Nearly a Lady (25 page)

The moment the carriage stopped, Gideon and Peter hopped down. Winnefred followed them, a little surprised Gideon neither insisted she stay nor assisted her down. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was completely unaware of her presence. He walked toward the stream without looking at her. And when the outriders moved to follow, Gideon simply stopped them with a distracted wave of the hand.

He stepped onto the bridge and looked down as another wave of water splashed over and onto his boots. It didn’t quite pass his ankles. He didn’t stand there long but backed off the bridge and rejoined her and Peter on the road. Winnefred waited for him to say something, but he simply turned around and stared at the water.

Peter lifted his voice over the storm. “Sound as rock, that bridge!”

Winnefred nodded and looked to Gideon. “Shall we cross?”

When he said nothing, simply stared at the bridge, she assumed he hadn’t heard her over the wind and rain.

“Gideon, do we cross?!” she yelled louder, but still he didn’t answer. He gave no indication he’d even heard her. A sliver of unease wound under her skin. “Gideon?”

The unease turned to fear when he remained still and silent. Swallowing it down, she turned and spoke to Peter. “Go wait by the carriage. Tell Miss Ilestone to stay inside. Lord Gideon and I will return shortly.”

Peter glanced uncertainly at Gideon but ultimately obeyed. When he was out of earshot, Winnefred tried to maneuver herself into Gideon’s line of sight, but he simply peered over her head at the bridge. He was too pale, she thought. His breathing was too heavy. Water ran down his brow and cheeks in rivulets, but he didn’t appear to notice.

She took hold of his shoulders instead. “Gideon, what is it? . . . Gideon!”

He didn’t look at her, but he spoke, finally, in a voice so soft she had trouble hearing him over the storm. “A minute. It just needs to stop for one bloody minute so I can think.”

“What needs to stop?” The storm? The rushing water? He wasn’t making any sense. It was as if he was trapped somewhere else, fighting a battle she couldn’t see. But she knew torment when she saw it, and she recognized the pain in his eyes as the very same she’d seen when he’d woken from his nightmare.

“You can have all the time you want,” she tried, her heart breaking for him, “just
look
at me.”

It was as if she wasn’t even there. She stepped back and brushed the rain from her face. Pleading with him wasn’t working. Yelling at him wasn’t working. She had to think of something else. She couldn’t stand to see him so lost.

She looked at the bridge, at Gideon, and made her decision. She spun on her heel and marched toward the bridge.

Gideon was on her before she put a single foot on the wood. He grabbed her around the waist and dragged her back from the water before spinning her around in his arms.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

His arms felt like bands of iron, and his features were hard as stone. He was furious. She hadn’t known he was even capable of such anger. And all she could think was,
Thank heavens
.
Oh, thank heavens
.

She tipped her chin up and hoped the tactic she was taking was the right one. “Testing the bridge for myself. Someone needs to decide what’s to be done.”

“I will decide what’s to be done!”

She reached up, gripped his face with both hands, and forced him to keep looking at her, and only her. “Then decide, Gideon. Do we cross, or do we not?”

He swallowed hard, but his eyes stayed on hers. “No,” he said at last. “No, we do not.”

“Excellent.”

He nodded as if approving of his own decision, and as he did, the confusion and pain in his eyes began to fade. “The storm is moving quickly. We wait until it passes. The water will recede.” He nodded once more. “We wait.”

“We wait.”

Delighted, relieved to the point of giddiness, she gave in to temptation and pressed her lips to his. He tasted of the rain, with the faintest hint of the gin he’d nipped from the outrider. She had just enough time to decide she rather liked the taste, and to register the feel of his fingers brushing lightly across her cheek, and then he was pulling away . . . Slowly, this time, and without a single backward step.

She could have kissed him again just for that.

Gideon had other ideas. “Get in the carriage,” he said, his voice a little rough. “I’ll fetch you when it’s time to leave.”

W
innefred had no more than returned Gideon’s coat and opened the carriage door before Lilly reached out, grabbed her arm, and yanked her inside. “What on
earth
is going on here?”

“Good grief,” Winnefred gasped, pulling her arm free and taking a seat. “Give me a moment to right myself.”

“You may right yourself as you explain.”

Winnefred tried to take off her sopping bonnet, but the ribbons were tied into a hopeless knot. “There was a minor disagreement between Lord Gideon and myself. I thought it best to resolve the issue in private.”

“Private? I could see you well enough from the window, Winnefred Blythe. There was nothing private about that kiss.”

“Let it alone, Lilly.”

“I’ll not. You are my—”

“For now,” Winnefred tried. “For now, let it alone. Please.”

Lilly pressed her lips together, tapped a finger against her knee—which was not quite so encouraging a sign as a tapping foot—then said, “No. Absolutely not.”

Winnefred groaned. She should have known a spot of begging wouldn’t put Lilly off. “I love you, Lilly. I do. But I’ll not share a secret with you that is not my own.”

Particularly when she hadn’t the foggiest idea of what that secret might be.

“I’m not asking you to,” Lilly returned. “I am demanding you explain that kiss.”

“It was just . . .” She gave up on the knot and forcefully pulled the ribbons over her chin. “It was only a peck.”

“I’m not blind. I saw how you were looking . . .” Lilly sighed and trailed off. It was some time before she spoke again, and when she did, her tone was sympathetic. “Are you in love with him, Freddie?”

Winnefred frowned in thought. She’d not considered the notion before, and she found now that no matter from which direction she looked at the question, she couldn’t come up with a satisfactory answer. Worse, she couldn’t work out how she even felt about the idea. She hadn’t any philosophical objections to falling in love, but she did have some reservations, not the least of which was the notion of falling in love with someone who might not love her back.

She scooted forward in her seat, wrinkling her nose a little when her wet skirts bunched under her legs. “I don’t know. What does it feel like to be in love?”

“It feels wonderful,” Lilly replied. “. . . Until it doesn’t.”

“That’s not at all helpful.”

“The experience of falling in love is different for everyone.” Lilly cocked her head. “How does he make you feel?”

“I just told you. I think I might be in love.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, physically, do you mean? I find him quite attractive. Sometimes, when he looks at me a certain way—”

“
No
, that is not what I . . .” Lilly cleared her throat and carefully smoothed her hands down her skirts. “Yes, there are certain . . . corporal . . . er . . . indicators that certainly . . . indicate . . . Oh, dear.”

Winnefred shook her head. “I’ve no idea what—”

Lilly closed her eyes briefly and raised her hand. “Let me try again,” she suggested. “Does having him about make you happy?”

“Yes, very.”

“And when he is not about, do you miss him?”

“I suppose I do.”

“In a different way than you miss, let us say, Claire, or even myself?”

“Yes.”

Lilly nodded. “Then there is a chance you are in love with him.”

“Just a chance?”

“Only you can say for certain.”

Winnefred slumped back against the cushions. If she were capable of saying for certain, she wouldn’t have needed to ask. “What about . . . When did you know Lord Engsly returned your affections?”

“When he declared them to me.”

“Oh.”

Lilly laughed softly. “Give it time, Freddie.”

“Do you approve, then?”

“Naturally, I do.” Lilly leaned forward and gripped her hand. “For as long as he makes you happy.”

She could have done without the second half of that statement. “Do you expect him to make me unhappy?”

“Not intentionally, no. And he does appear to be quite fond of you, but . . .” Lilly squeezed her hand again before letting go. “He
is
the brother of a marquess.”

There it was, all her fears wrapped into one statement of fact.

She busied herself for a while, wringing out the water from the cuffs of her gown until she could gather the courage to voice those fears aloud.

“He reads poetry,” she said quietly. “
Real
poetry, not silly limmericks. And he’s traveled the world. He speaks of Aristotle, and he knows French. I wager he’s never forgotten which fork to use at dinner.” She worried her lip a moment. “Do you suppose . . . Do you suppose I’m just a diversion to him? Do you think he might see me as an amusing country bumpkin, and nothing more?”

“No,” Lilly said, and with enough force for Winnefred to know she meant it. “Absolutely not. I have no doubt that what Gideon sees is a very clever young woman who is
learning
of forks and poetry, and will one day be as familiar with each as any other lady.”

Winnefred tried, and failed, to produce a smile. By that logic, Gideon thought highly of the woman she might become, not who she was now.

Lilly spoke before she could. “And that’s not what I was referring to when I spoke of Gideon’s rank. I am sure he cares for you, but the brother of a marquess may very well have definite expectations placed upon him when it comes to his choice of wife. I shouldn’t care to see you disappointed.”

“Oh,
that
.” She made a scoffing sound in the back of her throat and decided she was quite done investigating all the reasons she might not be good enough for Gideon. “He doesn’t concern himself with those sorts of expectations, particularly. And it hardly signifies. I’m only
possibly
in love with him, and I’m not at all sure I want to be a wife to anyone.”

It was difficult to see without sunlight coming into the carriage, but Winnefred could have sworn her friend paled a little. “You listen to me very carefully, Winnefred Blythe. If you intend to pursue your interest in Lord Gideon, you will do so
only
with the goal of marriage in mind. The consideration of any other romantic arrangement is unacceptable. Do you understand?”

“But—”

“No.” Lilly didn’t snap the word, but there was a finality in her tone Winnefred knew meant there was no point in further debate. “No other arrangement is acceptable. Do you understand?”

She bit back the urge to argue. “Yes.”

“Promise me you will not even
think
—”

“I promise I will not enter into a formal arrangement with Gideon that does not meet with your approval.” She wasn’t any more interested in becoming someone’s mistress than she was someone’s wife.

“Good.” Lilly narrowed her eyes. “Now say it again without the formal bit.”

“Oh, look. The rain has stopped. That was very quick.” She reached for the door handle, intending to make a fast escape.

Lilly threw an arm out to block her exit. “Winnefred.”

She bit her lip, searching for a way to appease her friend without making promises before she’d thought through all her options.

“I don’t want anyone to be disappointed,” she said quietly. “Least of all you.”

Lilly hesitated, then nodded and let her arm fall.

Stifling a breath of relief, Winnefred climbed out of the carriage and closed the door behind her. The air felt thick and the ground squished beneath her feet as she walked to where Gideon stood, his back to her, watching the stream. Already it was beginning to recede, she noticed. The water barely topped over the bridge.

She hesitated as she neared Gideon.

How the devil was she to know? She had affection for him, yes. She was attracted to him, without question. She had respect for him and admiration and . . . And questions, she concluded. She had so many questions. About herself. About him. Now, however, was not the time to ask them. Not while he was standing alone under heavy gray clouds, his head bowed and the muscles of his broad shoulders visibly bunched under his coat. She set her own worries aside and stepped up beside him.

He spared her a brief glance and small smile. “Cold?”

“I’m not the one who stood out without a coat,” she reminded him. “You’re drenched.”

And rather adorable with it, she thought. The dark locks of his hair were beginning to curl up at the ends.