Page 28 of Earl for the Summer
“May I join you too?” Ivy asked.
Windham inclined his head. “Of course.”
Daphne knew Ivy was a terribly lackadaisical chaperone, but if it made Lily feel better to have her accompanied, so be it.
They headed out onto the back garden’s paving stones and paused. Daphne pointed to the line of roses. “We could start there.”
“Lead the way,” he said in a low voice that put an odd lump in her throat.
Ivy headed off to one of the cast-iron benches in the center of the garden, settled near a lantern on a post, and pulled a slim book from her skirt pocket. Ivy always kept reading material at hand.
“This one is called Madame Caroline Testout,” Daphne said, pointing to the first rose along the garden’s border.
“A striking color,” he said.
“It is very pretty, isn’t it?” Daphne felt his gaze on her, not on the perfect pink rose specimen.
“Very,” he agreed. “The same shade as your blushes.”
“Is it?” Daphne chuckled and then realized, with a bit of mortification, that she was, in fact, blushing. Of late, it seemed to happen whenever she was alone with Lord Windham.
He didn’t chuckle in response. Indeed, there was a quiet intensity to him tonight.
“There’s something I must confess to you,” he said as they approached the next rose variety.
“Yes, you said as much at Kew. I’m listening.”
He glanced over to where Ivy sat.
“You want more privacy,” she concluded.
Though she knew she shouldn’t, she reached for his hand and led him farther into the garden, toward some hedges, where they could be hidden from view.
Once they stood in the shadows, she considered releasing his hand but didn’t.
“Daphne,” he breathed, his voice so low it made her shiver. “I’m leaving London tomorrow, but before I go?—”
Daphne tugged her hand from his. “You’re leaving.” The two words made her throat burn. Tears welled, and she was furious at herself for being such a fool. Again. “Selina is spoken for, and so now you have no reason to stay. Is that it?”
“No. Selina isn’t my concern.” He lifted his hand as if he might touch her face, and heaven help her, she wanted him to. “Iwish I could stay. I wish I could—” He dipped his head and bent closer. “I wish I could offer you all that you deserve.”
Daphne rested a hand against his chest to brace herself because she was suddenly unsteady and touching him felt essential.
“Then stay,” she whispered.
She felt an urgency well up inside her, as if the moment was consequential but might slip through her fingers.
When he dipped his head, a curl fell across his forehead, and she reached up impulsively to stroke it back. The gesture seemed to embolden him. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.
It felt so good to be snugged against him that she let her eyes slide shut for a moment. It felt achingly right. As if she was secure in his arms—safe in a way she hadn’t felt in weeks—surrounded by his heat, his scent, the wisp of his breath against her skin.
“What is this?” he whispered.
She didn’t wonder for a moment what he meant. He spoke of the pull between them. Despite her fears, despite how fragile her heart still felt, this…magnetism between them was powerful. Undeniable.
“It’s dangerous,” she whispered, and yet she didn’t let him go. Didn’t want him to let her go. “It’s come on so sudden, and I feel like the worst of friends.”
“No,” he insisted, “you’ve done nothing wrong. I’m at fault. I’ve taken advantage of your kindness, your willingness to help others.”
