“My lord!” Bernadette exclaimed, astonished, as she stared in disbelief. “Is it for me?”
In his hand was a bunch of roses, a mix of yellow and white blossoms. She breathed in the scent of roses; heady in the cool morning air. She gazed up at him, heart melting with surprised delight. “They’re beautiful.”
He grinned. She had ceased noticing the scar, and when he grinned it was entirely irrelevant. His eyes glowed a soft, pale blue, creased at the corners with a lopsided smile that made her heart quicken.
“I’m pleased you think so.”
“They truly are,” she murmured, looking away shyly. She turned to Judy. “Please could you put them in a vase for me?” There was already a vase on the table, the blooms in it starting to wither at the edges.
Judy grinned and nodded. “Of course, milady.”
Her eyes sparkled brightly as she held Bernadette’s gaze. Bernadette wanted to grin back but tried to control the urge. Excitement and joy bubbled inside her. She looked up at Lord Blackburne, overcome with warmth and shyness.
He looked down for a moment, as if he felt as awkward as she did. Then he looked up at her, his blue gaze holding hers.
“I’m pleased you like them,” he murmured.
“I do. Very much.”
They smiled at each other, and her heart pounded. His gaze was warm and sparkly and inviting and somewhere within her rose a sudden longing, a wish that he would bend down and press those thin, expressive lips to her own. She felt her cheeks redden at the thought.
“I had thought to ask you on a walk,” he said, coughing a little as if his throat was tight, like her own. “But I understand that Lord and Lady Rothendale are away on business?”
“Yes, they are,” Bernadette agreed. She looked around. “Would you like to stay for tea?” She cleared her throat and felt heat flood through her, burning her cheeks. It was bold and daring and yet it also felt absolutely right to invite him. She glanced sideways at Judy, but she was arranging the roses in the vase, her back turned to them as if she wished to give them time without observation.
“Yes. I would like to,” he replied.
Bernadette felt how her heart pattered. She went to thebell-rope, trying to walk normally, to pretend that she wasn’t filled with a flooding mix of shyness, joy and delight. She felt as though his gaze was burning her back as she walked to the corner and pulled the rope.
“Would you care to sit down?” She coughed. Her voice sounded strange—too high and a little tight. She glanced at Judy, but her maid was ignoring her, fussing the lace curtains as if she wanted to let in more sunshine.
“Yes. Thank you.” He went over to the tea-table and settled himself in a chair. Bernadette went to join him, then stopped. Where should she sit? Opposite him, or beside him?
She was saved from an immediate response by Mr. Hadley arriving in the hallway.
“Please bring tea for us,” Bernadette instructed, amazed by her boldness. Mr. Hadley bowed.
“At once, Miss Rowland.”
Bernadette turned to Lord Blackburne, who was watching her, his eyes sparkling. She looked at her toes for a second, terribly shy. The way his gaze lingered on her made her feel self-conscious, but in a delicious sort of way.
“I trust you had a pleasant morning?” Lord Blackburne asked. Bernadette nodded.
“Yes. Very pleasant. I spent most of it playing the pianoforte. Mama and Papa are out,” she added, then remembered he already knew and fell into embarrassed quiet.
“Do you prefer to play without an audience?” he asked. He was grinning, as if that fact amused him.
“I do,” she answered, nodding swiftly. “Sometimes one’s music is not for other’s consumption, but for oneself alone.”
“I understand,” Lord Blackburne said slowly. “My sister Marcia would like that. She plays the pianoforte too.”
“She does?” Bernadette blinked in surprise. It had not occurred to her to ask if he had siblings. She’d assumed he had none, like herself. He nodded.
“Yes. Marcia is very fond of music. Clarissa prefers painting. They both adore horses.” He chuckled. His eyes softened when he spoke of his sisters.
“How old are they?” she asked at once, fascinated.
“Twelve.”
