Page 18 of A Tenuous Betrothal
Their song and intertwining harmonies blended together, filling the air around them. They sang it through twice, and on the last verse, Marc sang out his final long note a bit breathlessly and rested his hand on the saddle. “I love that tune. We sang it as children. Is it Welsh, then?”
Miss Davies’s hair hung down all around her, and when she turned to answer him, the sun shone on her face, creating a glow in her hair. He was momentarily enchanted.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “My mother sang it to me. It is so much a part of my own childhood that I don’t know if it is Welsh or just from my mother.”
“Well, it’s a national favorite in Oldenburg. In my country, it tells the story of our first attempts to fight off invaders. Really, I guess it talks of the party afterward to celebrate victory.”
She pulled out her ring. “And this is the Wilhelm family crest?”
“It is.” That ring, now hanging around her neck, felt as though his father had reached his hand out across the ocean to sternly remind Marc of his duty. “I wish to solve this mystery about our families’ connection most of all, I think.”
“As do I.” She hesitated, then spoke again. “I feel I must also say thank you for not lording any of this over me.”
“I get the impression you would not be so easily lorded over.”
She snorted. “Perhaps not. But you have not required I fight against you. On the contrary.”
He, too, was grateful that the two of them were as yet amiable with one another. He laughed at the irony. “For two people so dead set against marrying each other, we work remarkably well together to avoid such a thing.”
“You know, you are so correct.” Her posture was relaxed, her tone friendly.
She would make a remarkable member of the Londonton, perhaps even marry into the House of Lords, if not the Oldenburg nobility, he admitted.
“I see no reason you won’t be married as soon as you want to be.” Especially if any man ever saw her as she looked in that moment—comfortable on a horse, the sun lighting her face, hair falling free all around her.
“What do you mean?”
“You seem well-suited to the task; you and I will both be happy with your choice, or we won’t be making a choice.”
“Once again, we are in complete agreement.” She pulled her hair back from her face and retied it in a low bun. He missed its freedom immediately.
They continued on horseback, racing over roads until they caught up with the carriages. By then it was nearly dusk, and Marc was tired in his seat. He could only imagine Miss Davies shared in his fatigue. She did not complain once, but nor did she argue when he suggested they rest in one of his carriages. They tied the horses to the back of the more comfortable of the two, and he joined her inside as the sun descended below the horizon.
She situated herself in the corner, pulled blankets up around herself, leaned against the side, and promptly fell asleep.
Her features softened into a childlike expression. He resisted brushing the hair from her face, but only just. Something about her trusting, easy sleep warmed him. Her stunning features, her innocence, drew him to her. She was strong, capable, and brave but also trusting and vulnerable. And that combination was already starting to weave itself around his thoughts in dangerous ways.
He had sent expresses off to his ship and to Bartholomew and Sophie. With any luck, his friends were spending the Season in London, but there was, of course, a very good chance that instead, they were at their country estate on the north coast. In case they were, he had also sent an express there. And now all he had left to do was wait.
And plan.
He studied Miss Davies’s sleeping face as the first tendrils of moonlight flickered across her brow, and he knew that whoever married her would have to be special indeed.
Chapter Seven
Rhi woke more rested thanshe’d felt since before her father died.
The gentle sway of the carriage had changed motion, and she knew from the stopping and starting that they must be closer to Town.
She shifted and found Prince Marc gazing in return. Her ease and comfort in sleep were largely due to his presence. Perhaps she had an excessive amount of confidence in him because he was sent by her father. Or perhaps it was a silly female sensibility caused by the fact that he had rescued her that put her at ease.
Whatever the cause, she smiled in gratitude across the carriage at him.
He shifted, which made the last of a tender expression across his mouth visible in the moonlight. The sight of it brought her breathing to a halt. What manner of man came to rescue a stranger out of duty and yet truly cared about her? Surely, he cared for all under his responsibility.
She looked through her window. Tall, narrow buildings stood on either side of the road, almost creepy in the darkness. The stars were invisible, but the moonlight reached her somehow, and up ahead, a lit lamppost brightened their way. “I think we are in London,” she said.
“We are, but not the most savory part. Up ahead, though, you’ll see where the shops begin and then the homes, and the park is pleasant.”
