“Well, there’s nothing to be done about it.” He kneeled in front of her and her hands came to his shoulders. He flinched at the touch, more out of surprise than anything.
Unlacing one boot, he turned his attention to the other. Then he stood and took her waist once more.
“What are you—?”
He lifted her clean from the boots and swung her into his arms. Her tiny frame at least meant he could hold her easily. She weighed no more than a feather and fit effortlessly against him.
“Oh!” she exclaimed as he held her close and made his way to the horse, careful to avoid the big mud patches that would put them back in the same position.
Once she was safely on the horse, he joined her, positioning her so that he could ride with ease. She let him and ended up tucked against his body. The scent of roses encircled him. He could not deny it was a pleasant scent—quite removed from that of a young girl smelling of pine trees.
He peered at her. Sometimes he forgot she was a grown woman. She was still short and scrawny as ever. Even the corsets and bustles did little to enhance what few womanly attributes she had.
Cleo was not short on admirers, however. Though her bright red hair and freckles were not classically attractive, she had quite the brain and there had been a few intellectual men who were enamoured with her. Apparently they were frightfully boring, and thus, she had rejected them. After that, no man seemed to bother. They were fools, if you asked him. No woman could trade words and wits quite like Cleo Talbot.
“You were heading home?”
“Yes.” She glanced up at him from her sideways position. “I do hope I am not being an imposition.”
“Well, if you really want to walk home with bare feet...”
“No, no. I was just saying it to be polite really.”
They both laughed, and he eased the horse around in the direction of Chetwyn Lodge. Though he couldn’t push Peridot as fast as he would have liked, they’d had a good run across the hills. Cleo gripped him tight, and he kept her safe in the cocoon of his arms.
There was something exhilarating, being out in the countryside with an old friend who had always enjoyed the outdoors as much as he. His brothers were hardly an inactive bunch, but they had preferred to spend their time wrestling or playing cricket. He’d always chosen to wade down a stream or climb a tree, and Cleo had been the same.
He slowed the pace when the chimney stacks of the lodge came into view. Her family seat and his own were only some five miles apart so their families had been closely connected for hundreds of years. Really, Cleo’s friendship had been one of the few he’d had during his childhood.
“How is Billy?” he asked.
She smiled up at him at the mention of her older brother. “Well. Enjoying married life, I believe. He is honeymooning in Madeira.”
“Lucky devil. I would wager it’s a darn sight warmer there than it is here.”
“I imagine so. And no mud.”
He laughed. “Somehow I think you would manage to find some. You seem to be a magnet for the stuff.”
“What of your family? Are you enjoying having them all together?”
“It’s a little noisy.”
“You always did prefer the peace and quiet.”
“As did you, if I recall.”
“I still do sometimes.”
Gideon guided the horse down the slope of the hill toward the start of the Talbot land. A small ditch separated it from the farming land and the fallow hills. Peridot crossed it with ease, in spite of having the extra burden to carry.
Not that Cleo was much of one.
“Still, it’s good to see your family. I’m sure your mother misses you when you’re gallivanting about the country or staying in London.”
“I do not gallivant.” Though, truth be told, he did not much like staying in one place for long. It was hard to when one did not feel much like they belonged anywhere. “And my mother couldn’t give a fig about what I do.”
“I am sure that’s not true.”
“It is, I am afraid to say. We do not all have perfect parents like yours.”
“Not so perfect,” she muttered.
“Is this to do with marrying Harpy?” He’d heard she was being pressured into marriage. Somehow, he didn’t think she would let herself be pushed into something like that.
“They will not let it slide. As far as most of the county is concerned, we’re practically engaged.”
“He’s a bloody idiot. You would be miserable.”
“He’s not so bad. Just because you two never got along does not mean everyone else has to hate him too. But I don’t like having my hand forced.”
“So you will marry him?”
As far as Gideon was concerned, Niles Harper was an idiot. He’d been a dull, idiotic child when they were younger and had only grown in idiocy over the years. His only saving grace was attending Eton, it had polished him somewhat, but there was no disguising the man was thoroughly unworthy of Cleo.
“I may,” she conceded. “I should have married long ago, as you well know, and I could think of worse things than marrying one’s friend.”
“But Harpy of all people.”
She lifted her chin. “We’re a good match.”
Gideon tightened a hand around the reins and released it. He might not want to see her married to some bore but she could not stay alone forever. Why should it matter to him if she married a fool?
“Here we are,” she announced brightly as they came up to the gates of the house.
When he glanced at her, he noted two bright spots of colour on her cheeks. Cleo was trying to change the subject. There was no way she wanted to marry Harpy.
He dismounted with ease and helped her down, swinging her into his arms before she could touch the ground. She gave a squeak and held tightly onto his neck. That damn fragrance was back again and now it was combined with the soft touch of her fingers. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
“You cannot carry me in,” Cleo hissed.
“Well, the ground is damp, and I can hardly let you walk across it in your stockings.”
“Hurry up then. Deposit me at the front before anyone sees us.”
“No one will think anything untoward. We’ve been friends forever.”
Nevertheless, he hurried over and placed her on the step underneath the pediment, where her feet would stay safely dry.
“You forget sometimes, Gideon, that we are no longer children. It is scandalous enough that I should be with you unescorted, let alone be in your arms.”
He ran his gaze over her, unable to resist. From her slightly skewed hat to her stockinged toes, she was every inch the grown woman. Her bright eyes peered up at him from under the brim. His heart did a bounce.
A woman indeed. Scrawny, freckled, far too opinionated. But nevertheless there was no mistaking her for the child she used to be. He wasn’t sure why he had not noticed it before—he could only blame the busyness of the social situations they found themes in—but she had grown into quite an attractive woman. The petite figure and red hair combined with her freckles was bizarrely alluring. No wonder damned Harper wanted her.
As for her opinions, well, he’d never liked quiet women anyway. Harper, however, wouldn’t appreciate her bold tongue.
Damn fool.
“Gideon?”
He gave himself a mental shake. “Forgive me. I was just thinking of when we were younger.”
A sad smile stretched her full lips. “When things were simpler, you mean.”
“Yes. I do miss those days, I confess.”
“Me too.”
They locked gazes. Some odd sensation pounded through the air between them. Like the start of a storm. He could feel it in his bones.
She twined her hands together. “Well, then…”
“Yes.”
“Would you like to come in for some tea? I’m sure Mama and Papa would be delighted to see you.”
He glanced at the grim skies. Perhaps
there really was a storm coming. “No, I had better return. The others shall be wondering if I’ve fallen off in a ditch or some such.”
“Well, thank you for coming to my rescue. I fear I could have been stuck there for quite some time. You may well have saved my life.”
He shook his head but grinned. “And it would not be the first time.”
“Don’t forget how many scrapes I helped you out of, Gideon Cynfell. I hope you shall not be recounting when you rescued Cleo Talbot from the mud because I have plenty of stories of my own to tell.”
“Do not fear; it shall be our little secret.”
On impulse, he leant in and kissed her cheek. She stiffened. He drew back. Colour now covered most of her face, making it a rather unbecoming beetroot red.
What on earth had possessed him to do such a thing? He never kissed her. They barely touched really. The last time likely would have been when they were younger and still playing together. The transition to an adult friendship had been an odd one, and he supposed they had never quite managed to forget they had once raced through forests together and swung from trees, then helped nurse each other’s sore knees and bruises.
Cleo gave a strangled sort of cough. “I had better get inside. Will you be staying in Warwickshire for long?”
“A little while, I think. We’ve got a few more celebrations to make now that the baby is born. I suspect you’ll be receiving an invitation or two soon enough.”
“Mama will be thrilled. She’d love to see the baby. She’s terribly desperate for her own grandchildren.”
He tried not to consider with whom Cleo might be making children with soon. Just the idea of Harper’s clammy hands on her gave him a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Enjoy the rest of your day then. I shall see you soon, no doubt.” Gideon tipped his hat.
As he walked away and mounted his horse, stealing one last glance at her on the step, he could not help but hope he saw her again, and sooner rather than later.
Chapter Two
Cleo tried to ignore the hopeful smile her mother bestowed upon her when Niall Harper entered the drawing room. Even her father, who normally did his best to avoid at homes stood in the corner, watching them both. She was fairly certain he was holding his breath in desperate anticipation just in case today was the day that Niall would finally ask the question.
She summoned up an eager smile herself as Niall sat opposite, his hands perched upon his knees and his back rigid. Once upon a time they had played together, enjoying the countryside and sharing their interest in nature. Of course, Gideon—ever the fun-loving child—never failed to turn up and cause chaos, and distract them from their studies. Cleo never minded though. As much as she enjoyed searching for new flora and fauna and sketching them in her book, she’d always enjoyed his company more. He had this wonderful way of bringing out the fun side of her.
Holding back a sigh, she fingered her cup. The weight of expectation began to fill the generous drawing room. Each breath felt heavy and every eye was upon her.
“I did not know you were in the county, my lord.”
“My business in Bath is at an end and there’s much to keep me busy at the estate. Father’s health is deteriorating further, I am afraid to say.”
“I am sorry.”
“How good of you to take time out of your busy schedule to see us,” her mother put in.
Cleo tried not to grimace at the sickly sweet tone of Mama’s voice—a woman who could often have been counted on to give them quite the scolding when need be. Goodness, her family were near to dropping to their knees and kissing his shoes.
All this over a man who was only the heir to a viscountcy.
Not that she minded. Rank meant little to her and her father was very business-minded. She would never want for anything. However, she distinctly remembered her mother and aunt discussing her prospects years ago when she had first entered society. Cleo deserves no less than an earl, her mother would say. And Aunt Clementine had agreed.
But now she was old and unwanted, anyone would do, it seemed.
She watched Niall over the brim of his cup while he engaged her uncle in a little conversation about crop rotation or some such. He was not hideous at least. His ash blonde hair was neat and though he had no chin to speak of, his eyes were nice and he had an excellent mouth. Could she kiss it though? Touch his face? Put her fingers through his hair?
A tiny shudder wracked her. He wasn’t repulsive, she told herself. And she certainly was not so fickle to judge a man entirely on his looks. However, she could not help but think she would find him more attractive if he were a little more interesting.
“I heard you were in Yorkshire recently,” Niall said, his gaze lingering on her for far too long.
Hand clasped tight around the cup, she resisted the need to squirm. “That’s right, I have cousins there. I spent much time on the moors. I think you would find it quite interesting.”
His eyes lit. “Yes, I’ve been meaning to take a trip there, but as you know, life keeps me busy. I was hoping to go to Scotland before the season ends. They’ve some wild flowers I would dearly love to sketch.”
She smiled tightly. What was wrong with her? Why did his enthusiasm for something she enjoyed not fill her with excitement?
Perhaps because the only time he ever seemed passionate was when he talked of botany.
Whilst it would certainly be an advantage to share a hobby with her husband, did she really want to marry someone who was clearly more excited by flowers than he ever was by the opposite sex?
When she had been younger, she’d thought she would marry someone passionate. Someone who adored her and would quote sonnets and bring her flowers. He would indulge her hobby with new notepads and books. Encourage her to make visits to new places and admire her dedication. He would not, however, practically forget she was there because he’d spotted something far more interesting than her.
That would be her life with Niall, she just knew it. She’d spent enough time with him in her childhood to be able to easily picture how their marriage would go. She would end up being one of those typically discarded wives, holding up the estate whilst her husband gallivanted around the country, pursuing his hobbies.
Lord, she hoped he did not propose today.
Just a little while longer, that’s all she asked.
Her aunt flashed her a look that told her she was not holding up her end of the conversation before asking Niall about his family. Cleo could not bring herself to add much to it. The dread that had been building in her stomach ever since it had become clear Niall was interested in her was becoming heavier by the day.
She was a spinster. No one else wanted her. She had missed her chance to marry other men and now she was left with Niall Harper. If she refused him, what would her future hold? She wasn’t even sure her family would let her refuse him. The simple fact was, as a woman, she had little say in the matter.
She hated this world sometimes.
“You ought to take Cleo along. I am sure Cedric would be delighted to accompany her, wouldn’t you, Cedric?”
Swivelling her attention on her mother, Cleo realised she’d been volunteered for something and had no idea what.
“Oh.” Her uncle straightened. “I, um...” Mama gave him a sharp look. “Yes, of course. Delighted.”
“Excellent.”
It surprised her that Mama didn’t clap her hands with glee. She could almost see the thoughts whirling through the woman’s head. Surely Cleo will finally get that proposal. But what on earth had she just volunteered her for?
“Will you join me then, Cleo?” Niall asked, leaning forward.
She longed to shrink back. To run away. To hide from her responsibilities.
Instead, she offered a polite smile. “Of course, I would be delighted to.”
What had she just volunteered herself for? She hoped it wasn’t something frightfully dull.
“Excellent. I shall come by on Friday then.”
A
nother polite smile. Another suppressed sigh.
They all rose with Cleo and dipped before Niall left and her father saw him out of the drawing room. Cleo managed not to fling herself back onto the chair and instead perched herself politely. Her mother watched her until she was forced to turn her attention back to her.
“What is it, Mama?”
“It shan’t be long, I suspect.”
“What shan’t?”
“The proposal.” She hissed it, as though it were some great secret or if she said it out loud she might curse the idea.
Cleo smiled to herself. That would not be so bad.
“You’re excited?”
Her smile dropped. “I—”
“Don’t you worry, my dear.” Her mother sidled over and sat on the small chair next to her. “Everyone gets nervous about a marriage proposal. But he’s a good man, and a fine catch too.”
“Once upon a time you would have said a viscount was too lowborn for me.”
“Well, you are the daughter of an earl. But the titled men of your generation are being snapped up quickly. I don’t see that you would be lowering yourself to marry Niall. And what a delight to be living so near us still.”
She grimaced inwardly. It would be lovely to live near them. As much as she enjoyed London and travelling around the country, there was nothing quite like returning home to her loving parents. They too would enjoy having her living nearby, she was certain.
“And what a lot you two have in common,” she continued. “I really could not have asked for a better match. Sometimes I think it lucky that you did turn down those other men. None shared your love of flowers like Niall.”
Cleo poured herself another cup of tea and faintly wished it was something stronger whilst the dear woman rambled on. She considered what Gideon would make of all this. He’d tell her not to be so daft and just refuse the man, but it was all very well for him, he was a man.
“I suppose Uncle will not like escorting me on Friday,” Cleo managed to say before her mother continued. “I don’t have to go if it is too much inconvenience.”
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