He was a troublemaker, completely improper, and the sort of man who used charm and dashing good looks to his advantage. So she tamped down her momentary amusement and added, “The wedding was the same. I don’t even recall speaking my vows.”
The old woman grinned. “I can understand why. You husband is very fine indeed, and considering how pretty you are, I’m sure your children will be something to behold.”
Leonora gulped. “Children?”
“We hope to have many,” Mr. Dalton said. His free hand reached for hers, and before Leonora could protest, he’d woven their fingers together, and as if that wasn’t enough, he leaned in close to her cheek, brushing her skin with his lips. “Isn’t that right, my darling?”
Indignation lit up inside her, extinguished seconds later by the pleasure of his thumb stroking over her wrist. Logic called for her to revolt, to name him a liar and a scoundrel, no different and possibly worse than Mr. Smith. After all,he’dmerely offered her a meal, although to be fair, he had touched her leg as well, but that was different, that was...uncomfortable and awkward and utterly disagreeable while Mr. Dalton’s touch...
If she were honest, she rather liked the way he made her feel.
Even though it’s wrong?
It really was, in more ways than one, for it wasn’t just the lie that should give her pause but the liberties he’d taken since. She was, after all, a young woman travelling alone, and some would argue that he’d taken advantage. She should think he’d done so considering what she already knew about him. And yet, she sensed that he would have let her be if she’d been adamant about it – that the only reason he was holding her now was because she’d allowed it, because she’d somehow granted him permission when she’d remained silent.
Why did you do that?
Because she’d secretly liked the idea of being the center of a his attention, because she was going away from London, from all that she knew and because she had a brief chance right now to be whatever she chose, including his wife. It was also because she’d spent years devoted to plants rather than people. Her debut had been a fantastic failure for that very reason – because none of the gentleman she’d had a chance with, like the Earl of Radcliff’s nephew, Mr. Young, had shared one ounce of her passion. As soon as she mentioned fruits and flowers, their eyes glazed over, and she’d eventually stopped trying.
Still...she’d seen Mr. Dalton in animated conversation with Mr. Becker. There was a good chance he knew of Mr. Becker’s recent property acquisition and his intention to profit from it, and if that were the case, could she really continue this farce? She shifted again, pulling away with enough force to tell him she wanted some space between them. He removed his arm from behind her and let her hand go. She masked the gesture by rummaging through her reticule.
“Absolutely,” she murmured, answering Dalton’s question about children while searching for nothing in particular. There was a handkerchief, a small box of homemade mints, her ticket to Sheffield, and some money. Not one useful thing to keep herself busy with or to distract her from Mr. Dalton’s presence.
He smelled good too, of leather and sandalwood and a hint of coffee.
Not that it mattered.
She rummaged some more.
“What are you looking for?” His voice tickled the nape of her neck, sending warm little shivers straight down her spine.
“I wish I’d brought a book,” she told him before closing her reticule again. Mr. Smith stirred beside her, and the girl diagonally opposite dropped her book. It slipped from her fingers as she fell asleep.
Mr. Dalton caught it. “Here. Read this if you like.”
She stared at him. “I couldn’t possibly.”
“I doubt she’d mind,” the old woman said. “I wouldn’t.”
“Even so, it’s not my book. It belongs to her,” Leonora said. “You ought to put it back.”
“So it can fall to the floor the next time the carriage jolts?”
“No, but—”
“I’ll read it then,” he said. And so he did, starting with page one. “‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.’”
