“I’d be happy to fetch it so we can enjoy a nice ride.”
“The whole point in going for a stroll is not to sit.”
“This isn’t a stroll,” he grumbled.
“In any event, taking a carriage rather defeats the purpose, wouldn’t you say?” She glanced up at him as if she wasn’t sure he could grasp that fact. “I gather you’re not fond of walking.”
“How on earth did you deduce that?”
She ignored the sarcasm, choosing instead to concentrate on the traffic as they got ready to cross the street. He liked that about her. She was too sensible to allow a needling comment to ruffle her feathers so much she forgot about being careful.
“Fresh air and exercise are important,” she said once they’d entered the park. “Walking is the simplest way to obtain both and...” She glanced at him again. This time with the sort of appraising look that caused his muscles to tense. “Well, if you don’t walk you obviously do something else or you wouldn’t look like that.”
Matthew’s heart began beating faster. “Like what?”
She waved her hand at him. “Lean and such.”
He almost laughed, the stretch of facial muscles so foreign to him, he stopped mid smile. How had she managed it? He supposed it could be chalked up to the offhanded, matter-of-fact manner in which she’d delivered her dry remark, as if she were giving advice on how to select a good slab of meat.
“I’m glad you noticed,” he said. Was that a faint blush of pink creeping into her cheeks? Perhaps Miss Townsbridge wasn’t quite as immune to him as she’d like to appear? Smirking, he drew closer to her side and caught her by the arm. She jerked in response to his touch but didn’t otherwise pull away. Strange, the extent to which that pleased him. Deciding not to put too much weight on it - after all it only made sense that he’d appreciate some agreeability - he said, “I prefer to engage in physical work.”
Now why in the hell had he just said that? Wasn’t it his intention to share as little about himself as possible in an effort to maintain a comfortable distance? Why, then, volunteer this personal information?
Because you want to pique her interest.
If that had indeed been his aim, even if only on a subconscious level, it had the desired result.
“What sort of work?” she asked with no small amount of curiosity.
Not surprising since few aristocrats ever engaged in any activity that might be misconstrued as labor. As a duke, he was even less likely to do so and... He frowned. What if Miss Townsbridge wouldn’t approve? What if, in his haste to impress her with something he hoped she’d find more commendable than his approach to marriage proposals, he risked incurring additional displeasure?
Too late for that now.
“I lift rocks.”
She actually sputtered. “You what?”
“I started building a folly a few years ago.”
“On one of your estates?”
“No.” He hardly ever visited those. “Here in London.”
“In your back garden?” She’d stopped walking. Most likely so she could gape at him properly. “From what I’ve been able to make out, it’s not any bigger than ours, in which case–”
“I will admit the folly takes up a large amount of space, but it gives me something to do.” Something to busy his mind and steer his thoughts away from the constant darkness. “I decided to make an attempt at a medieval castle ruin.”
Her eyes held his, allowing him to notice their color for the first time. It was more complex than he’d have imagined, a golden brown shade of bronze seeping into an outer ring made of green.
Unable to look away, he remained perfectly still until the sound of her voice pulled him out of his mesmerized state.
“And you’ve been working on this for years, you say?”
When he nodded she made a soft huffing sound and recommenced walking.
“I also fence,” he said with a sudden and very perplexing need to assure her that he was normal, that he also engaged in gentlemanly sports appropriate to his station. The last thing he wanted was for her to start wondering if all his faculties were in order.
“I’d like to see it,” she said.
“I’m afraid the club is open only to men.”
“I was talking about the folly,” she said as they made their way onto a path that would take them toward the lake. “You sound so passionate about it, I think it might be a good place to start.”
“Start what?”
“Getting to know you.”
Dear God, he was an idiot. Getting to know each other was what he’d hoped to avoid. He didn’t want her getting close, bonding with him and sharing interests. He wanted distance and solitude - no cause for affection.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said on the heels of all that thinking. “I want you as my wife, not as my friend or confidante.”
She speared him with a scowl. “In that case we’ve little else to discuss. Good day, Your Grace.”
She veered right at an increased pace.
Damn.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. She was meant to see reason and tell him she’d reconsidered his offer. Instead she’d turned him down yet again without him even getting to the point of another proposal.
He should have insisted they stay in the parlor. No good ever came from walking. As evidenced by the blister starting to form on his right foot.
Irritated, he strode after Miss Townsbridge while cursing himself for selecting her. If it weren’t for the fact that the Season was almost over, he might consider resuming his search for the perfect bride. Except of course he’d already pondered every available woman. In the end, Miss Townsbridge was the only viable option not only for the obvious reasons, but because none of the others would have turned him down.
The fact that she had, made him want her even more. This - whatever this was - had turned into a challenge. One he meant to win even if he had to agree to show her the damn folly.
Christ almighty, she was fast!
He quickened his pace, cursing the blister with each step he took. “Miss Townsbridge. Please wait a moment.”
She drew to a halt and turned to face him. “There is no need for you to continue escorting me. In fact, I’m sure you’d rather not.”
Good God.
He wondered if she was always this merciless or if she’d just decided to give him some sort of special treatment. Considering this was a quality he’d not noticed during his observations, she most likely had.
“On the contrary,” he said, deciding it might be time to change his tactic, “I would enjoy nothing more.”
She actually groaned and muttered something beneath her breath, at which point he simply had to smile. Again. How unexpected. And yet, there was something wonderfully amusing about teasing this woman. It lifted his spirits and reminded him of the mischievous streak he’d had as a child. Before the darkness had swept in and drowned out his joy.
He deliberately blocked the memory by focusing his full attention on Miss Townsbridge. “I’ve reconsidered regarding the folly. I’d be happy to show it to you. Perhaps tomorrow if you’re not otherwise engaged?”
“Oh.” Her eyes had widened with surprise and he had to stifle a laugh. “What time?”