He didn’t intend… He couldn’t…
But if he did…
She ran after him, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years.
Chapter Thirteen
Courtship was nothing more than a slow seduction, and Remmy was expert at that. So he stuffed a few drawings into the letter he was sending to his secretary at the Folly and set off to find Tessa.
He’d spent his morning and early afternoon answering correspondence, and Hardwright’s letter had been promising. His secretary wrote that business had indeed picked up since the publication of the Belle’s column, though the patrons seemed to be spraining their necks more looking for him than attending to the performance on the stage. All as he’d expected. Once they saw how luxurious the theatre was, how talented its actors, that would change. They came for him but would return for the Folly itself.
And the drawings of Remmy naked on horseback would soon be circulating throughout London to keep curiosity as high as ticket sales.
He found Lady Chattaway in the parlor, but Tessa was not with her.
“She wandered out toward the woods,” Lady Chattaway said, “after our walk.”
“Thank you.”
She eyed him from boot to hair. “She’s a good girl.”
“I’m aware.”
“Too good. You might ruin her up a bit. Especially since Brawley’s nephew doesn’t seem inclined to do so.”
He choked on a breath.
She smacked him on the back. “Go get some fresh air, boy.”
“Right.” With watering eyes and a cravat too tight, he made his way outside then took the path toward the woods and the lake. He saw her hair first, blazing bright in the afternoon sun, and slowed his approach so he could watch her.
Slim, straight back, graceful column of a neck beneath that blazing abundance crowning her head. He wanted to wake every morning with it wrapped around him, with his face buried in it. He wanted to kiss his way down her neck until he came to the tapes of her gown, then undo those all in a rush to have her naked beneath his hands.
She must have heard him because she twisted and smiled when she spotted him. She sat on top of their rock, in the very center, and she scooted to one side as he stepped up onto it.
“Good afternoon,” he said, unable to keep the bedchamber from his voice even though he would definitely keep them out of the bedchamber. For now. Until he was sure of her feelings.
“How was work? Is the Folly still standing without your presence?”
“Barely. But I put them right.” A few detailed drawings provided by Horace, who wasn’t an artist like Tessa but could make more sense of shapes than Remmy could. “What are you doing out here?”
“Thinking.” She drew her legs up beneath her skirts and hugged them. “I truly enjoyed spending the day with you yesterday.”
A bird burst into song on some unseen branch high above, and his insides turned to honey. “I’m glad. We’ll do it againtoday.”
“Mmm.” She set her chin on her knees. She seemed… dimmer.
“What’s happened? Where have you been?” What had made her so silent and still?
“Visiting with my parents. They are not pleased to hear I’m not taking Mr. Tilbury’s offer seriously. They are coming to Crossvale for dinner, no doubt to encourage Mr. Tilbury’s suit.”
“How unfortunate for them, then, that you are so ill.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Am I?”
“Oh yes. You certainly cannot attend dinner.”
“And what is to keep me in my bed?”
