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He turned slightly toward her, his brow furrowing with gentle interest. “In what way?”

She wished she hadn't brought it up. She could have accepted his request and enjoyed it. Instead, she had found something to worry over before breakfast, and now the worry sat in her chest like a small, cold stone. “Here, we happen to be in the same rooms,” she said, tugging at her skirt. “We walk in the same garden. It is easy to continue a conversation.”

“I assure you, I can manage a conversation in London.”

She smiled despite herself, a small, reluctant curve. “I know.”

“Then tell me what troubles you,” he said.

His voice was gentle, but the question was direct. Elizabeth looked at the open door before answering, watching the sunlight move over the wet grass. “I should dislike discovering that you had asked because it seemed unkind not to.”

For a moment he said nothing. She looked at him, afraid she had offended him, her breath catching. His expression was more serious than before, his gaze steady and intent. “Have I given you reason to think that?”

“No.” She turned toward him, shaking her head. “No, you have been very...” Kind… She stopped before saying it, and his mouth curved faintly, though his eyes remained grave.

“I hope I have been civil,” he said, with a trace of wryness. “But I did not spend last evening wishing to kiss you out of courtesy.”

Heat rose into her face, so sudden and fierce that she pressed her gloved hand against her cheek. He leaned forward, resting his forearms upon his knees. The movement gave her a little more space, though his attention remained entirely hers, and his voice dropped, quiet and earnest. “I asked to join your walk because I wanted your company. I asked to kiss you because I wanted to. I should like to call because five days will scarcely be enough.”

Elizabeth’s vision blurred. She had imagined receiving another invitation. She had allowed herself to hope for another kiss. She had not understood how much she wanted him to speak of something beyond their visit until he did. The longing rose in her, sweet and almost painful. “I should like you to call,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

When she looked up, he smiled, bright and unguarded, without any of the careful polish she had seen him wear in the drawing room. The sight loosened something tight in her chest, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

“Good,” he said, his eyes warm on hers. “I should have made a very poor showing with Sir Henry’s horses if you had refused me.”

A wet, startled laugh escaped her, and she pressed the back of her wrist to her eyes, embarrassed by how close she had come to tears. “You must attend to them properly,” she said, her voice still unsteady. “You have already agreed to inspect them.”

“I shall count them before expressing an opinion,” he said, with perfect solemnity.

“There are two,” she reminded him.

“You remembered.” He tilted his head, a pleased, curious light in his face.

“I was standing near enough to hear him ask,” she said, lifting her chin, and felt a small, mischievous thrill at teasing him.

His brows lifted, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Then you knew what I was agreeing to before I did.”

Elizabeth laughed again, more freely this time, her shoulders shaking. He watched her for a moment, his eyes warm, and she became conscious of the quiet around them. The open doorway, the soft drip of dew from the eaves, and the small space between his hand and hers upon the seat. She could have waited for him to cross it.

Instead, she drew a slow breath and laid her fingers over his. He turned his hand and held hers, his fingers lacing gently through hers. The simple warmth settled her more surely than any reassurance could. She looked down at their joined hands, his large and strong, hers small and pale within them. Then she glanced toward the garden, where the sun had begun to burn the last of the mist from the grass.

“Will you tell me about your sister?” she asked.

He told her about his younger sister, Lady Caroline Westcott, and as he spoke, his formality slipped away. He stretched his legs out and rested one arm on the back of the seat. His gaze drifted toward the garden as though he could see her there. Lady Caroline shared his chestnut hair and green eyes but apparently none of his patience. She would soon begin her third Season and was fond of long novels, brisk walks, and offering advice he had not requested.

“She writes instructions in the margins before lending me a book,” he said, shaking his head with a rueful smile. “‘Do not skip this chapter’ is a particular favorite.”

Elizabeth laughed, the sound bubbling up before she could stop it. She pressed her fingertips to her lips. “She knows you well.”

“Unfortunately, she has begun asking questions to discover whether I have obeyed those notes.” His smile softened, and something warm and unguarded crossed his face. The look of a man speaking of someone he loved. “I fear she is too intelligent for most of the gentlemen seeking a wife.”

“Surely some would appreciate that,” Elizabeth said gently.

“One hopes.” He tightened his jaw in mock severity. He frowned at the doorway as though a suitor stood there. “Thus far, they have all been fools.”

Elizabeth smiled at his sudden severity, charmed by it. “All of them?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Every last one.” He folded his arms with great dignity. “Though Caroline assures me I am being unreasonable.”