“Quite right.” Mr. Dale tilted his head in contemplation. “I suppose you studied a globe when you weren’t otherwise occupied with the workings of your parents’ longcase clock?”
“The vastness of the world, the difference in climate, geography, and people found throughout, has always intrigued me.”
He studied her. “Sounds like you might want to travel one day. As your father did?”
“As much as I missed him while he was away, I cannot deny that his stories instilled in me a thirst to know more. Not that I’m likely to go anywhere.” The expense alone was enough to put an end to any such notion.
“Why not?”
Since Wilhelmina had no desire to bring up her financial straits, she said, “Adventures are meant to be shared, Mr. Dale. My father had his best friend for company whereas I have no one.”
“What about Cynthia?”
“I don’t believe she has any interest in learning what’s outside of England,” Wilhelmina said with a wistful chuckle. “Besides, her life is here. With her husband gone and no children to speak of, she ought to set her mind to starting a family while she’s still young.”
“It looks like she shares your belief,” Mr. Dale said. He frowned but didn’t apologize for reminding her that Cynthia was in fact trying to get herself married. Instead he fell into silence, allowing Wilhelmina to continue wracking her brain.
“I give up,” she told him after a good fifteen minutes. “I’ve gone over all the countries again and I just can’t think of any others.”
“You’re certain?”
“Quite.”
A sly smile slid into place, softening the hard edge of his jaw. With two and a half days’ worth of stubble affording him with a rough appearance and the cravat he’d hastily tied in place that morning when they’d fled the inn, he looked devilishly handsome. A funny sort of liquid heat swirled in her stomach.
“I see,” he said, dragging her attention away from the strange desire she suddenly had to run her fingertips over his cheek. “Perhaps that’s because there aren’t any more.”
“What?”
“We covered all the countries beginning with S.”
“But you told me—”
“I lied.” Mischief played in his eyes, bringing out their warmer tones.
“How awful of you,” she chided with sporting levity in her voice. Reaching out, she gave him a playful swat, in response to which he chuckled.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Lawson, but I could not ignore the chance to tease you.” A thoughtful expression brought his features back under control. He gazed at her as if in wonder and Wilhelmina’s pulse leapt in response. “I’ll never regret making you smile.”
Unsure of what to say in response, Wilhelmina could only sit there. She was trapped by his gaze and acutely reminded of what his lips felt like against her own. When she’d kissed him last, it had been impulsive – the means by which to win an argument. Now, it was something else entirely, perhaps a need to be close to someone she felt a genuine connection with, a desire to blot out all lingering remnants of her encounter with Cloverfield, or simply the deep attraction she’d harbored for Mr. Dale since the moment they’d met now reaching its zenith.
“Mrs. Lawson.” Her name suggested a shared awareness on his part. He leaned toward her.
She sucked in a breath, and was suddenly in his arms. Not because she’d moved or because he had, but because the entire conveyance jolted and tossed her straight off the bench.
Strong hands held her steady while concerned eyes searched her face. The moment they’d just enjoyed was not only lost but pulled further out of reach when the carriage jerked to a jarring halt and the coachman could be heard cursing.
“Are you all right?” Mr. Dale asked Wilhelmina. When she answered in the affirmative, he eased her back onto the bench. “You’re certain?”
“Yes. You should probably go and see what has happened.”
With a nod he left, only to return moments later. “One of the horses has sprung a shoe, which leaves us in a bit of a bind, seeing as it will start getting dark in another hour or so.”
“Can we not walk to the nearest inn?”
“My coachman reckons that’s at least ten miles away, which is much too far.”
“What do we do then?”
