daughter. She was unlikely to catch the eye of another duke. Even title-less men like Fairfax and Whitfield were more plentiful in London than Maidstone.
Not only that, these easygoing gentlemen were apt to appreciate and encourage activities like hell-for-leather racing and all night waltzing than the humdrum suitors she was more likely to attract in the countryside. He let out a deep breath. Daphne needed someone to share her interests, not stifle them. What if his intervention spoiled her best chance to make that happen?
Just as he turned to go back inside, horse hooves sounded from the opposite side of the cottage.
Bartholomew frowned. He didn’t expect the others back for at least a couple of hours, and yet the incoming rider wasn’t coming from the direction of the public road. He paused on the threshold to see who it might be.
Daphne . Cheeks pink, lips rosy, her hair a golden cloud of windblown curls beneath a cockeyed bonnet.
She’d never looked more beautiful.
“Why did you come back?” he demanded. The answer couldn’t be more obvious. His neck heated in embarrassment. She hadn’t wanted to abandon the poor, crippled soldier, so she’d raced down an alternate path in order to double back and make sure he was still well. “I don’t need your pity.”
“That’s fortunate.” She arched her brows. “You don’t have my pity.”
Clearly. He lifted his chin toward the trail. “You wanted to ride a horse. Go ride. You may not get another opportunity for some time.”
“So be it.” She dropped her reins, then hesitated. “You’re right. I did feel awful, leaving you standing in our dust. Quite literally. It wasn’t well done of me. I shouldn’t have gone.”
See? Pity. He lifted his hands to her hips. “Don’t do me any special favors. I’m not your real fiancé. I’m not even your fake fiancé.”
“Not yet.” She slid into his arms. “Am I allowed to do favors when I’m your faux fiancée?”
“No.” He set her down. Slowly. Letting her body slide against his.
She didn’t back away. “Why not? You’re doing quite a large one for me.”
“Am I? I’m not sacrificing more than a few days.” And his pride. “This is the first time I have been out since I returned from war. Perhaps you’re the one doing me a favor. In which case, we’re even.”
She reached behind him and handed him the reins. “If that’s all the bonding we’re to do, mind this horse while I slip off to attend to some correspondence.”
He gave her a grudging smile. Cheeky chit. And one of the most selfless, focused people he’d ever met. “Which nonexistent gentleman are you going to impersonate today?”
The corners of her lips quirked. “Perhaps I’ll pretend to be you.”
“Don’t spite yourself just to spite me.” He tied the horse and leaned against the post. “My opinions carry little weight.”
She tilted her head. “What are your opinions?”
He straightened. Did he even have any? Who would care? No one had ever asked him before. Perhaps because they thought he wouldn’t have any. Or perhaps because he had surrounded himself with the wrong kind of people. “My opinions on matters such as…?”
She bit her lip. “Do you remember what I showed you in my chambers?”
How could he not? A mere year ago, an invitation into a lady’s chambers would have ended quite differently. Perhaps even an invitation into Daphne’s arms. A woman who didn’t want a husband might still want a man. Her room had been more than adequate for a rendezvous. “One four-poster bed, sturdy, three pillows. An open wardrobe containing—”
“Not that .” She gave his shoulder a teasing push.
He caught her hand. His heart was beating far too fiercely. She must feel its pulse beneath her palm, racing faster than any stallion.
He hadn’t spoken to any young ladies since returning from war. Hadn’t teased or been teased. Hadn’t been shoved playfully without a thought to whether his
Not only that, these easygoing gentlemen were apt to appreciate and encourage activities like hell-for-leather racing and all night waltzing than the humdrum suitors she was more likely to attract in the countryside. He let out a deep breath. Daphne needed someone to share her interests, not stifle them. What if his intervention spoiled her best chance to make that happen?
Just as he turned to go back inside, horse hooves sounded from the opposite side of the cottage.
Bartholomew frowned. He didn’t expect the others back for at least a couple of hours, and yet the incoming rider wasn’t coming from the direction of the public road. He paused on the threshold to see who it might be.
Daphne . Cheeks pink, lips rosy, her hair a golden cloud of windblown curls beneath a cockeyed bonnet.
She’d never looked more beautiful.
“Why did you come back?” he demanded. The answer couldn’t be more obvious. His neck heated in embarrassment. She hadn’t wanted to abandon the poor, crippled soldier, so she’d raced down an alternate path in order to double back and make sure he was still well. “I don’t need your pity.”
“That’s fortunate.” She arched her brows. “You don’t have my pity.”
Clearly. He lifted his chin toward the trail. “You wanted to ride a horse. Go ride. You may not get another opportunity for some time.”
“So be it.” She dropped her reins, then hesitated. “You’re right. I did feel awful, leaving you standing in our dust. Quite literally. It wasn’t well done of me. I shouldn’t have gone.”
See? Pity. He lifted his hands to her hips. “Don’t do me any special favors. I’m not your real fiancé. I’m not even your fake fiancé.”
“Not yet.” She slid into his arms. “Am I allowed to do favors when I’m your faux fiancée?”
“No.” He set her down. Slowly. Letting her body slide against his.
She didn’t back away. “Why not? You’re doing quite a large one for me.”
“Am I? I’m not sacrificing more than a few days.” And his pride. “This is the first time I have been out since I returned from war. Perhaps you’re the one doing me a favor. In which case, we’re even.”
She reached behind him and handed him the reins. “If that’s all the bonding we’re to do, mind this horse while I slip off to attend to some correspondence.”
He gave her a grudging smile. Cheeky chit. And one of the most selfless, focused people he’d ever met. “Which nonexistent gentleman are you going to impersonate today?”
The corners of her lips quirked. “Perhaps I’ll pretend to be you.”
“Don’t spite yourself just to spite me.” He tied the horse and leaned against the post. “My opinions carry little weight.”
She tilted her head. “What are your opinions?”
He straightened. Did he even have any? Who would care? No one had ever asked him before. Perhaps because they thought he wouldn’t have any. Or perhaps because he had surrounded himself with the wrong kind of people. “My opinions on matters such as…?”
She bit her lip. “Do you remember what I showed you in my chambers?”
How could he not? A mere year ago, an invitation into a lady’s chambers would have ended quite differently. Perhaps even an invitation into Daphne’s arms. A woman who didn’t want a husband might still want a man. Her room had been more than adequate for a rendezvous. “One four-poster bed, sturdy, three pillows. An open wardrobe containing—”
“Not that .” She gave his shoulder a teasing push.
He caught her hand. His heart was beating far too fiercely. She must feel its pulse beneath her palm, racing faster than any stallion.
He hadn’t spoken to any young ladies since returning from war. Hadn’t teased or been teased. Hadn’t been shoved playfully without a thought to whether his
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