‘What say you we walk?’ He also knew that if he mentioned she looked ill, she would deny it and soldier on regardless and they still had the wedding breakfast to get through. Before she could answer he rapped on the roof and threw open the door, then held out his hand because with Charity, it was sometimes better to ask forgiveness than seek actual permission. ‘It’s a lovely day, the birds are singing and its only ten minutes to my mother’s house on foot and likely half an hour cooped up in here.’
She stared at the clogged street ahead of them and nodded. ‘A walk sounds delightful.’ As he had given her no choice, and likely because she also knew the alternative would have dire consequences, she took his proffered hand and then his arm. To give her the chance to regain her equilibrium while saving face, he set a sedate pace in the direction of Bloomsbury Square enjoying the feel of her nestled against him and wishing he could wave a magic wand and banish the awful morning sickness for her once and for all.
They strolled in companionable silence for a bit. At least it seemed companionable to Griff. What Charity thought about it, he had no clue, but she had a faraway look in her eyes, the colour was returning to her cheeks and she appeared content to be outside in the fresh air after an hour in the church. As they turned into the park she was the first to break it.
‘They adore one another, don’t they?’
‘They certainly seem to.’ And he envied that.
Only a few days into his plan to make her fall in love with him, he had been taking it slow, reasoning that such things couldn’t be rushed no matter what Luke had to say on the subject. But he had been an attentive and dependable presence since their wedding day, adjusting his working patterns so that he was around during the day when he could be with her while working in the late afternoons and evenings after he had dropped her off at the theatre. He had also made sure he was now the one picking her up at the end of the night. That was partly protective, partly because she fared better travelling at a sedate pace in his curricle with the roof open and partly so that they could ride beside one another beneath the moonlight. If the poets and great writers since time immemorial raved about the mystical and romantic powers of the stars, and Luke and Piers swore by them, he would be an idiot if he didn’t use them to his advantage too.
Not that he had been brave enough to attempt any sort of seduction yet, nor did he think one would be welcome. She needed to be comfortable in his presence first, familiar with him and that sort of romantic gesture needed to come after they were friends again and he had charmed her entirely. The friends part of the plan was the one he felt the most comfortable executing, the romantic and charming part, not so much. He had never possessed that knack nor been particularly good at flirting either. And the thought of presenting her with random bunches of flowers or jewellery while he waxed lyrical about her beauty made his toes curl inside his boots. True charm couldn’t be contrived—at least not by him. In that regard, he had more in common with his sister’s cautious husband than he did Luke.
‘Did you notice the way Captain Sinclair gazed at her as they took their vows?’ Her expression was wistful, allowing him to see that she envied the newlyweds too. ‘Or the way his voice caught as he said them?’
‘Or Dottie’s mile-wide grin after he grabbed her and kissed her.’
‘For a shy and reticent man, that spontaneity was rather...heartening. It certainly showed how besotted he is.’ Her smile was tinged with regret. ‘But it makes me feel doubly bad for trying to steer Dorothy away from him for all those months.’
If his last week of subtle wooing had achieved anything, it was a new openness between them. They weren’t quite as chummy as they had been at Appletreewick, but they were getting there and that was a start. ‘You were only looking out for your friend and ensuring she didn’t make a mistake by rushing into things.’
‘No, I wasn’t.’ She paused mid-step and pulled a face. ‘I was being selfish, Griff. I knew they were perfect for one another, right from the moment he returned last spring and they couldn’t keep their eyes off one another, but I purposely tried to stall things because I wanted to keep Dorothy here in London. I am ashamed to admit that I didn’t want to be the last of us girls to walk down the aisle.’
She risked peeking at him to gauge his reaction before she tried to shrug it off, only the bravado didn’t reach her eyes which were totally wretched. ‘That was me attempting to uphold my part of our bargain by being brutally honest with you—even though it is painful to admit to such shallowness and before you ask, I am not proud of myself for it. But after Faith then Hope fell in love and went and got married in quick succession...and then...’ As her voice trailed off, embarrassed, and she couldn’t meet his eye, they both knew she was alluding to Denby. That episode in her life and her lingering feelings for him hovered between them like a spectre, reminding them both that Griff was not her preferred choice of husband, but he was grateful nevertheless that she didn’t mention his name. ‘Well...let’s just say I wasn’t behaving entirely rationally at that time and my view of the world was a little skewed.’
‘It doesn’t matter now.’ Though somehow it did. Hearing her admit it, seeing her remorse, feeling her guilt made him envious of her self-awareness too. It was a brave thing to do to admit that you were entirely wrong. Braver still to admit to the reasons behind it. Charity could talk about her tangled emotions. That he couldn’t—yet—kept him awake at night. It was all well and good Piers encouraging him to bare his heart and Charity asking for it directly, but to bare it and see the remorse in her eyes that she didn’t reciprocate was too terrifying a prospect. One he certainly wasn’t ready for. ‘All that matters is that Dottie and her Captain are happy.’
‘I suppose you knew though, didn’t you? Or suspected what I was up to? You’ve always despaired of my selfish streak. Always seen through it and me.’
‘You make up for that single tiny flaw in other ways.’
‘I have only a single flaw?’ More bravado but he suddenly realised she cared about his good opinion far more than he realised. ‘And there I thought I had so many.’
‘Your occasional selfishness isn’t your only flaw, of course.’ He couldn’t resist teasing her a little and copied her playful tone, wishing he could flirt but was still too wary to try. ‘You have a casual relationship with time and care too much how your hair looks. And then, obviously, there is your rebellious streak and your selective deafness. Your penchant for theatrics...’
‘And there is the Griff I know and love.’ She rolled her eyes as she chuckled, unaware how the word love uttered in the same sentence as his name made his aching heart stutter and yearn for it to be true. ‘I might have known your seemingly pretty compliment had a list of caveats attached to put me firmly back in my place. A leopard doesn’t change its spots.’
It was a flippant comment, but he got the sense that she also believed it. That he only ever saw her flaws and not the myriad other attributes which made her wonderful.
‘But you make up for all that by your kindness, Charity.’ If he couldn’t yet flirt and confess his love for her, in the spirit of upholding his part of their bargain he could at least tell her some of what he really felt.
‘You are generous to a fault, with both your time, your talent and your charm.’ He swallowed, instantly tense and uncomfortable but he soldiered on. ‘You have the canny knack of putting everyone at their ease. You are a born diplomat who makes people feel important and welcome. You have the rare ability to ask exactly the right questions at exactly the right time, and then you listen to the answers with an interest I envy.’ She smiled and the honest words came a little easier. ‘You are steadfastly loyal. Incredibly witty and clever. Selflessly noble when the situation calls for it, as your spirited defence of me at our tense and painful wedding dinner proved. You are also fun to have around, resourceful. Ridiculously hard working.’ He began to tick them all off on his fingers despite his uneas
e at bearing his feelings for her. ‘Intrepid. Fearless. Charming.’
There was no hint of sadness in her smile this time—but there was open-mouthed surprise which shamed him. For both their sakes he should never have waited this long. He should have said all this years ago because every word was true. ‘Oh, yes—and you can sing a bit too.’ He held up his finger and thumb an inch apart, using humour to cover how exposed his heartfelt confessional left him feeling.
Her expression was bemused, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing and that shamed him too. ‘My goodness—I am all aquiver at such praise.’ She flapped a hand in front of her face as if it were all too much but he swore he saw tears swimming in her eyes. ‘If you are not careful, Gruff Griff Philpot, I am in grave danger of believing that you actually like me.’
It was on the tip of his tongue to confess exactly how much before he stopped himself in the nick of time. Too much honesty might only serve to make things more awkward if he admitted to everything too soon and it wasn’t as if he needed to hurry along his subtle courtship—thanks to the baby he had put in her womb and the ring he had put on her finger, they had eternity. ‘Let’s not get too carried away.’ Slow and steady would win this race. Hopefully. If he could work through the problem properly and subtly fix all the broken parts to make their basic premise sound enough to build upon. Then find the courage to say the most momentous words his heart ached to say. ‘I find you tolerable.’
‘You are such a dreadful liar.’ She grinned and snuggled against his arm. It played havoc with his senses. ‘Admit it—you like me a great deal.’
Thankfully, two children ran across the path laughing, saving him from answering. One clutched a brightly coloured paper kite, providing the perfect distraction from the present by transporting them both instantly back to the past.
‘That looks uncannily like the one you had in Brighton, doesn’t it?’ She nudged him with her elbow as they sauntered forward. ‘The one you flatly refused to let me fly.’
He cringed and she laughed. ‘Are you ever going to forgive me for that?’
‘I suppose that depends on whether or not you are ever going to forgive me for breaking your original kite.’
‘A quandary to be sure.’ He nudged her back, a little overwhelmed. ‘But you stomped on it, Charity. I had known you for less than an hour and you jumped on my precious kite in a fit of rage. A man doesn’t get over something that traumatic quickly. In another decade perhaps, when enough water has gone under the bridge, I might be able to give it some consideration...’ He waited for her to laugh but she sighed instead.
‘You were ten, Griff. Tall, handsome, intriguing and commanding and I thought you so impressive. Have you any idea how overwhelming that is for a six-year-old girl who had never really known a boy before to be confronted by such a magnificent specimen?’
It was his turned to stare open-mouthed. ‘Magnificent specimen?’
She shot him an imperious glance. ‘I was six. It’s a difficult age. Try not to judge me for my childish tendre or to interrupt while I am trying to make amends.’
A tendre was a good thing, surely? The urge to beam at the admission was overwhelming but he buried it. Or at least most of it. ‘My apologies. Please continue.’
‘When you entrusted me with your kite, I was so determined to impress you that when I couldn’t make it fly, no matter how hard I tried, I was ashamed. So mortified I almost burst into tears right in front of you, but I knew that if I did you would think me a silly little baby or you would pity me—and I couldn’t bear the thought of either. Therefore, I stomped on your kite instead. I am not proud of my childish response, especially as it only made the situation worse and you thought me not just a silly baby afterwards, but a silly, spoiled, annoying and irrational one too. And when I stormed off, I still cried. In fact, I was inconsolable for a week and if it’s any consolation, I’ve always felt guilty about it. So much so, I’ve never touched a kite since or dared try to fly one.’
She stopped dead and spun him to face her, shoulders squared and chin lifted. Bold and fearless as always. ‘Therefore, if I have never said it before, my apology for that day is long overdue. I am sorry, Griff, from the bottom of my heart, for breaking your precious kite. It was a mean and petty thing to do. Please forgive me.’
‘Because six is a difficult age?’ She nodded and Griff blew out a breath, pretending to ponder it rather than haul her into his arms and kiss her, which was what he really wanted to do. ‘Or because I am tall, handsome, intriguing and commanding?’
Her hands went immediately to her hips. ‘I just profusely apologised for a decades’ old crime in an impassioned monologue and that is all you heard?’
‘I confess, I heard nothing at all after the shock at being called a magnificent specimen.’ He wrapped her arm around his, enjoying her mock consternation and the gradual thawing of relations as the first part of his meticulously drawn plan seemed to be working. ‘If you are not careful, Mrs Philpot, I am in grave danger of believing that you like me too.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Charity awoke with his arm wrapped possessively around her waist and the unsettling feel of his big body spooning hers again. Only this time, she was staunchly under the covers and he was part clothed on top of them. She also had no earthly clue how they came to be so intimately entwined.
The absolute last thing she remembered after her horrendous middle of the night bout of nausea was Griff tucking her back into bed and stroking her hair while he continued to explain all the intricacies and benefits of Watt’s parallel motion. Because for some inexplicable reason, his soothing deep voice murmuring unfathomable technicalities and mathematical equations seemed to send her back to sleep better than any sleeping draught ever could. She had a vague memory of last night’s instalment having something to do with the precise linkage of pistons but certainly nothing beyond that. Nothing which would explain why they were apparently snuggled together—unless he had sent himself to sleep too with his purposely soporific delivery and then they had inadvertently drifted together like magnets.
He cuddled her closer as he shifted position, burying his nose in her hair, then immediately stilled. Categoric proof that he had suddenly awoken too.
She felt each of his muscles relax simultaneously as if he had willed them to do so. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’ His breath was warm against her ear and created a flurry of goose pimples down her neck.
‘All right... I think.’ But she hadn’t moved yet. Aside from the fact she was rather enjoying the unexpected pleasure of being held in his embrace, moving first thing, especially at any speed, was always problematic nowadays. ‘That’ll teach me to eat dessert. I knew that sliver of tart was a bad idea. I should have stopped at the toast you foisted upon me.’
Sudden nerves made her tongue loose. They had arrived home from Dorothy’s wedding celebrations late and because he had thought she looked pale he had insisted she eat something. Then, she had lingered in the kitchen while they shared a slice of pie, using the food as an excuse to enjoy his company just a bit longer after such a lovely day.
‘My stomach can handle toast but clearly apple tart is my new nemesis, and I shall have to add it to the ever-growing list of poisons which can no longer pass my lips thanks to our ornery demon child and his evil whims. Perhaps we should name him Lucifer?’
He laughed. A deep, unsettling, intimate rumble which sent ripples of awareness down her spine and into all four of her limbs. Then his hand slid to her belly and sent more nerve endings bouncing in several inappropriate places. ‘I thought you were adamant we were having a girl.’
As her body couldn’t be trusted with him so close, she twisted to face him making sure she put a good foot of distance between them as she did so. But even that wasn’t enough to settle things because he was sinfully rumpled in just his shirt and breeches. His sleepy dark eyes were hooded as he smi
led at her. His square jaw dark with morning stubble, the soft linen moulded to the muscles in his arms where he had propped himself on to one elbow and stretched taut across his broad shoulders exposing a tantalising V of golden skin at his undone collar. But his gaze was filled with happiness he made no attempt to disguise.
‘Girl, boy—whichever it is, it’s a menace.’ It was a battle to keep her eyes on his face. They were keen to wander and ogle because they remembered only too well what was hidden under that linen. And beneath those breeches. The memory caused a flood of heat to her chest.
‘And it’s all my fault. I know.’ He wound one finger through a tendril of her hair smiling as he tugged it. ‘But it will be over soon... I promise.’
‘You do realise that you have been promising much the same for the entire duration of our marriage.’ All sixteen days of it. ‘And you’ve persistently failed to come good on it.’
She sat, needing still more distance because this new incarnation of Griff was so intoxicating and unsettling, gathering the covers around her like a shield even though he had an intimate knowledge of what was under her nightgown too. For a moment, she thought he noticed her discomfort because he frowned slightly before it was replaced with a smile.
‘How about I make it up to you with some breakfast in bed?’ He quirked one dark eyebrow, making him even more rakish and appealing. ‘Can I tempt you with some insipid weak tea and dry, tasteless toast perhaps? I happen to know that in the absence of plain, boiled potatoes, it’s our demon child’s favourite repast.’
She was tempted indeed, but not by the food. The urge to touch him was overwhelming. ‘That sounds perfect.’
‘I know.’ He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose, an affectionate, familiar and doubtless friendly gesture which shouldn’t have caused her stupid pulse to quicken in quite the way that it did. But there had been a lot of affectionate gestures in the last week, all equally unexpected, fleeting and out of the blue, and each of them had played havoc with her nerves and her emotions because she had no clue what they meant.
How Not to Chaperon a Lady--A sexy, funny Regency romance Page 20