He nodded. His expression was abstracted, somber.
“Congratulations, Countess,” he said quietly.
And in that moment, regardless of all that hadtranspired between them: she was moved, suffused with his awe and triumph as surely as if it was her own. This boy who had once emptied slops was now a peer of the realm, outranking her own father. It was tempting to call it miraculous, but Magnus had earned every single honor along the way with sweat and blood, and in so doing he had conferred this honor upon her, too, though she felt she patently didn’t deserve it. In that moment she fervently wished for him that he had never laid eyes on her, so that she would not have devastated him, so that nothing would taint the glory of this moment for him.
What’s done was done. She wondered if he currently entertained similar thoughts—wishing he’d never laid eyes on her—but then thought, perhaps not. He was the one who claimed life was too short to waste a moment on regrets. He wanted to move on with his life, and he’d decided to do it without her.
“Mr. Lawler will send by messenger documents for you to review regarding the New York property, so you should receive them this afternoon. I’ll have the carriage take you back to The Grand Palace on the Thames, and I’ll get a hack to White’s. I’ve a meeting with a number of gentlemen there. Earl or no, I’m a respecter of rules. So of course I’ll endeavor to return in time for dinner, as the rules, and my admiration for the food at The Grand Palace at the Thames, demand.”
“Very well. Thank you.”
Her answer was a bit delayed. She realizedher head had gone slowly, increasingly muzzy from the delicious feel of his big arm looped through hers.
The gold top of his walking stick winked in the sun as they strolled in silence for some time, just like this, the wind rushing through the trees like a crowd cheering the new Earl and Countess of Montcroix.
They were both wordless for a long stretch, as if strolling arm in arm was something illicit. Or perhaps because, oddly, strolling with him seemed as wholly satisfying as conversation. A complete activity. She found she did not want to forego this homely pleasure, regardless of its transience. Regardless of whether it had begun for the sake of appearances. It might never happen again.
Suddenly he gave a short laugh. “I was just nearly lashed by one of your bonnet ribbons. Such an unjust punishment for a national hero.”
She hadn’t realized they’d come entirely undone again. “My apologies. But I’m afraid I had no choice. My reputation for mercilessness precedes me.”
He laughed again. “Stop a moment,” he suggested amiably.
She obligingly came to a halt.
He pivoted to stand before her, snatching the ends of her fluttering ribbons from the air.
She stood patiently still.
He was leisurely about tying them. So oddly peaceful to be tended by such a large man.
He was doing it, she understood in a flash, because he wanted to render service. Specifically to her. He wanted to care. It was his nature.
She didn’t know why watching him, his face absorbed, somberly go about tying her ribbon should make her heart contract with a bittersweet sort of pain.
He ought to have had a family to care for.
“I don’t know how I manage to do it,” she faltered. “I’m forever turning my head to look at things, I suppose, and in all that vigorous motion they just gradually undo themselves.”
“There’s so much to see,” he commiserated absently as he pulled the satin into a bow. “Who could blame you?”
This was both true and a little silly, and suddenly they were smiling at each other.
There’s so much to see.
That was precisely it. Figuratively and literally.
Because a realization had been settling slowly into place. The faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the scars, the hard chiseled edges and the soft sensual ones, the thick, stern brows—none of his features were precisely traditionally beautiful, but everything was exactly right. And this, paradoxically, seemed like the very definition of beauty. She could not look away.
She didn’t know how this had come to pass, and it unnerved her utterly.
“There.” His fingertips lightly, momentarily rested on the bow he’d just tied.
“Thank you. Youarebetter at tying than untying.”
He gave a short laugh, then, as a seeming afterthought, he gently grasped either side of her bonnet and tugged it gently to adjust it.
And as he dropped his arms to his sides again, his fingertips slowly feathered over the downy hairs at her nape.
