Chapter Eight #2
‘Well, more,’ Henry said aloud, twisting his spoon in his fingers as he spoke. ‘You know, more than merely spending a whole heap of money.’
Ditty raised an all-too-knowing eyebrow, and a rush of heat inexplicably rushed through Henry’s chest. ‘Like I require, you mean?’
‘Perhaps like you require, yes,’ Henry said with a wry smile, trying to force himself to lean back in his chair. Why was he finding this conversation so…so tense? And yet so pleasant? ‘But I suppose I meant more that everything in a proposal, and a wedding if it comes to that—’
‘Which you have already pointed out to me doesn’t always lead from one to the other.’
Henry winced.
Even if it was true. He had pointed that out, hadn’t he?
In this moment, looking at Ditty across the table from him, all-knowing smile and raised eyebrow, he almost wished he was wrong.
When had that last happened?
‘I suppose I mean, in a perfect world, there wouldn’t need to be these huge, grand gestures,’ Henry said, striking out for shore. ‘You know, these huge, expensive engagement rings that cost more than a monthly salary that Society ladies are starting to expect.’
‘You don’t think a woman deserves a pretty ring?’
‘I think a man deserves to be fallen in love with, not a jewel,’ said Henry with a laugh.
He thought for a moment he’d gone too far—but Ditty’s shoulders relaxed. ‘You know, in some ways I quite agree with you.’
Henry stared, accidentally dropping his spoon onto the table. It rattled, but it was nothing to how rattled he felt.
Ditty Oliver, agreeing with him that romance should not cost the earth? Was he dreaming?
‘Oh, not about the big, grand gesture,’ she said swiftly, evidently noticing his surprise.
‘I like a planned proposal, everything organised, in its place, the woman feeling loved and adored. It’s the ring, I mean.
If there is to be a ring, I would much rather have a family ring, a vintage piece.
These huge diamonds some people of the ton wear now—how do they get anything done with those on? ’
They laughed together, but Henry’s heart skipped a beat.
That was what Georgiana had said. What is the point, she had asked sharply, of you even asking for my hand if a gentleman twenty feet away cannot see the diamond glittering?
And yet the thought of Georgiana faded far swifter than it ever had. Sitting here in Reg’s was pleasant, eating parfait and chattering away about the ridiculous expectations of Society ladies with their diamonds. It was almost like they were…friends.
Which was ridiculous. Miss Ditty Oliver had swept into Brexley and would be sweeping out of it the moment Charles and Miss Yorke were engaged. Ditty would be gone by March at the very latest. It was foolish to think he could befriend her now.
Except he couldn’t deny what he was feeling. A warmth, an affection, a curiosity unmatched. And that was friendship, was it not?
‘I just think there’s more to a proposal than planning,’ he said aloud, heat blossoming across his chest as he said so. Thank goodness his high collar hid the colour.
Ditty shrugged. ‘Perhaps. But I think you must plan these things, you can’t just expect everything to perfectly fall into place.’
‘You don’t think there’s any room for spontaneity?’
Henry chuckled as he watched Ditty’s nose wrinkle immediately, as though the peach parfait was poisoned.
‘Spontaneity?’
‘It’s not a disease, you know,’ he teased. ‘It’s not catching.’
‘Perhaps not, but I certainly wouldn’t want it to spread!’ Ditty said with a wide smile.
And that was when Henry’s chest lurched.
No. No, don’t be so stupid as to think yourself fall—
‘Come with me,’ he said quietly.
He didn’t know what made him do it. Something foolish, something deep within him that hadn’t been let out for years. Something he should fight, but it was far more fun to let it out and free, just for a moment. Just for today.
‘Why?’ Ditty said warily, looking up as he stood, wiping the spoon and popping it into his pocket.
Henry outstretched a hand. ‘Come on.’
‘I have a proposal to plan!’ Ditty protested, looking at her notebook and, Henry noticed, longingly at the fresh bowl of parfait. ‘I have to speak to someone who can build—’
‘I said, come with me.’
Henry waited, his heart beating far more frantically than he would have expected. Why did it matter so much whether she took his hand? Why did he care if she came with him or not?
Why was warmth spreading across his chest as she started scooping up her notebook?
‘I could do with a breath of fresh air, I suppose,’ Ditty said, stuffing the notebook into her reticule after shrugging on her pelisse. ‘All that parfait. I really shouldn’t have—’
‘You would have hurt Reg’s feelings if you hadn’t,’ Henry said with a heavy sigh. ‘Trust me, I know. Come on.’
‘But I must—’
‘Must nothing!’ Henry said, grabbing her hand with his and pulling her out of the restaurant. ‘Reg will understand, you’re a busy woman. We’re being spontaneous!’
He could barely breathe as he pulled Ditty down King’s Street. Passers-by gawped as they ran down the street until they turned down a lane, and he did not stop running nor pulling her until they’d left the two rows of houses behind and started along the path into Brexley Forest.
‘There,’ Henry said, panting slightly as he let go of Ditty’s hand.
When had he taken her hand? He could hardly remember. All he could think about now was how his fingers still tingled with the contact, even through his winter gloves.
‘You…we shouldn’t… I need to…’ Ditty wheezed, putting her hands on her knees and doubling over as she tried to catch her breath.
Henry grinned. It was rather nice to see Ditty out of her comfort zone. ‘There isn’t anything you can’t do later.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ Ditty said with a mischievous look as she straightened up. ‘I think Reg probably wanted paying for my lunch.’
Her laughter echoed around the otherwise silent woodland. ‘But, I’m sure he’ll understand—it’s not like I’m going anywhere soon.’
‘No, I guess not,’ said Henry quietly. ‘Not for another two weeks.’
Silence fell between them, just for a moment. He tried not to notice her flushed cheeks, bright eyes, the way she stood feet apart, as though she were an explorer adventuring into a new land.
Perhaps she was. When had Ditty last been spontaneous? Henry wondered. Months. Years?
‘This place is beautiful,’ she said softly, looking around them.
Henry mirrored her, his shoulders relaxing as he did so. There was something about this place.
‘It’s been here hundreds of years,’ he said, slowly starting to walk along the path. Ditty followed him, keeping to his pace. ‘Sometimes I come here to think.’
It was odd, how the admission changed things between them. Henry was unable to explain it, but sharing with Ditty that this was a special place to him somehow made the forest itself different. He had never shown it to anyone else. Not even—
Henry pushed the thought from his mind. He was not going to allow himself to think about that. About her.
‘I love old trees,’ Ditty said quietly, brushing her fingers against the bark as they passed. ‘It reminds me no matter what I do, the world will continue on, turning and growing and thriving.’
Henry glanced over but looked away as she caught his eye.
He hadn’t asked her about the newspaper articles. Not after she had thrust them into his hand and made him read them.
Still. Ditty was evidently under a huge amount of pressure if she had to prove herself to these Londoners, Henry thought as their footsteps crunched along the remnants of the winter snow.
No wonder she was so determined to get this silly proposal for Charles perfect.
‘It is so beautiful here.’ Ditty’s voice broke the silence as she coloured. ‘Though I can’t think when you would have time to come here. I would imagine looking after Mavis and Avril is an absolute dream.’
Henry chuckled. ‘Oh, they are—but just multiply their mischief by about thirty, and you have the total residents in the Lodge. That’s an awful lot of squabbling from those rascals. You know, I had to ban them from coming out here.’
‘Here? Why?’
‘Too dangerous,’ Henry said with a heavy sigh. ‘Oh, it’s fine in the summer. Most of them grew up here, they know the forest better than I do. But in the winter it can be treacherous. It’s best not to go out alone.’
‘I find most things are better if you attempt them alone,’ Ditty mused. ‘Oh, look at that!’
The path had curved around and up a hill, and came out with a spectacular view that always caught Henry’s breath.
‘You wait until you come here in the autumn,’ he murmured, standing still as they overlooked the picturesque scene. ‘It’s quite the picture.’
They stood there for a moment, both basking in the wonder of nature.
And then words slipped from Henry’s lips he most certainly had not intended. ‘You know, if I was ever to propose matrimony again, it would be here.’
The instant the last syllable was spoken, he knew he had made a terrible mistake.
Ditty’s head turned. ‘Did you say—’
‘No,’ said Henry automatically.
But she was no fool, her eyes widening. ‘You did, didn’t you?’
The tension he had half expected in his lungs did not appear, but that did not make Henry’s breathing any easier. ‘It’s—it is a part of my life before—it does not matter.’
It was quite alarming to discover that there was truth in his words. It did not matter. How many months had Henry spent wishing things had been different…and now, he could not recall the last time he had wished for Georgiana to be his duchess by his side.
Not since…well, since Miss Aphrodite Oliver had arrived in Brexley.
She was still looking at him curiously. ‘Your Grace, Henry, precisely what occurred when—’
‘We’d better get back and pay that bill of yours, or Reg will be storming up to the Lodge for my head,’ Henry said cheerfully, forcing down the panic rising in his throat. ‘Come on, it’s easier on the way back.’