‘A string quartet would be simpler and would not require a tuner to ready the instrument once it was installed,’ he said, so seriously that for a moment she stared at him until she saw the faint creases at the corners of his eyes, the slight lift of his lips.
Goodness, there is that sense of humour again, ready to ambush me when I most dislike him.
At least he appeared to have accepted the change of subject, which was a relief, because if he apologised for kissing her one more time she was going to push him into the lake.
‘Shall we sit and review our options?’ He gestured to a smooth rock and Verity perched on the end. Will sat beside her, a good two feet away. ‘There are no sheets, no tablecloth, the mattress tick is grey and the blankets are brown—none of them will make a visible signal. I suggest that you stay in the hut where at least you are sheltered and there is food and I will build a fire here on the headland. If I keep it burning, someone will see the smoke eventually. When we are returned to land we can at least assure everyone that we were not together.’
‘Except up to this point, that is. Oh, and the slight matter of the fact that we kissed,’ Verity pointed out. ‘But if you can ignore that, I most certainly can.’ Liar.
‘I am concerned for your reputation,’ Will pointed out in tones that suggested a strong desire to snap.
‘Or yours?’ Verity enquired sweetly. ‘They used to call you Lord Appropriate, did they not? The pedestal on which you perch must be so lofty that there are probably small clouds around it. My reputation is merely a matter of the opinion of local society, where everyone knows me well. If I take a tumble off my own plinth it is a matter of hopping back on again once another local scandal distracts everyone—the quarrel between the Rector’s wife and Lady Foskett over the breeding of pugs, or Miss Hutchinson cheating at the Horticultural Society’s annual show, for example. Not that anyone need find out about this.
‘You, however, have the aura of your title to keep untarnished. Even if no one but your staff, your family and Papa and Mr Hoskins know, your self-esteem must be severely bruised.’
Silence. Verity hummed nonchalantly under her breath and waited for the explosion.
‘Earlier I was repressing an entirely improper desire to shake you until your teeth rattled,’ Will said. He sounded as though his teeth were clamped together. ‘For some demented reason I kissed you instead. At the moment I have no trouble at all deciding which impulse I wish to follow.’
‘Excellent.’ Verity turned her most charming smile on him.
‘You are doing it on purpose, aren’t you? Trying to anger me.’
‘That seems to puzzle you.’ Verity made herself more comfortable on the rock and tried not to worry that Papa was becoming agitated as the shadows lengthened. ‘I do not care if I am compromised and I do not want to marry you.’
‘In the absence of an available Prince of the Blood, single ladies appear to find the thought of marrying a duke irresistible.’
‘You flatter yourself.’
‘No, not at all,’ Will said, quite calmly. ‘I have no illusions that I am considered highly eligible for anything except my title. It would make no difference if I was one hundred years old, wildly eccentric, had two dozen irregular offspring and assorted unpleasant diseases. You saw them at church on Sunday. London would be a thousand times worse.’
‘I doubt we would be in this position if you were a centenarian, let alone one weakened by unspecified diseases and a career of debauchery,’ Verity pointed out. ‘The rowing would have defeated you.’
There was silence from beside her.
I have pushed him too far, she thought.
Chapter Nine
Then Will laughed. He doubled up on the rock and laughed while tears streamed down his face. When he finally straightened up he swiped one hand across his eyes and demanded, ‘Does nothing shock you, Verity?’
‘Of course. Cruelty and ignorance and bigotry. Oh, and the current fashion for mustard yellow. And the inability of men to grasp that females have brains of equal capacity to their own.’
He gave a final gasp of amusement, produced a large handkerchief and mopped his face. ‘I cannot recall when I last laughed like that.’
‘I am sorry.’ Verity moved a little closer, wanting to touch him and sensing he might find that an unfamiliar gesture. ‘Of course you have not wanted to laugh. You lost your father and your grandfather not long ago and you have all this dreadful responsibility and the children to bring up.’
‘No, I mean I cannot recall when it last seemed fitting to laugh.’ The amusement had gone and his profile seemed suddenly harsh. ‘Did they really call me Lord Appropriate?’
‘You never heard it said? No, I suppose you would not. Who would dare risk insulting you? My cousin told me some time ago. He described you in a letter and that was why I guessed who you were so quickly when you fell into my excavation.’
‘You think that a desire to be appropriate is something that is to be ashamed of? I have been the heir to the dukedom my entire life. I have been raised to fill that position since my grandfather removed me from my father.’ There was pride in Will’s voice and a complete absence of understanding of the point she had intended to make.
His title is not a burden to him, she realised. It is what he is. Has anyone ever valued him for the human being inside or only because he was the heir to a great title? How...sad.
‘Are you cold? You shivered.’ Beside her Will moved as though to take off his coat. ‘Confound it. My coat is in the rowing boat.’
‘No, I am not cold, thank you. It was just a goose walking over my grave.’ Or the realisation that he was as trapped by being a duke as she was by being female. If Will wanted to be an artist or an explorer, if he desired nothing more than to shut himself away in a library and live the life of a scholar or to join the literary salons of London as a poet, he could not. Not without neglecting the duties he had been raised to take on.