Page 30 of A Hint of Scandal

Chapter Fifteen

Max, acutely aware of his one-armed limitations and the task he’d set himself that day, let down the carriage step for her. “This is my brother’s outfit, I should explain. Before he was taken ill, he was a great fancier of horseflesh and a noted whip. They’re his horses, although he allows me to treat them as though they’re mine.” He was gabbling, but it was almost impossible to shut up. The void between them needed filling with words, and he seemed incapable of preventing his mouth from running away with itself. What sort of a fool would she take him for?

With a little awkwardness, he handed her into the body of the barouche. “As you may imagine, I’m limited as to what vehicles I can use nowadays.” He climbed in and settled himself beside her, not quite close enough that their legs might touch. “There’s an impressive curricle in the mews behind Westbury House which I long to take out, but I can only use it if I take a groom with me. And that’s too frustrating.” Why couldn’t he just shut up? It was as though he had some sort of death wish and wanted to draw her attention constantly to his disability. As if she wouldn’t have noticed it long ago.

She bestowed a gentle smile on him. “I’m perfectly happy with a trip out in this fine equipage, Captain. I’m not a great admirer of speed, and I believe, that once in the park, we’re confined to making a decorous progression.”

More at ease, Max managed to smile back at her, although he remained irritated with himself for behaving more like a green schoolboy than a seasoned army officer. Despite his limitations, as he’d put it, and her professed preference for sedate travel, it would have been fun to take Serafina out in the racy curricle and perhaps driven along the Great Bath Road into the not-too-distant countryside. The number of things you needed two hands for never ceased to grow.

Serafina smoothed her skirts as the estimable Badger, Julian’s coachman who was now standing in as groom and driver of the barouche, clicked his tongue at the two horses, Bella and Bonny. The carriage moved off into the as yet quiet traffic.

She drew in her breath. “I’ve never been for a carriage ride with a gentleman before.” She peeped up at him from beneath her straw bonnet, her gray eyes brimming with enjoyment. For an instant, his heart warmed at the sight of her pleasure, before the thought that offering for her just because she was convenient rose to stick in his craw. He’d professed himself prepared to do just that to the first woman who was remotely pleasing, but somehow, doing so to Serafina seemed wrong. He couldn’t quite work out why that should be. He’d think about that later.

However… for now he would have to overcome these inexplicable feelings. She was intelligent, good company, and although not pretty, pleasing to the eye. What more could he hope for in a bride? She might even be able to overlook his glaring problem. Possibly out of politeness. Yes. He would ask her today, while she was feeling grateful to him for having taken her out, and while she was away from her brother’s family. At least if she said yes, he wouldn’t have to look further for a bride.

However, she had a question for him first. “Might I ask you something, Captain?”

“Of course you may.” He swallowed, a little wary of what she might ask, due to the direction his own thoughts had taken. Small talk with young ladies did not come naturally to him. An idea dawned. “But as this is our second outing together, perhaps you would do me the honor of addressing me as Max?”

Color rose to her cheeks, rendering her suddenly almost pretty. “I would like that very much… Max. And perhaps you could in turn call me Serafina, for that is my given name, chosen for me by my dear Papa.”

Warmth suffused Max’s chest to dispel those lingering feelings of guilt, and he couldn’t help but smile, conscious of heat rising to his own cheeks. Ridiculous. However, he was a gentleman and a reply rose unbidden to his lips. “A beautiful name, and one that should be spoken aloud as often as possible… Serafina.” Her name rolled off his tongue, and he suppressed the urge to repeat it. Several times. She might be a little surprised if he did. He was a little surprised himself by that urge.

He hesitated, searching for something else to say and feeling a bit of a fool. Why were soldiers so much easier to talk to than women? “Named for the highest of angels—the seraphim. The fiery ones.” Whatever had made him think that about her? And what was more, say it out loud.

She laughed, shaking her head. “I suspect the name doesn’t really suit me. I am much more of a mouse than a fire breather, by necessity.”

The barouche turned into Oxford Street and headed towards the park. “I don’t see you as a mouse at all.” Which was true. Despite being ruled by her horrendous family, she had about her the air of one suffering in an enforced silence maintained only because she possessed such good manners and common sense.

She had to be strong to have dealt with that family all her life and emerge undaunted. Since she was a tiny child, in fact. Well, practically undaunted. A lesser woman would have buckled. A lesser woman would most likely accept his intended offer with alacrity. For a moment he hesitated, unsure of what her response would be. She wasn’t like those girls his mother had tried casting in front of him so far. She’d already told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t here in London to find a husband. But surely that had only been because she didn’t think of herself as suitable marriage material?

“You have a gentle exterior but with the strong heart of your namesake.” He’d nearly said a heart of granite, but on reflection had amended his words, as they didn’t sound a good descriptor of a lady. And he didn’t want her to jump to the conclusion that he thought her hard. Which she wasn’t. Or at least, he didn’t think she was, which was a different thing altogether. And really, he didn’t know her well at all, as yet. So what was he doing thinking of proposing to her?

She patted at a stray strand of hair, loosened by the breeze generated by the progress of the barouche, away from her face. “I like to think I’m strong. In the face of adversity, I do not give in to weakness, unless common sense suggests I should do so. I have had to bow to common sense on many occasions in my life. It is almost always wise to do so, I have found.”

“An admirable sentiment and advice you could do well to pass on to both your niece and mine. Wise words for young girls debuting in society.”

They passed a carriage bearing someone Max knew, and their exchange of nods gave him a moment to compose himself. If he was going to make her an offer, he needed to explain to her what it entailed. He glanced at Badger’s broad back, far enough away and with his attention too much taken by his horses and the other traffic to be listening. Hopefully.

“Serafina,” he began.

She turned those luminous gray eyes on him. “Yes?”

This was far worse than waiting to go into battle against the French or the Turks. “I would like to explain myself to you.”

“Do you feel a need to do so?”

He indicated his bad arm. “I do. You see before you a man who is only, in truth, half a man.”

“An arm does not make a whole half of you, surely?”

He pressed his lips together and drew in a breath. “It might just as well. There are many things I can no longer do, because all of them require the use of two arms and two hands. Being unable to perform those tasks and having always to have help for simple things like shaving makes me feel as though I’m but half a man.” The temptation to reveal to her how impotent he felt at not even being able to dress himself arose, to be discarded. Too much, too soon. She might interpret his offer as a desire for a nurse, and that was the last thing he needed. The last thing he wanted her to think. The ignominy would be too much for him.

“I can assure you, I do not see you as even three quarters of a man, but rather as a complete man.” She was smiling still, her lips forming a perfect bow. What would it be like to press his own lips to them in a kiss?

Promising.

“And yet I am here before you, unable to take your hand in mine.” As she was sitting on his right, this was true.