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She didn’t think she could handle marrying someone else after believing she could spend her life with him. It would be too cruel. And his idea about living separate lives—well, strangely enough, it wasn’t at all what she wanted.
During the carriage ride to Hyde Park, she tried to make idle conversation. Perhaps that was a mistake because it wasn’t something he’d ever been particularly good at, and considering how subdued he was, any attempts petered out quickly.
As they descended from the carriage and linked arms, she decided to be blunt. Sometimes with a man like him, one had to meet him on his level, and in this case, that meant being honest in a way she usually wasn’t.
Gathering her courage, she drew in a deep breath and said, “I get the impression that something is troubling you. Is everything well?”
He glanced at her, their eyes meeting briefly before he refocused somewhere on the horizon. “It is. I’m simply unused to spending so much time in London.”
She bit her lip. That could certainly be true, but she had a feeling there was more to the story. She didn’t want to push him, though, because she didn’t think Trevor would push back. Instead, he would retreat, and then she’d have even more ground to make up.
“The city certainly can’t compare to Nunhaven,” she said eventually. “The grayness of the sky doesn’t help, although I’m pleased it’s warmed slightly from earlier.”
“It was unusually cold this morning,” he agreed.
Spotting a flower in a nearby garden, she grabbed onto the opportunity to brighten his mood. “Did you ever hear how Carl Linnaeus described Octandria Monogynia plants such as the evening primrose?”
Trevor’s head snapped around, and his jaw dropped.
Before he could say anything, she continued, “Eight men in the same bride’s chamber, with one woman.”
Red splotches appeared on Trevor’s cheeks, and he sputtered something unintelligible, then stopped walking and buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. For a moment, she wondered if she’d upset him, but then he straightened and roared with laughter.
Her heart gave a happy thump, and she beamed. Trevor wasn’t a demonstrative man, but she’d managed to make him laugh. She’d brightened his mood, and that was worth any amount of ribald plant jokes.
“Where on earth did you hear that?” he gasped, struggling to breathe between his laughs.
She shrugged lightly. “I read.”
He threw his head back, gazing up at the sky, his grin wide and incredibly charming. “Indeed you do. Your reading materials must be widely sourced. I know that society does its best to keep Linnaeus’s work away from young ladies.”
She couldn’t resist the urge to smile mischievously. “Someone always tries to keep the most interesting information out of our hands, but I have my ways.”
Finally, he got himself under control, standing normally and offering her his arm once more. “Once we’re married, you may have access to any reading material in my library, and if you want something that isn’t there, you can order it. I think it’s ridiculous for anyone to control who can read what. The world would be much improved if more people were educated.”
And that was why he would make an ideal husband, if only she could be certain of his feelings on the matter of their impending marriage.
“You have no idea what it means to me that you feel that way.” She meant the words with everything she was.
He smiled brilliantly, and her heart skipped. How had she never noticed Trevor’s handsomeness in the past?
He might not have showy looks—not the refined features that were admired by most of the ton, nor the dashing roguishness possessed by men like Mr. Blackwell—but there was a warmth about him that wrapped around her like a hug every time he was near. It far outweighed the flashy charm held in such great esteem by society.
Bessie cleared her throat, and Seraphina jerked. She’d been so absorbed in her conversation with Trevor that she’d forgotten the maid was there. “Excuse me, miss, but we’re about to have company.”
Seraphina glanced up just as a pair of women with dark hair and similar oval faces came within earshot a few yards ahead. She curtsied and donned the friendly, slightly empty expression she always wore around members of the ton whom she didn’t know well.
“Lady Bethel, Lady Anne. How wonderful to see you. Have you met my fiancé, Lord Fitzgerald?”
“I don’t believe we have,” Lady Bethel said, extending her hand.
Trevor took it, obviously confused as to what he was supposed to do with it, and awkwardly bowed. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”
“The pleasure is ours,” Lady Bethel replied. “This is my daughter, Lady Anne. Unfortunately, we mustn’t tarry. Lord Bethel is expecting us home soon.”
Seraphina could tell that her disappointment was real. Lady Bethel’s closest friend was a dreadful gossip, and she would no doubt have loved the opportunity to learn more about their betrothal.
“We’ll have to chat next time we’re at the same ball,” Seraphina said.
