“My heart?” He refocused on her eyes, held her gaze steadily. “My heart only ever had one thought, one want. One need. Despite all, in spite of all.” He felt as if he were sinking into the golden depths of her eyes. Let go. “All my heart has ever wanted is you.”
The moment stretched, then he asked, “What of yours?”
“Mine?” Her gaze remained unwavering while she debated whether to answer. Eventually she said, “I put my heart aside a long time ago. I locked it in a casket and buried the key.”
Her meaning was clear. She’d protected her heart in the only way she could.
And she wasn’t yet ready to trust him with it again.
He didn’t try to argue. Instead he merely nodded and settled his head once more on her breast. Waited until her fingers returned to stroke his hair before murmuring, “Then I’ll have to find the key.”
Tie her up fast.
Fast as in quickly, fast as in tightly. Both applied.
She might be stubborn, but he was stubborner. He was in her bed, in her arms. He had her with him again, and he wasn’t going to let her go.
Chapter 15
The next day, Sunday, Christian escorted Letitia, Agnes, and Hermione to church—raising untold eyebrows and causing Letitia to send him increasingly narrow-eyed looks.
But as they walked the short distance back along South Audley Street, she saw his curricle waiting, with his chestnuts between the shafts.
Strolling beside her, he leaned nearer and murmured, “I thought you might enjoy a drive to Richmond.”
She glanced at him, met his eyes, then looked ahead. “I suppose that will keep me from wearing a track in the carpet.”
So they parted from Agnes and Hermione, and he handed her up.
The drive to Richmond was refreshing, oddly peaceful. The day was fine, but a brisk breeze blew beneath the trees, enough of a deterrent to keep many away; the broad swaths of lawn were, if not deserted, then at least not crowded.
Her hand tucked in the crook of his arm, they walked, and talked of events long past. By unspoken agreement they avoided the subject highest in her mind—their plans for tomorrow, and what they might find.
The wind whipped the ribbons of her black bonnet across his chest. In her black gown, with her alabaster skin so pale against the contrast of her dark red hair, she looked even more slender, even more femininely fragile than usual.
She wasn’t fragile, at least not physically, yet the hint of vulnerability the black emphasized—that he saw when, while thinking of him she glanced at him—wasn’t something she’d possessed long ago.
Now that he recognized it for what it was, his heart constricted and his chest felt tight every time he glimpsed it.
Time, he hoped, would help him eradicate it.
After a brisk ramble under the trees, they repaired to the nearby Star and Garter for lunch. He encouraged her to tell him all she knew of recent ton scandals; the time passed swiftly and easily.
Leaving the hotel, they took one look at the deepening gray of the sky and headed for the curricle. The drive back was uneventful, but instead of taking her to South Audley Street, he drove to Grosvenor Square instead.
Pulling up outside Allardyce House, he tossed the reins to his groom, who came running to the horses’ heads, then he stepped down to the pavement, turned and helped Letitia alight.
In response to her questioning look, he waved to the house. “We can have afternoon tea here. I’ve a pile of correspondence I need to look through.”
Because he’d been spending all his time with her. Letitia inclined her head and consented to be led inside.
Christian’s butler, Percival, recognized her. His face lit in a most unbutlerish way. He recovered and bowed low. “My lady. Welcome to Allardyce House.” He straightened. “If I may take your bonnet…”
“Yes, of course.” Letitia undid the ribbons, lifted the poke bonnet with its demiveil free of her hair, and laid it in Percival’s waiting hands.
“We’ll have tea in my study, Percival.” Christian took her arm and steered her down a corridor leading from the front hall.
“Indeed, my lord. At once.”