“‘The mood’?” Jackson glanced around at the picturesque landscape. “Even while seated in an open-air vehicle?”
“There is a kind of solitary acknowledgment that goes hand in hand with the constant feeling of movement. The juxtaposition is for those of deep and intellectual minds.”
“I see.” And he did. “So, the only one allowed to be morose and thoughtful isyou?”
“I am glad you understand.”
He smirked, sure she was badgering him for such a purpose. “I thought you would enjoy lecturing me on my skewed rarity and density or whatever insulting idiom strikes your fancy.”
“Perhaps you should leave the idioms to Kenelm Digby and save yourself further humiliation.”
Jackson frowned.Digby. “The man who invented the shower bath?”
“That would be William Feetham.”
“Scotsman?”
“English.”
Jackson blew out his breath. “Your reading extends beyond Greek mythology and Shakespeare?” He’d never be able to win an argument in mythology, philosophy, or ancestry.
And his temperament was improving despite the scales tipped in her favor. Perhaps, because of her favor.
Start over.
Hope filtered through the guilt straining his chest. If Anna could forgive him after all this time, then there should be time for him to patch things up with Figaro.
He’d make the time.
Anna sniffed and tugged her wrist-length gloves tight, as if she hadn’t been carefully watching his expression. “You are improved, then?”
“Thanks to you.”
“Naturally.”
Jackson chuckled. “My mother would say that pride is akin to vulgarity.”
She cocked a challenging brow. “And?”
“You wear it well.”
She sniffed again, clearly pleased and far too stubborn to say so. Less distant but still holding back.
He’d fix that too.
A flick of his wrist and the horses sped up into a fast canter.
Anna glanced his way but said nothing.
When she faced forward, he flicked the reins again.
The buggy jolted forward.
Anna’s scrutiny didn’t fade this time. “Do you know what you are about, Duke?”
“I’m sure I don’t know to what you refer?” He flicked the reins a third time, and the horses took off into a soft gallop.
Anna laughed as she clutched her bonnet to her head. “You’re going too fast,” she scolded without heat.
