Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
As the group neared the expanse of lawn by the lake, the sun broke through the clouds. After the rain and dreariness of the last few days, everyone welcomed the warmth. Even Susanna, who felt the grey clouds suited her mood, was grateful for fine weather and a reason to leave the house.
Sensing her guests’ restlessness, Grace had set up a pall-mall game near the lake and urged everyone to play. While not particularly skilled at the game, Susanna was looking forward to hitting a ball with a mallet.
William had accompanied her outside, bragging about his abilities and urging Susanna to make wagers on the game.
In the last day William had become tiresome, but she tried not to let her annoyance show.
Her mind was occupied with Ambrose and Miss Witworth walking arm in arm at the back of the group.
Given Miss Colley’s growing attachment to Mr. Scott, it seemed logical that Ambrose had settled on the delicate and proper lady as his future wife.
Every feeling rebelled against the idea, but Susanna knew she must reconcile herself to Ambrose’s indifference.
Yesterday evening she had been saved from the trial by his unexpected absence.
He had left abruptly to visit a friend and not returned until after everyone had retired.
Even with him gone, Susanna had struggled to contain her emotions.
The best she could hope for this afternoon was to avoid him and avoid embarrassing herself.
When they reached the playing field, William excused himself to retrieve their mallets. Standing alone, she looked out over the lake. The water reflected the clouds and buildings. Her eyes strayed to the spot where she had kissed Ambrose.
She was assaulted by the memory of his hand on her waist, their lips pressed together, the heat building between them. She forced herself not to touch her lips. How could she possibly treat the man with indifference after that kiss?
She forced her eyes up to the hill and the Temple of Venus. She made herself dwell instead on his shock at the idea of marrying her and his list of her defects. That was the memory she needed to keep bright in her mind.
“Oh, Miss Susanna.” Miss Witworth came beside her. “Mr. Hartley has gone to prepare the rowboat.”
“That is very good of him.”
Susanna did not know why Miss Witworth was tormenting her with this information.
“He said he awaits you at your leisure.”
“What?” Frowning, she turned to Miss Witworth.
“He said that he promised to row you across the lake.” Miss Witworth spoke slowly as if to help Susanna understand.
She wanted to object and explain that Miss Witworth must be mistaken. But that would produce questions and require explanations. It would be simpler to go and see what Ambrose was about. She thanked the lady and turned to retrace her steps to the dock.
The small dock, with its two rowboats, was three stone’s throws away. Far enough that she might speak honestly without fear of being overheard. Ambrose, his back to her, was indeed waiting at the dock.
What was his game? Why had he lied to Miss Witworth? It seemed impossible that he actually meant to get in the boat with her. Susanna would interrogate him and then spurn him.
As she drew closer, he removed his blue coat, revealing a billowing white shirt and green waistcoat.
The same clothes he was wearing that ruinous day in the rain.
Then he turned and smiled at her, the smile that made crinkles around his eyes, and she forgot every objection.
She was like a fish, and the smile was the hook pulling her in.
Though she continued to walk, some of her self-preservation returned, and when she reached the dock, she was able to scowl at him.
“Why did you lie?” she asked.
His smile faltered. “Because I wished to speak with you and enduring a round of pall-mall seemed intolerable.”
His frank words warmed her. “Well, that is only because you are a terrible player.”
“I am not terrible. You cheat.” He was teasing, but the words stung.
“Another fault to add to your list,” she said bitterly.
“No,” he replied. “In fact, I took your advice and made a new list. Would you care to read it?”
He reached into his waistcoat and pulled out a folded paper. Susanna eyed it skeptically.
What might the new list contain?
“If you get into the boat, I will give it to you.” He waved the paper enticingly.
She needed to know what he had written. Despite her resolutions to avoid him, to cut him from her heart, she nodded.
He smiled wide, put the paper in his waistcoat, and gestured to the dock.
Their steps echoed on the wooden planks. When they reached the farthest boat, Ambrose stepped gingerly into it. After setting down his coat on the seat opposite him, he offered her his hand.
She swallowed, staring at it for a heartbeat too long. A sensible woman would not touch him, would not get in the boat, but—as he well knew—she was far from sensible.
She took his hand, and before she could think, she leapt from the dock.
The boat bucked beneath her, bouncing her sideways.
Ambrose’s other hand came to her side, burning her as it steadied her.
Breathless, she looked up at him. His gaze was soft, no censure for her ungraceful leap or for nearly throwing them both into the water.
Dazed, she blinked and dropped her gaze.
He released her side but not her hand. With more care, she lowered herself to the seat he had covered.
Once she was settled, he bent down to untie the knot securing them to the dock and then pushed against the wood post to move them into the lake.
The water splashed gently against the sides of the boat.
Susanna dared not break the silence between them.
As she watched, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. He was treating her differently, she was sure of it. But then she had been sure that Ambrose was going to propose. Still, him arranging the boat ride had to mean something.
As they bobbed away from the dock, she helped him pull the oars from the bottom of the boat and place them into the u-shaped braces on the side of the boat. As they worked, their hands brushed, and she wasn’t entirely sure it was by accident.
He adjusted his seat and began to row in long, rhythmic strokes, his muscles bunching beneath his white shirt.
He leaned forward, drawing closer to her before pulling back on the oars, the water sloshing and the boat gliding in response.
She should not have sat so near, their knees were almost touching.
With a deep breath she looked away, across the water. A pair of swans were on the far side, ducking their heads in and out of the lake. On the lawn, the game had begun. No one seemed to be paying attention to them, except for Grace. She stood facing the lake, leaning on her mallet in thought.
Did she think Susanna a fool? After declaring she would be indifferent, here she was alone on a boat with him.
He lifted the oars from the water and angled them down in their brackets to free up his hands. The boat continued to glide forward. They were approaching the center of the lake, far from prying ears but in full view of everyone.
Susanna turned to him.
“As promised.” He pulled the paper from his waistcoat with a flourish.
Susanna took the paper, eagerly unfolded it, and read the title.
Things I Need to Apologize For
“I know you want to pretend that yesterday did not happen,” he said softly. “But I don’t agree. At the very least, you must allow me to apologize.”
Without looking up, she read the list.
Things I Need to Apologize For
1. Blaming you for the broken wheel.
2. Pretending that I did not want to kiss you.
3. Being rude when the topic of marriage arose.
4. Listing your faults.
5. Assuming an understanding with William.
6. Being a jealous fool.
7. Being a fool in general.
8. Not realizing earlier the depth of my affection.
He was silent as she read, the only sounds the water on the hull, swans squawking, and distant laughter from the shore.
It was a rather complete list. She hadn’t the faintest clue what to do with it.
With each item, Susanna felt her heart beating faster.
When she came to the last, she read it three times to confirm she had not misunderstood.
“I can speak in great detail on each item if you require it,” he said.
She looked up at him and then quickly down at the paper. She took a steadying breath.
An apology was not a confession of love. He might only wish to satisfy Grace by mending fences between them. But then why had he written about wanting to kiss her, of jealousy, and of his affection?
Her foolish heart was ready to forgive him anything. But she could not let it lead her astray again. Instead of meeting his eye, she looked at his reflection in the water and attempted to at least act indifferent.
“I wonder if the list of my faults was longer or shorter than this one?”
His reflection grimaced.
“That is a list I wish you could forget.”
“It is burned into my memory,” she replied.
He sighed. “For that I am truly sorry. I am sure you recall that they were unsound reasons. Your dimple is hardly a valid argument against you.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Then why was it on your list? Why make a list at all?”
“I have asked myself the same question.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I believe that I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” She finally faced him, needing to see his eyes when he answered.
“Afraid of this.”
He reached out and took her hand.
Electricity raced up her arm—hot and undeniable.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured.
She took a stuttering breath as he turned her hand over and stroked her palm with his thumb. She looked at their hands, mesmerized by the sensations he stirred in her with such a simple touch.
“I felt it in London, but when we danced here the pull to you was undeniable. I pushed it away as mere passion. I did not want lust interfering with my plans. I made the list to help me resist temptation.”
Was denial of his attraction really why he wrote his list? Did it account for his steadfast declaration against marrying her? Heat crept up Susanna’s neck, spreading to her cheeks. She rather liked being labeled a temptation. Smiling, she looked up at him.
He groaned playfully. “That dimple haunts my dreams.”
He lifted his other hand to her cheek, as if he would touch the dimple he said he hated.
The boat came to a sudden stop, jerking them forward awkwardly. Their momentum had carried them to the far shore without either noticing. They both laughed at their predicament and then spent several minutes trying to use the oars to get out of the mud.
“You might need to climb into the water and push,” Susanna joked.
“I’m beginning to think you enjoy seeing me soaked through.”
The words conjured the image of him standing half dressed in the lake. Even in her anger, it had been impossible not to stare and admire. Was it any surprise she had kissed him?
“What is that look?” he asked roughly.
“Nothing.”
“It is not nothing. I’d wager I know precisely what you are thinking because I am thinking of it too.”
She swallowed and met his darkened eyes. It was a look she was beginning to recognize. It was the look of a man who wanted to kiss her. Heaven help her, if they were not in full view of the entire party, she would have closed the distance between them.
“They must remain thoughts,” she said unsteadily. “We should free ourselves from this mud.”
He nodded but for two long heartbeats did not look away.
Nervously, she lifted her oar and it seemed to break the spell.
Ambrose ducked his head and they returned to the task at hand. Eventually they liberated themselves and, with a few strong pulls on the oars, they were gliding to the center of the lake. As he rowed, she could not help asking questions.
“Why did you insist on riding in the gig with me?”
“I was jealous of you and William.”
“That I can forgive. For I have been jealous of every woman on your arm this year.”
“Truly?” His smile was hopeful as he leaned forward.
Susanna nodded.
He pulled back on the oars. “Then I propose we both promise to only give attention to each other.”
“Why, Mr. Hartley, are you requesting a courtship?” she teased.
He leaned forward, pulling the oars from the water and fixing her with his brilliant green eyes.
“Yes, if you will have me.”
Susanna wanted to shout her agreement but found her throat was too tight for speech. Instead she nodded, her eyes pricking with happy tears.
“Good.” Ambrose’s smile was broader than she had ever seen.
He slid forward, their knees touched, and he reached for her hand once more.
She would never tire of holding his hand, but she wished they were not so exposed to the view of others. Such an agreement deserved to be celebrated with a kiss. She met his eyes, and the look of ardor had returned. His gaze darted to her lips. On impulse she lifted his hand and kissed it softly.
“This went far better than expected,” he said as their hands returned to her lap.
“Oh? Did you have an elaborate plan?”
“Certainly. I would not leave something this important to chance.”
She cocked her head. “And what did you plan?”
His thumb rubbed her knuckles. “I thought you wouldn’t even come to the dock. Or that you would push me into the water or list my faults.” He shrugged. “I deserve much worse.”
“Perhaps you do. But as I recall, you want your future wife to be forgiving.”
He scoffed. “That is on my list.”
“I know.”
He tipped his head and smirked. “Curious how you seem to have those requirements memorized. Any particular reason the topic was so captivating to you?”
She tipped her head and smirked, mimicking him. “Why no, no particular reason.”
Ambrose laughed, a deep, satisfying laugh that carried across the water. Susanna joined him.
It should have scared her how much she wished to kiss him or how easily she had forgiven him. But all she felt was warmth and a deep peace.
It had been many years since Ambrose had so easily teased her. Here was the Rosie she had known was underneath all his scowls and scolds.
All would be different now. She could sense the seeds already beginning to grow. He was going to court her, and she was eager to experience all that he had planned.