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Because Miles and Grace weren’t an option.

He was stuck with them.

They both looked at him intently.

Freddie pushed out a breath while simultaneously running his hands down his thighs. “I can’t seem to stop thinking about kissing her,” he said quietly.

Both men leaned forward.

“At first it was just wondering what it would be like. But since kissing her at the fete? It’s all I want to do.” He sagged down into the chair. “What does that mean?”

Stan sat back and shrugged. “I’d not concern yourself. I don’t think it’s uncommon for a man to think about kissing women. We’ve all done it before. It’s a deuced fine way to spend an evening.”

Freddie understood what Stan meant, although it felt rather rakish when he said it like that.

It was true. Freddie had kissed several ladies before. But he’d never spent hours—yes, hours—thinking about those kisses afterward. And he’d never wanted to seek those ladies out just so he might kiss them again. Indeed, Freddie could not even fathom kissing anyone but Pippy. Surely that had to mean something.

Fin stared at him, as if he could see the turmoil going on inside Freddie’s brain…and chest…and stomach…and legs.

Lud.

“Perhaps you are in love with her,” Fin said matter-of-factly, or perhaps he was annoyed. “And maybe you’re not. But it really doesn’t matter.”

Freddie sat back. What nonsense was that?

“The point being…you’re already married to her. You don’t have to worry about another man swooping in to declare himself and stealing her away.” He shrugged. “You have your whole life to figure it out. So why worry about it now?”

Freddie stared down at his hands, clutched together and hanging between his knees. Did he have to worry about it now?

“I just mean, give yourself time to figure it out—instead of being sullen and pacing a hole in the carpets.”

Stan nodded. “I suppose he’s not wrong.”

“Thank you, Stan,” Fin said. His lips pressed thin, and he wore a look of barely contained annoyance. “Your confidence is endearing.”

“Freddie?” Pippy’s voice sounded from the doorway, and all three of them jumped to their feet. How much had she heard?

He grinned nervously. “Are you finished eating, Lady Pip?”

“Why do you call her that?” Stan whispered low next to him.

Freddie swept out his hand, smacking his friend on the shoulder.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked.

“No, not at all. We were just speaking about—” Freddie paused, his mind blank. “Stan was telling us how much he enjoyed kissing ladies,” Freddie said, then he winced.

Pippy’s brows shot up. “Oh? Pray tell? Which ladies?”

“I should call you out,” Stan muttered. He cleared his throat. “No one in particular, my lady. You need not concern yourself. She was no one of consequence.” He smiled tightly.

Freddie almost put his hand to his brow. Stan obviously didn’t hear himself, else he’d apologize for sounding like a complete rake.

“I see,” she said as she flicked her gaze from Freddie to Stan and then back. “Do you wish to go skating? Or are you staying inside?”

Freddie jumped on the change of topic. “Ah, yes. I was planning on it,” he stammered. “Unless, of course, you do not wish to participate.”

She smiled. “I should like to, if you don’t mind. I’ll be dreadful at it, I’m certain. It’s been years since I last did it.”