Chapter Fourteen #2
Ditty smiled weakly. After so long, she could never have thought a small town would once again capture her heart.
She had fought it at first, but it had snuck up on her.
The feeling of belonging. ‘Yes, and I think it’s time the town of Brexley showed our elders just how much they are loved.
We’re nothing, after all, without each other. ’
As she said these words, her hand brushed up against his accidently. At least, it was accidental on her side. Ditty tried to push away the hope that it was purposeful from him.
Henry wouldn’t do anything silly like try to take her hand in his. He wasn’t foolish like that.
‘Well, I am very impressed,’ he said quietly. ‘And grateful. Thank you.’
* * *
Henry swallowed. He’d had to speak, it was impossible to keep this much gratitude inside. He watched Ditty smile with pleasure at his words. Not because he’d said them, but because they were a compliment.
Was he fooling himself, wishing she could be happy it was he, Henry Paisley, who was grateful to her?
‘I didn’t think you’d be here so much,’ he found himself saying.
A crease appeared between Ditty’s forehead as she halted in her tracks. ‘Would you rather I wasn’t here?’
‘No! No, not at all,’ he said hastily. He was such an idiot! ‘No, I just meant—well, with my brother’s proposal coming up—’
‘Oh, that’s almost completely planned,’ said Ditty with a smile. ‘I’ve still got to work out one problem, but I’m sure it’ll sort itself. When the time is right.’
When the time is right. Henry looked at her, standing right before him, perhaps only two feet away, and swallowed.
With each passing day, he had started to wonder whether the time would ever be right.
Right for him to try to explain what Ditty was starting to mean to him.
Right to explain that the kiss they had shared had not been a mistake, but was instead precisely what he wanted. Right to tell her how he felt.
If he could ever untangle that for himself, of course.
But whenever he thought maybe this was the right time, the words simply did not come. Nothing seemed to make sense except Ditty, and his heart fluttered, and his stomach lurched, and his fingers tingled because he wanted to take her into his arms…
He swallowed. He had never given much thought to this proposal template of hers. Charles had only mentioned it a few times, and each time, Henry had scoffed.
It did not seem so foolish now. Having a template sounded ideal.
‘You aren’t worried about it, then?’ he forced himself to say, continuing the conversation. ‘Charles’s proposal, that is?’
She chuckled as she shook her head, her hair fluttering in the light breeze. ‘No, not in the slightest. I am a proposal planner, I know what I’m doing.’
‘I didn’t say you—’
‘And besides, the only loose cannon right now is your brother himself,’ she added. ‘If he doesn’t show me his proposal speech based on my template soon, I’m going to have to march over there and demand it!’
She laughed, and Henry tried to laugh with her.
He was running out of time. A week, that was all Ditty had to spend in Brexley.
A lot could change in a week, Henry knew. But could it change enough? Could he change enough, have the bravery to say something…to ask her to stay in Brexley?
You know how well that went last time, a voice in his head reminded him. Do you really think you have anything better to offer? Except more bills?
He cleared his throat. ‘It’s a good idea. The kitchen garden.’
Ditty beamed and turned to look at the abandoned garden. ‘I think you’ll find some real treasures in that Lodge of yours, people who would love the idea of a challenge.’
His gaze flickered over her as she looked out at the kitchen garden. Once again he could see her creativity rising to the fore, her passion for planning and organisation creating ideas in her mind.
‘You could organise it.’
She turned in astonishment. ‘What did you say?’
Henry half wished he had not said anything at all, but he could not back down now. Even if he wanted to. ‘I mean, it wouldn’t take long to organise, would it? I know you’re only here for a few more days…’
And that was when his bravery ran out.
All the light in Ditty’s eyes vanished. ‘Oh. Oh, yes, I had forgotten I’ll be back in London in a week.’
She sounded almost surprised, as though she truly had forgotten, and it caused hope to rise in his chest.
Perhaps she wasn’t entirely wedded to returning to London? Perhaps, just perhaps, she could be persuaded to stay.
‘I’d better see what’s going on in there,’ Ditty said into the awkward silence.
She took a step forward to return to the hall, but then she suddenly halted.
For an instant, Henry wasn’t sure why. Then he realised his own hand had reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks.
She looked slowly at his hand on her arm. He looked at it, too. Why did this feel so special? This small intimacy, this tiny show of affection? Did she understand what he was trying to tell her, to show her?
‘Henry?’ she said, uncertainly.
He swallowed. ‘I—I just wanted to say, before we went in…’
His traitorous voice hesitated, leaving him abandoned as Ditty stood so close to him, his hand still on her arm. Was it his imagination or had her breath caught in her throat? Was her breathing short?
‘Yes?’ she whispered, looking into his eyes.
This is it, Henry tried to tell himself. This is the perfect moment to tell her. To say something, anything, about how much you admire her. How much you like her.
How you think that ‘like’ might be growing into—
‘I just wanted to say…to say how impressed I am. With what you’re doing, I mean. Here at the Lodge—in such a short amount of time. It’s impressive. I’m impressed, with you.’
He couldn’t do it. If she didn’t feel the same, he’d never recover. Not a second time.
He hastily dropped Ditty’s arm. His fingers burned where they had touched her pelisse, and it might have been nothing, but he thought she stretched her arm as though she had been similarly burned.
‘Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘I think.’
Henry tried again. ‘I really think you’re very good. At what you do, I mean. Matchmaking. Planning.’
There was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. ‘I thought you said I shouldn’t plan.’
‘Preparing, then,’ he said, returning her smile. ‘I’m impressed. With you.’
Why oh why did he have to keep saying that?
But there was something in the air. He could not describe it, even if he had the time to think with Ditty standing before him, making his knees weak and his heart sing.
Something to do with Valentine’s Day, perhaps, or the approach of spring. Something fresh, exciting, vibrant in the air that made him feel as though anything was possible. As though all he had to do was reach out and—
‘Well, what else are proposal planners good for?’ she said with a self-deprecating smile. ‘Creating romance from a formula.’
‘It’s so much more than that, and you know it,’ said Henry fiercely. ‘What you’re doing here—it’s wonderful.’
In truth, he had not quite believed her plan would be possible when she had talked him through it the first time. A huge ball with music, food, dancing, craft sale, raffle—
It was almost finished, and in a day. Ditty Oliver was a precious gift, and the fact she didn’t know it confused him greatly.
Not that he had managed to tell her with any sort of coherence.
‘Well, it’s what I’m good at. What I’m good for.’
Henry took a step forward. He knew he probably shouldn’t, knew closing the gap between them would only lead to more heartache later, but he couldn’t help it. He had to be near her.
‘You are good at so many things, you know,’ he murmured. ‘You’re good for so many things, and you…you deserve to find love yourself.’
The words had poured from his lips without any thought but Henry did not care. She had to know. Whether she realised just how deep his affections were, or whether—far more likely—she returned to London and found someone there to love her…
What mattered was that Ditty was loved.
Henry swallowed. ‘I mean it.’
‘I know you do,’ she said softly. ‘But you’re just saying that because—’
Henry held his breath. Well, this was it. He should have known being so open, so honest, would mean Ditty would realise what he was truly trying to say.
He was an open book to her, after all. Had she not worked out the secret money troubles he had managed to keep from the rest of the town for months?
‘—because I’m saving the day,’ Ditty finished, with a grin.
He laughed. It was more a sigh of relief than a laugh, but he managed to make it sound natural. Almost. ‘I suppose so! But still. Thank you.’
She leaned forward and for a moment, just a moment, he thought she was going to embrace him. A cherished moment that would have been, but instead she rested her palm on his cheek.
Henry’s chest tightened. It was such an intimate gesture, a closeness he had not shared with her before, it quite took his breath away.
His eyes met hers. And the world shifted, the ground underneath him lurched, and the world was spinning, the only thing in it staying still was Ditty.
She was looking at him in a way that made him sure they were going to—her lips were moving forward—they were going to kiss.
He couldn’t stop it even if he had wanted to, and Henry most certainly did not want to.
This time their kiss was slow, reverential, glorifying in every moment, the pressure of her lips strong on his as she returned the ardour that he poured down onto them.
Henry tugged her into his embrace and she whimpered, and the noise flared fire down his body as his manhood stiffened, ready, eager to—
‘Henry? Henry, where are you?’
He and Ditty sprang apart.
‘I’ve been looking all over for you,’ said Mavis severely, her hands thrust into her apron pocket. ‘I am entirely out of sugar and I need one of you to—’
‘Yes, I can do that,’ said Ditty hastily, stepping toward the irate baker and leaving Henry standing there. ‘What kind do you need?’
He tried to collect himself. He’d kissed Ditty. She’d kissed him in return. And yet once again there was no conversation about staying, not from her and not from him.