Page 31 of Without Pride and Prejudice

When we felt like we were safe, we slowed to a moderate walking pace, breathing hard and even laughing, our hands clasped and swinging between us. I’d never seen Fitz so carefree.

“Fitz,” I said breathlessly.

“Yes.” He raised our clasped hands and kissed mine. It was so romantic.

“How? When? Why? Where?” I giggled, needing to know everything.

Fitz halted near a tall Scots pine tree, his face radiating adoration. “How could I not fall for you, beautiful friend? You, who knows me better than anyone, even myself. You, who have looked past my title and money and seen only me, never wanting a thing other than the pleasure of my company. Who wouldn’t want a woman like you?”

Oh. He. Was. Good. Like, really, really good. “How long have you felt like this?”

He pulled me to him. “How long have we known each other?”

Whoa. “That’s a long time. Why didn’t you say anything? I had the biggest crush on you in school, but I hid those feelings because I didn’t think you would ever reciprocate them.” My fingers danced across his lips, waiting for his response and aching for another kiss.

Fitz captured both my hands, our fingers intertwining naturally. He held our clasped hands to my sides, steadying me before skimming my lips with his own.

“You’re really good at that.”

“I know,” he whispered against my lips.

I tittered like a schoolgirl, so enamored with him and this moment. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He swallowed hard. “Monroe, we come from different worlds. I didn’t want to thrust mine on you. I know how cruel and unforgiving it can be. And you ...” He cleared his throat.

“I’m not duchess material,” I stated flatly, voicing the thing he didn’t wish to say, the thing that his kiss had made me forget.

“Not at all.” He let out a heavy, disappointed breath.

“Not at all?” I questioned. That was harsh. I mean, yes, it was true, but he could have softened it a little. The man had, after all, just administered the kiss of all kisses—he’d basically ruined the prospect of all future kisses from anyone but him. Plus, I’d made him watchMary Poppinsat least ten times. He was aware that a little bit of sugar made the medicine go down.

“Yes, Monroe.” He seemed as if it pained him to say it, but he continued anyway. “You’re ... unconventional.”

“What does that mean?” I leaned away from him.

“Like today at the airport. You came waltzing out wearing three bonnets with dresses wrapped around your shoulders.”

“What else was I supposed to do? I gave away my carry-on to help someone.”

He sighed. “You didn’t have to give away your carry-on. That’s what I mean about unconventional.”

“Oh.” I pulled away from him. “I see. I embarrass you.”

“No.” He reached for me, but I backed farther away. “I just want to protect you from the vultures who have already started circling around.”

“You mean Lady Winnifred and Lady Catherine?”

“Well, yes, but there are others.”

“Your mother?”

“Monroe, theDaily Mailposted a picture of you at the airport. It was unflattering, to say the least.”

“Oh.” My heart sank, dropping down to my toes. The entire world could see thatunflatteringpicture if they wished to.

“We can smooth it over. You’ll just need to be more careful in the future when we’re out in public. We can do this together and create the right image for us.”

Did he just saythe right image for us? “You want me to change who I am?”

---