Reese felt grass sticking to one side of his face, the morning sun warming the other. His heart kicked into a gallop out of sheer habit, but then he recalled where he was. Lying on the lawn at Warshire Manor, with Sophie by his side.
He peeked at her through sleep-swollen lids, relieved to find her still resting next to him, covered with the quilt he’d placed over her last night. A few golden strands of her hair had slipped free from their pins, covering her eyes like a shimmering silk veil.
As though she’d sensed that he’d awoken, she brushed the hair off her face, stretched, and opened her eyes. “Did you sleep?” she asked.
“Aye.” The last time he’d slept so soundly might have been when he and Edmund had gone swimming in the lake as boys. They’d jumped and splashed in the water till their fingers and toes shriveled and their lips turned blue. When they were finally too exhausted to float, much less swim, they dragged themselves out of the water, collapsed on the sandy ground, and napped for hours. “We should go swimming next week,” he said.
Sophie shot him a curious look and rubbed her eyelids. “I wonder what time it is,” she said worriedly. “I need to be at the house when the hackney cab arrives.”
Reese reluctantly pushed himself to sitting. “I don’t think it’s very late yet, but we can make our way back and check the time. I’ll round up something for us to eat, too.”
She sat up, spied the quilt covering her legs, and frowned. “You gave me your blanket?”
He shrugged and scrubbed a few blades of grass from one cheek. “I’m used to sleeping on the ground. I didn’t want you to be cold.” He stood, and though he longed to help her to her feet, he settled for taking the quilts and shoving them under an arm.
“That was very thoughtful.” She shot him a grateful smile as she slipped on her shoes and tucked a blond curl behind one ear. “But the whole point of my being here is to help you sleep.”
“Right,” he agreed, even if the reminder robbed a little of the glow from the morning. She was only there because they’d made a deal. She’d wanted the use of his building one night a week, and he required her help to fall asleep. She was the sort of soft-hearted person who probably routinely rescued stray mongrels and broken-winged birds. He’d essentially taken advantage of her good nature and begged for her help, knowing it would be nigh impossible for her to refuse.
That was the reason she was there, the reason she tolerated his company—for now. He couldn’t let himself forget that.
She scooped her wilted flower crown off the ground, letting it dangle from her fingertips as they strolled back to the house in comfortable silence.
He took her through a back entrance and led her to the main corridor, where the grandfather clock confirmed they had half an hour before the hackney cab was scheduled to return.
“Why don’t you take a few minutes to return to your room and freshen up?” he suggested. “I’ll see what I can find for us to eat and meet you in the dining room.”
“Perfect,” she said, placing a hand over her belly. “I’ll return shortly.”
He raided the larder and found a couple of hard-boiled eggs, a basket of pastries, and a variety of fruit that his cook had thoughtfully prepared before leaving for the weekend. Reese set everything on the dining-room table and grabbed plates and silverware from the sideboard while he waited for Sophie.
When she breezed into the dining room a few minutes later, she wore a pale pink gown embroidered with dark pink flowers that made the formerly dreary room feel like a garden party. She set her portmanteau by the door and allowed him to pull out her chair for her. “This looks delicious,” she exclaimed, helping herself to a sweet roll. “I confess I’m famished.”
While they ate, she asked a few questions about the house and the garden.
He asked her about her childhood and her favorite school subjects.
Neither of them dared tread too close to sensitive or revealing topics. With the end of their time together looming, Reese felt as though they’d already begun to say goodbye—at least till next Friday.
But then, shortly before it was time for her to leave, Sophie turned to him and said, “Could I ask you something rather bold?”
“Certainly,” he said, hoping her question had nothing to do with his brother, his time on the front lines, or any other personal demons.
“Do you think your head gardener would mind if I provided a short list of chores for your groundskeeping staff to undertake?”
“I doubt it,” Reese replied. “I believe he’s been housebound for almost a year. I’m sure he doesn’t expect the garden to remain untouched in his absence.”
“I wouldn’t want to overstep,” Sophie said. “And the suggestions would be small improvements intended to restore the garden to its former glory. I have no wish to turn it into something else, because … well, there’s something magical about it, just as it is. I’d hate for a well-meaning but overzealous member of your staff to try and change the essence of the garden.”
“No, we’ll ensure that it retains its Underworld quality, so Hades always feels right at home,” he teased before adding, “I’d be grateful for your suggestions. What would you like to see done?”
“Why don’t I write out a list?” she said, setting her napkin on the table. “With instructions you can give directly to your staff.”
“Very well.” He pulled out her chair and led her down the hall to his study, where he invited her to sit at his desk.
“You have a few unopened letters here,” she said, pointing to three envelopes addressed to him, sitting near his quill.
“Yes.” All of the letters were from the same woman. He’d never met her, and yet he knew a dozen little details about her—that her hair was the color of a sunset and her skin was as freckled as a quail’s egg. That she made the best suet pudding and the worst kidney stew in all of England.
Her latest letter had arrived yesterday, but the others had been sitting there for at least a week before that. Taunting him, tormenting him. But he couldn’t bring himself to open them.
So he unceremoniously swept them into a drawer and produced a clean sheet of paper for Sophie.
He prowled the study while she wrote. A few minutes later, she set down the pen and stood. “There,” she said, leaving the paper on the desk. “This will make a fine start.”
“Thank you.” He moved away from the window, where he’d kept an eye on the pebbled drive in front of the house. “The hackney cab just arrived.” He wanted to ask her where her family thought she was and whether she was going directly home now. He wanted to know if Lord Singleton treated her well and whether she looked at him the way she’d looked at Reese when he’d given her the flower crown.
But he knew damned well those things were not his business.
“Well then,” she said with forced cheerfulness, “I suppose I shall see you next Friday evening. Same place, same time?”
“Yes,” Reese said, already wishing away the days in between. “I will see you then.”
He picked up her portmanteau, walked her outside, and stood back while Sophie spoke to the driver, presumably giving him an address. Then Reese paid the man and opened the cab door for her.
“Promise me that you’ll take care of yourself,” she asked, her forehead creased with concern. She took a satchel of herbs from her reticule and dropped it into his palm. “Ride your horse during the day and try to sleep at night. With the valerian-root tea or without it. In your bed or under the stars. Just…” She tilted her head as though searching for the thing that would help him most. “Just … think of me.”
“I will,” he said solemnly. At last, he’d made a promise that would be easy to keep.
“You’re acting rather nervous today,” Lily said, narrowing her striking green eyes at Sophie. “Like the time we hid a frog in Miss Haywinkle’s bed, and you insisted on sneaking back into her room to take the poor creature out.”
“I felt bad for Miss Haywinkle—and the frog,” Sophie said with a laugh. “But you’re right. I confess I am feeling anxious.” She’d been frazzled ever since the hackney cab had dropped her off at Fiona’s house an hour ago. Lily and Fiona were more like sisters than friends; Sophie wasn’t accustomed to keeping secrets from them.
And Reese was a very big secret.
The trio of women had gathered that morning, as they did each Saturday, to discuss their plans for the next Debutante’s Revenge column. They’d taken care of business quickly, which left them time to chat and catch up on the week’s events. But for Sophie, the last twelve hours with Reese had eclipsed everything else in her world.
“Would your nervousness have something to do with your whereabouts last night?” Fiona asked, momentarily looking up from her easel. There was no hint of censure in her voice. Sophie knew instinctively that Fiona and Lily would never judge her harshly—even if most of the ton would. “Did something happen after the meeting?”
“Yes,” Sophie admitted. She stood, walked to the window of Fiona’s lovely studio, and swept aside a gauzy silk curtain so she could gaze at the trees outside, just beginning to bud. “I’m involved in a new project. It’s only temporary,” she said, feeling an unexpected pang. But she’d known her involvement with Reese couldn’t continue once she was betrothed to Lord Singleton.
“I’m sure I’ll tell both of you all about it one day soon,” Sophie continued, “but I’m not quite ready to share.” She was still sorting out her own feelings about Reese and didn’t trust herself to talk about him without revealing more than she should. She knew Fiona and Lily would support her, no matter what. They’d encourage her to follow her heart.
But Sophie did not have that luxury.
It wasn’t possible for her to pursue her own happiness—not when her family’s future rested on her shoulders.
“You may confide in us if and when you wish,” Fiona said sincerely. “We would never press you to reveal your secrets.”
“Speak for yourself,” Lily quipped, flashing a mischievous smile. “I want to know everything.”
“Pay no attention to her,” Fiona said, shooting her sister a slightly scolding look. “We know and trust you. Unlike a certain person in this room”—she rolled her eyes meaningfully in Lily’s direction—“you’d never engage in behavior that was illegal or improper.”
“Of course not,” Sophie said, perhaps a bit too vehemently.
Lily laughed and rubbed her palms together with obvious glee. “Miss Sophie Kendall,” she teased, “you are involved in something scandalous, and I, for one, cannot wait to discover what it is.”