“I’m not sure the weather is the best for this sort of thing,” she hedged when they stepped down onto the grass.
It was spring so all the colors were crisp and vibrant. A bright blue, cloudless sky stretched overhead, and the sound of chicks calling from nearby nests in the trees created a natural symphony.
“I actually know of the perfect spot down by the lake. It’s nice and moist. If we’re lucky we’ll catch some frogs too.”
“Oh God,” she murmured.
“What was that?”
She gave him a bright and sunny smile. “Nothing, Mr. Townsbridge. By all means, lead the way.”
A chuckle rippled through his chest. The lady’s tenacity was exceptional. He could not deny his admiration any less than the pang of attraction he’d felt the moment he’d seen her alight from her carriage. A good head shorter than he, she was slim of build with alabaster skin. Her face held a pair of deep blue eyes fringed by thick black lashes. A wide mouth with a full bottom lip made for kissing had filled his head with all manner of improper thoughts. Her high cheekbones accentuated her delicate appearance. But it was her hair - chestnut-colored with hints of red – that completely undid him. He wanted to know what it felt like between his fingers and how it would look falling over her shoulders. Even now as they walked, his fingers itched to reach up and touch it.
He let out a slow breath to calm the urge and dropped a glance in her direction. It would be a shame if she married Shrewsberry. The man might be a skilled charmer and perfect gentleman whenever he stepped out into society, but George knew that behind closed doors, he was a womanizing drunkard. Ironically, this was most likely the exact sort of person Miss Hollyoak took George to be. But she was wrong. Not about his various escapades. He’d had plenty of those. But what he’d not wished to confess before they became better acquainted was that he yearned for a marriage based on honesty and trust. He wanted friendship and love - a life partner whose company he enjoyed.
In other words, the exact opposite of what his parents had. They were a happily married couple in public, but in private they lived separate lives and neither had ever seemed especially happy. Growing up, George had seen them as a perfect example of what to avoid in a marriage.
Which prompted him to ask Miss Hollyoak, “Is happiness important to you?”
“Of course.” She spoke without hesitation. “I would imagine it would be to most people.”
“One does wonder.” He met her gaze. “I believe few matches are made with happiness in mind.”
“Ours certainly wouldn’t be,” she muttered as they passed through an opening between a copse of trees and made their way toward the lake.
“Surely it’s too soon to tell.”
“As I’ve already mentioned, your reputation has allowed me to form an opinion.”
“Clearly.” He gave her a dry look and watched in quiet amusement while her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. Clearing his throat, he drew her to a halt at the edge of the lake and said, “Let’s suppose you fell madly in love with me.”
She snorted. “Highly unlikely.”
“Just pretend for a moment, Miss Hollyoak.” He turned her toward him. When she sighed and gave a nod of agreement he asked, “Would it then matter to you if there were no title or fortune for me to inherit, or would you marry me anyway?”
She knit her brow. “I’m not sure my parents would allow me to marry you if there weren’t. After all, something terrible would have had to occur in order for you to lose your right to the Roxley title, so I suppose it would depend on whether or not it was tied to something you’d done. For instance, if I were to learn you were a traitor or a murderer, my feelings for you would most likely change.”
“Right. Of course. As well they should, I suppose.”
“But if we were to pretend that we lived in a world where I loved you to distraction and where titles and fortunes could be denied on a whim, and where I was free to do as I please without my parents’ interference, then it shouldn’t matter if you lost your title and fortune since neither can possibly be a reflection of who you are as a person. As such, I would like to think I would marry you anyway. Although to be fair, this is so hypothetical it is beginning to stretch the limits of my imagination.”
George smiled. “Your answer still gives me hope.”
“Of what, exactly?”
“That you care more for what is behind the facade than for how things appear at first glance.” When she frowned he grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let’s find those grubs you’re so excited about.”
She squeaked and he grinned as he pulled her along, circling the lake until they reached a shady spot where moss, fallen tree-bark, and branches littered the ground. Drawing her into a crouched position, he let go her hand and lifted one of the larger branches so he could move it aside.
“Dear me,” Miss Hollyoak said with a whisper of breath.
George’s grin widened. The branch had settled in the moist soil, creating an indentation in which there appeared to be an abundance of life. He reached out and snatched up the fattest grub he could find. Turning slightly, he held it up for Miss Hollyoak’s inspection. “Magnificent, wouldn’t you say?”
Her expression was tight, her lips pressed into a firm line that seemed to convey a struggle for resolve. She stared at the grub as it moved about in the palm of his hand. “An excellent specimen, Mr. Townsbridge. Congratulations.”
“Why thank you, Miss Hollyoak. Would you not like to hold it?”
“Oh no. That one is yours. I couldn’t possibly—”
