Page 34 of The Gentleman's Seduction
He was still looking at the frost, not her, and she hesitantly put a hand on his where it rested on his knee.
“My opinion was wrong. You bought me out of anger, and that anger is only a small part of who you are. There are other parts, better ones, that make you the man you are.”
“I’m not a good man, Livvy.”
She studied him closely. “You are, but I believe it’s been a long time since you let yourself see that part of yourself.”
He frowned at her, but it wasn’t an expression of anger. It was more as if she had begun to pull at a thread that held up the mask he was trying to hide behind. She would tug it down completely one day, and he would see that he was a better man than he thought.
“Finish your breakfast,” said Mr. Banks, then he paused briefly before continuing. “We could go to the frost fair if you feel up to it?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Oh, that would be lovely.” She dug into the remains of her breakfast, and he did the same. She tried to contain her excitement, but she was bursting with relief and joy. They’d made amends, and it seemed the awful distance between them had almost completely faded. When she looked at him now, she saw a man with a vulnerable heart just like hers, one hungry for affection and acceptance.
“Fetch your cloak,” he said with a gentle smile as they exited the dining room together.
“I’ll just be a moment.”
She rushed upstairs to retrieve her cloak and muff and put on her sturdiest black boots. By the time she got back down the stairs, he was waiting by the front door, hat in hand and wearing his black greatcoat, an image of masculine beauty. She blushed, trying to hide her face as she slipped her hands into her ermine muff and joined him.
“My coach will take us to the Thames.”
Martin led her down the steps to his coach, and they climbed inside. They sat beside one another this time rather than across. Their new closeness was far more intimate than she’d expected, and her skin flushed each time his knee brushed hers. She couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like soon when they…and how their bodies would…
Lord, I have to stop imagining going to bed with this man or my face will stay as red as a cherry all day.
She shivered a little, and he noticed.
“Are you cold?” He reached around her and placed an arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his side. It was such a simple thing for him to do, and yet it was torture for her because she could breathe in his leather-and-sandalwood scent, and she wanted to crawl onto his lap and get even closer.
“Yes, I was,” she lied. If she confessed to the nature of her thoughts, he might just kiss her, and then they may never get to the frost fair.
The closer the coach got to the Thames, the more she leaned toward the vehicle’s window because she could hear the crowds. When they reached the river, she stepped out onto the embankment with a gasp. The river was truly frozen over, and for nearly two miles on the ice, a town had been constructed. Wooden huts, vast canvas tents, and all other manner of stalls had been hastily constructed. Thousands of people were on the ice, and the noise of it, the cacophony of the impromptu village, was startling.
“Quite the thing, eh?” Martin asked with a chuckle. He gave her his arm, and she looped hers through his as they began to walk down the slope to the river’s edge. Her boots slid and she gasped, her heart jumping into her throat as she lost her footing. Strong arms banded around her waist, and she was caught safely by Martin, their bodies pressed close together. Even through the layers of fabric she could feel the heat from his body, and it made her delightfully dizzy.
She tentatively stepped out onto the ice and held her breath. When the ice beneath her feet didn’t shatter, she let the air out of her lungs in relief. She was walking on the Thames!
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a massive slab of stone at the river’s edge. Words were carved on it.
Martin read the inscription:
Behold the liquid Thames now frozen o’er
That lately Ships of mighty Burthen bore.
The Watermen for want of Rowing Boats
Make use of Booths to get their Pence & Groat
Here you may see Beef Roasted on a spit.
And for your Money you may taste a bit.
There you may print your Name, tho’ cannot write,
Cause num’d with Cold: ’Tis done with great Delight.
And lay it by, that Ages yet to come
