Chapter 32 #2
Meanwhile, the heat was rising, and after an additional hour of fishing, Calliope’s brow was dotted with sweat and her clothing stuck to her like a second skin.
It was a most unagreeable feeling, and for all of his bravado at Hyde Park that morning, when he hadn’t broken a sweat as they’d walked and discussed London landmarks and marriage proposals, the color of Edward’s cheeks was rising, and she kept noticing his hand reaching up as if desiring to undo the button at his neck before forcing it back down to his side.
Suddenly, with Edward’s admission still swirling in her head, Calliope felt that familiar itch to do something reckless.
She had meant what she’d said when she’d told Edward she could never marry someone who did not know how to have fun, and so her reasoning for why she did what came next were twofold: either Edward would join in the fun she was about to suggest and prove himself a good match for her, or the cool water would clear her head and make her decision abundantly clear.
She waited until Edward put the fish in the basket and glanced up at her. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he remarked, “That’s an even dozen. Should we call it a morning and head back before we die of dehydration?”
Calliope’s lips twitched into a playful smirk. “I have a better idea.”
She kicked off her shoes and held out her hands to him just as she would have done to Tommy or Charlie or Lenore, telling herself he was only a friend and holding hands was something friends could do without it having to mean anything.
His brows quirked, uncertain, but then his palms were sliding against her own, and she knew instantly that, whatever happened from here on out, she could never consider Edward a friend again, for it was not friendship she felt for him.
It was something much deeper, much richer, and much more terrifying.
She took a step back into the water, its icy coolness a welcome reprieve as it licked her ankles.
Edward’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid I take swimming in lakes very seriously.” She took another step back, the water rushing up her calves. “Come on, Edward. It would be a great adventure.”
Like striking a match, desire flared in Edward’s gaze. He removed his shoes as well, and it was all the invitation she needed.
Laughing, she pulled him forward. He fell into the water with a great splash, sending up a shower that made her squeal. Wiping the water from her eyes, she glanced back to find Edward standing, his white shirt drenched and revealing every muscle of his broad shoulders and tapered stomach.
No wonder she’d felt so perfectly held when they’d danced. The man looked as if he’d been sculpted from Italian marble by one of the great Renaissance artists.
Pushing back his sopping wet hair with one hand, Edward threw a mischievous grin her way. “Race you to the middle?”
Close your mouth, Calliope.
“Um, yes, all right,” she answered, clamping her lips together so tightly, she was certain he must have heard her teeth clack. “If you don’t mind losing to a woman, that is.”
“It is not losing to a woman I fear but losing to an American. I’m afraid I could never live it down.”
“Why?” she asked, feeling impish. “Your people have had plenty of practice.”
His gaze brightened at the jest.
“You better hope you outswim me,” he told her as he sank back down into the water, “or you will bitterly regret those words.”
“Is that a promise?” she teased, inching away from him to get a head start.
“Of the most serious kind,” he assured her.
Knowing she would need to take every advantage at her disposal, Calliope widened her eyes and pointed at the trees behind him. “What’s that?”
The moment Edward’s neck began to turn, Calliope took a deep breath, dove beneath the water, and kicked for the middle of the lake.
She swam with everything she had inside of her, but within seconds she felt the ripple of him closing in, giving her only a body length of distance between her feet and his hands.
She got two more strokes in before his fingertips grazed her toes, her ankles, her calves, until she was forced to break the surface or breathe water into her lungs from the laughter bubbling in her chest.
Edward’s head popped up next to hers.
“That was a dirty trick—” she started to say as they treaded water, but then she wasn’t saying anything, for he had taken her head in his hands and his mouth was crashing down upon hers, and her mind was swirling and their limbs were tangling and his fingertips were brushing the side of her neck, and it was everything they’d shared in the opera box multiplied by a million.
He pulled back gently, pressing his brow to hers, giving her the space to stop if she wanted to, and certainly she should have.
But her name was a whispered plea on his lips—“Calliope?”—and all she wanted in that moment was to feel his arms around her and disappear into everything they could be together.
She cupped his strong jaw in her hand and softly pressed her lips to his.
The initial fire that had threatened to consume them both softened into something much more tender, his arms holding her as if she were as precious and fragile as a china doll.
She had never felt so protected, so adored, in all her life, and there was not a single part of her that wanted it to end.
Not now. Not at the end of the week, when she and her mother were scheduled to leave.
Not ever.
She pulled back, her voice shaky as she murmured his name. “Edward, I—”
“Shh,” he whispered, his brow pressed against hers as he drew in a shuddering breath. “Look up.”
She did as he asked and gasped. The sky above them, which only minutes before had been a brilliant, cerulean blue, was now half-covered in thick, purple-gray clouds, moving fast toward the horizon. The wind was picking up as well, flipping the leaves on the trees.
Calliope met Edward’s gaze. “Is it . . . ?”
He grinned. “Rain.”
Suddenly, as if Edward had commanded it to happen, the swollen clouds burst open and a torrent cascaded down upon them, plinking and plunking off the surface of the water in fat, thundering drops.
Delighted, Calliope thrust out her arms, threw back her head, and shouted her delight at the sky.
Edward laughed and joined in, spinning her in the water as they both reveled in this long-awaited summer shower.
Edward sobered first, his gaze growing intensely serious as he pulled her close and gently brushed a strand of sopping hair from her face.
“You were about to say something?” he asked, a mixture of trepidation and hope in his voice.
She placed her arms around his neck and, although a part of her knew it was completely illogical to upend her entire life as she was about to do, she opened her mouth with every intention of reciprocating the feelings he had shared last night and accepting his proposal.
Until, that is, she was caught off guard by an unexpected sight.
“Is that a car?” she asked, her brow furrowing as her gaze locked on the headlights of an automobile just visible beyond the tree line.
Edward turned as the motorcar made its way up the gravel drive toward the house.
“It is,” he confirmed, sounding wholly unenthused by its arrival.
“Are you expecting someone?”
“Not that I know of,” he replied, “but with my mother, one can never tell.”
Calliope’s eyes widened. “Do you think they saw us?”
Edward shook his head. “Not with the reed cover, but what will we do about our appearance?”
“Tell them the truth,” she said.
Edward arched a brow.
Calliope grinned. “That we got caught in a rainstorm.”
He laughed. “That we did.”
He took one more moment to gaze at her, tenderly brushing the pad of his thumb against her cheek, before uttering, “Come along, Miss Hart. Let’s go see which of my crazy relatives my mother has invited to stay with us now. But promise to tell me what you were going to say later?”
Calliope nodded. “Of that, my lord, you can be certain.”
She allowed Edward to pull her toward the shoreline, her heart hammering in her chest, knowing she was on the brink of making the biggest decision of her life, one that would change the course of what she thought her future would look like forever.
But she could no longer deny that she had fallen in love with Edward, that she had possibly been falling in love with him from the very first moment she’d toppled out of that fern and directly into his waistcoat.
Perhaps it was foolish of her, but she no longer wanted a future that did not include him, and as they gathered the fish and began their walk back to the manor, the rain continuing to beat down upon them as they caught each other’s eyes and smiled, Calliope hoped some great sign would accompany her decision, helping her to know she was making the right choice and that she would not live to regret it.
My Dear Mr. Hart,
I think we’ve done it! We have been in residence at Lord Hayward’s estate for only a few days and yet I am certain a proposal is forthcoming.
I’ve watched the earl very closely, and he cannot take his eyes off our daughter to save his life!
I, of course, am not surprised. Calliope has been gifted with the ephemeral beauty and effervescent personality that made you fall in love with me all those many moons ago, and as you well know, that is an impossible combination to ignore!
Do not be anxious, however, if Lord Hayward does not propose, for I have been in correspondence with several ladies of the ton who have made it quite clear their sons are in dire straits and could use an advantageous match with a family as wealthy as we.
I have no doubt wedding bells will be ringing for our daughter before the summer is through.
Your loving wife,
Mercy
(Postmarked June 25th, 1908)