It couldn’t be helped. His body obviously didn’t agree with his brain where she was concerned. And damn it all but there was a niggling feeling that he’d somehow misjudged her. Or maybe he was just trying to make excuses so he could engage in more than conversation with her. Would she even allow him to make an advance? They weren’t exactly on the best of terms, so there was a good chance she’d turn him away.
Considering the men who’d claimed to be her lovers and the lack of good looks they’d shared, he wasn’t sure he’d survive a rejection from her.
And why the hell was he even letting himself wonder about such things?
They were travel companions. That was all.
James dropped his washcloth into the basin, dried quickly, and found a clean shirt for himself in his bag. Once dressed, he went to knock on Mrs. Lawson’s door.
“One moment,” she called from within.
James waited. He crossed his arms, uncrossed them again, and studied each plank of wood in the hallway until his veins itched with impatience. He prepared to knock on her door yet again when it suddenly opened, bringing them face to face.
Gone was the bonnet she’d worn since he’d picked her up in the morning, allowing him an uninhibited view of her glorious hair. He’d seen it before of course, and yet he could not seem to stop staring. Her beauty was simply divine, made more so on account of the blush now flooding her cheeks.
“Mr. Dale?”
James quickly offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
So she was still irritated with him. James had to admit he would have been as well, had their roles been reversed. Perhaps it was time for an apology. “I’m sorry about earlier, Mrs. Lawson. I promised a truce and yet I still managed to be accusatory. It would mean a great deal if you could forgive me.”
She smiled and his heart sighed with relief. “Thank you, Mr. Dale. I actually enjoyed your company up until that point. It’s just difficult for me to pretend a friendship with someone who finds me as lacking as you clearly do.”
“You certainly know how to humble a man.” He offered his arm once more. “Again, my sincerest apologies. It isn’t my place to judge you.”
“That doesn’t mean you do not have an opinion.” She took his arm and allowed him to lead her toward the stairs. “I know it’s not a good one where I am concerned, but the nature of my marriage and the actions I chose to take within it don’t have to make me a terrible person. Could I not simply be a woman looking to find a bit of happiness for myself?”
James guided her down the stairs while puzzling through her question. Was it possible his opinion of her might be tainted by his own experience with Clara? The world did not approve of wives taking lovers yet barely spared one thought to a husband doing the same. Was that really just? And what business was it of his anyway if Mrs. Lawson had been unfaithful to Mr. Hewitt?
All he knew was the disappointment and disgust he’d felt as soon as he’d been made aware of her actions. But again, maybe that was Clara’s doing more than it was Mrs. Lawson’s. He honestly wasn’t sure anymore. What he did know was that Mrs. Lawson made him question the narrative he’d been fed about her. Which naturally increased his interest.
“Let’s order some food and talk about something else,” he suggested, not answering her question. “You can tell me about your hobbies.”
9
Seated at a table in the inn’s taproom, Wilhelmina sipped her beer and regarded the man opposite her. He wasn’t her friend, no matter how much they tried to pretend otherwise. And yet, here they were, ready to pretend exactly that.
“Are you sure getting to know me better is wise?”
The force of his gaze quickened her pulse. “If the alternative is to pass the remainder of our journey as we did today, mostly in silence, then it is a risk I’m prepared to take.”
“What if you start to like me?” The words were intended to tease in a self-deprecating way, to add some levity and ease the tension that always seemed to exist between them.
“Who’s to say I don’t already?”
Wilhelmina opened her mouth, ready to jump in with countless examples, until she saw he was smiling. She blew out a breath and allowed a smile of her own. Mr. Dale was trying. He’d handed her an olive branch for the second time that day, and it would be ungrateful of her to decline it.
So she took another quick sip of her beer and considered the topic he had suggested. Hobbies. Not just pastime activities she enjoyed, but actual interests she devoted time to on a regular basis.
“I used to weave a lot. Before we moved to London, that is. The activity always relaxed me.”
His eyes lit up. “What sort of things would you make?”
Just then a maid arrived with the food they’d ordered. She set their bowls filled with beef stew before them and went to take another order. Wilhelmina picked up her spoon and inhaled the fragrant smell of cooked meat, vegetables, and spiced broth.
“Any number of items.” She took a bite of her food and savored the warming effect it had on her tummy. “My favorite was a set of rainbow-colored cotton towels. They’re ridiculously bright, but I get so happy whenever I use them.” She chuckled and ate some more, a little embarrassed by the confession. Having Mr. Dale’s gaze fixed upon her didn’t help. Her cheeks burned with the awareness and prompted her to hastily add, “I also made a couple of woolen blankets, some dish cloths, and even a shawl. The shawl was the hardest. I’m not sure I’ll ever attempt one again unless it’s plain and simple. But there was this intricate pattern I wanted to try. Took me forever and…”
