Chapter 28
She ought to have at least hesitated at his words, but she continued to follow him along the rocky path, curiosity piqued.
“Should I be concerned?”
He shook his head, facing away from her once again. “Not at all. I intend to be a very solicitous kidnapper.”
She picked her way around a rose bush that jutted particularly far into the path. “Oh, wonderful. And here I thought all kidnappers were bad.”
Another of his crooked grins appeared over his shoulder. “There are a select group of us that have only good intentions.”
She laughed. “How lucky I am that my kidnapper is part of that elite few.”
His chuckle echoed back to her as he reached the side of the house. In an overly dramatic fashion, he peered around the front, then turned back to her and beckoned her forward. “Hurry!” he whispered. Then he took off at a run.
Feeling strangely juvenile but also entirely elated, she picked up her skirts and followed him, sending small rocks ricocheting away from beneath her feet. He stopped at a small pony and cart that was poorly concealed halfway down the drive. She was several steps behind him and breathing heavily.
“I’d always thought that if I was kidnapped, I would be carried off, not forced to run on my own.”
“I could carry you next time, if you wish it?” His light eyes cut into hers, entirely serious as his chest rose and fell with each breath. Her already struggling lungs skipped their next breath entirely.
“There is to be a next time?” The words came out hushed. She hadn’t intended that.
“I certainly hope so. Though I suppose it all depends on how well today’s kidnapping goes.” With a flourish, he held out his hand to assist her into the low vehicle.
“Is this my cart?” she asked, looking down at the painted wheels as she sat.
“I might have coerced your servants into letting me borrow it.”
If he’d convinced Trumble, or any of them really, to allow him to borrow the cart, then there really was no need to worry. Her servants would not allow him to bring her to harm.
“Do you mind?” he asked, concern making his brow crease.
She sat back, enjoying the early morning sun. “Not at all. This is rather well-sprung for a pony cart, you know.”
“Good, we shall need it.” And flicking the reins, he set them into motion.
The lush island scenery seemed to engulf them as they drove. Beautiful trees swung overhead and colorful flowers dotted the grasses between them.
Sir Henry sat erect, directing the horse down a lane that she recognized led to the beach.
He couldn’t be . . .
Wait. What was she thinking? She hadn’t been, clearly. And now she was ambling away from her guests, off for who knows how long? She turned in her seat, looking back where they’d come.
“You just realized, didn’t you?” Sir Henry asked, not looking away from the road.
“Realized what?”
“That I’ve taken you from your responsibilities.”
“Well . . . ” Would he be upset? She did not want to disappoint him. But this was not how a hostess acted. She’d been taught better—George would have been very unhappy with her. As would her mother.
He reached a hand over, settling atop hers where it rested between them on the seat.
“Do not worry. I have it all handled. Mrs. Trumble said she would see to everyone’s meals and inform them that today is to be a day of leisure.
We will be back well before dinner, in plenty of time for you to change and plan whatever you wish to entertain after the meal.
I will even help you in the kitchens, should you wish to make something for the meal.
Though as we’ve learned, I am a better company-keeper than help. ”
Her nerves still bounced around, looking for something to alight on that she should be worried over. Had he truly thought of everything? That simply?
“You do not think it is bad of me to go off like this? When I should be seeing to everyone’s comfort?” His hand was still atop hers, adding not unpleasant warmth to her already heated hands.
“Mrs. Seymour, I do not think you could possibly do anything bad at all. Furthermore, I believe the best thing in this moment would be for you to give yourself a little grace . . . and a little break. You’ve been working too hard.”
When she did not say anything, he glanced over at her, squeezing her hand. The warmth that had settled there shot up her arm and into her heart. “If you want to return, we can.”
The breeze swirled around them, the sounds of the ocean and the phaeton all she could hear. She did not want to return. Not at all. “No. Let us see this kidnapping through to completion.”
Shockingly, though her ever-worrying mind would have anticipated otherwise, nothing bad happened in agreeing to neglect her duties for a day. It was a relief, though that word did not seem quite right.
It was a realization. A realization that she could break from expectation every now and again. Her world need not revolve around everyone else.
Sir Henry smiled wide, his eyes creasing. “Perfect.” And though he returned his attention to the road, he did not remove his hand.
Perfect. Yes. It did feel rather wonderful.
Perhaps perfection was only an ideal her mind had determined and set its course toward. Did it always have to mean accomplishing everything and performing impeccably? It was just as Martha had said. Had there been a time when she had not tried to impress or meet a standard?
Could doing so again allow her to hold onto this weightless, contented feeling?
Henry’s insides were jumping worse than the wheels of the cart as he took them on their final descent to the ocean. He may have planned out this excursion in detail, but he’d not exactly thought through the ramifications of it.
Even now, he had his hand over Mrs. Seymour’s, and his heart grew more and more attached each day.
He couldn’t help himself. Logically, he knew he could not build a relationship with her, but he also assumed that by the end of the house party, he would have accomplished his job and would be financially upright again.
And that possibility was growing dangerous to his feelings.
It had given him hope he’d not experienced for some time.
And that hope had given way to a desire to be with Mrs. Seymour. For more than just this party.
Honestly, he couldn’t think too closely on that, so he wouldn’t. But he did know that he wanted to make her happy. He didn’t like to see her as tired and worn down as she’d seemed lately, so he’d planned her a day off.
Hopefully she enjoyed it.
The horse slowed instinctively as they reached the end of the road—if the bumpy path could be called that. He pulled on the reins, halting the mare, then alighted from the cart and extended a hand to Mrs. Seymour.
She offered him a small smile in return as she took it. Once they both had their feet on the ground, she looked out past the trees obscuring the view of the ocean just beyond.
“You’ve brought me to the beach.”
It was not a question, but he felt he had to say something. “Yes.”
She swallowed, one hand coming to her chest. “Thank you. That is very kind.”
He reached to the foot of the cart, grabbing a small basket. Then he held out his other arm. “Come on then, let us see what is so captivating about this place.”
With a smile that grew as she took each step, Mrs. Seymour allowed Henry to escort her closer to the sound of waves.
It was an uneven descent, which caused her to lean rather heavily on Henry. He enjoyed her reliance on him, though he did have to cover up a stumble as being an intentional bit of footwork. When at last they’d made it down the incline, both came to a halt at the edge of the beach.
Here, the dirt and rock transitioned into nearly white sand.
Henry had never seen anything like it. The beaches he’d seen thus far had been rocky and shallow, but this one had a vast expanse of sand.
And as each gentle wave pushed onto the beach, it turned the sand darker, foaming up as it pulled its way back into the ocean.
A tendril of wind ruffled his hair and sent the ribbons on Mrs. Seymour’s bonnet up to tickle his chin.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” she said, pulling the ribbons back.
He turned to glance down at her, to assure her that it was fine, and was surprised to see how close they were standing. With her head tipped up like that, he could easily dip his own and close the distance between them.
What would kissing Mrs. Seymour be like?
Better than he could imagine, certainly.
His eyes dropped to her lips. A soft shade of red.
Perfectly bowed at the top. The slow crescendo of a wave pushing up shore seemed to coax him to do the unthinkable.
To throw caution to the wind and kiss this woman who had wormed her way into his affection in a matter of weeks despite his insistence that he could not have any romantic ventures just now.
He set his jaw, looking away with effort. This day was for Mrs. Seymour, not for him and his own desires. When asked how she’d spend a free day, she’d said nothing of spending it kissing a financially ruined and morally complicated baronet. No. She’d only wanted to sit on the beach and relax.
He clenched and unclenched his fists, stepping to the side to increase the distance between them. Something told him he’d be doing anything but relaxing today.
Clearly unaware of his thoughts, she strode to the water. Just out of reach of the lapping waves, she stopped, glanced down, then gave a little nod before pulling off her shoes. And then her stockings.
Henry had to take a long breath. And then another.
She set her shoes aside, glancing back at Henry with a bashful sort of smile. “It seems silly to be on the beach in shoes,” she said by way of explanation.
“That is understandable.”
She kept looking at him. Then, pointedly, she glanced down at his feet.