“People are forever laughing at me.”
The laughter in London is not always friendly.Suddenly, that comment made more sense. “Who has been laughing at you, Gillian, and where do I find them?”
“Do you intend to lay waste to theton?”
“If need be.”
She smiled in a way that indicated she thought he was teasing her still.
“I’m an American,” he reminded her. “We are raised to be a bit forcibly uncouth when the situation calls for it.”
“And apparently, to be not wholly terrible at dancing.”
He leaned in close—so close, in fact, that he could see the darker flecks in her uniquely gray eyes. “Enjoying it, are you?”
“More than I expected to,” she said softly. “No gentlemen ever want to dance with me.”
“I am quickly losing all respect for English gentlemen.”
She shrugged a little. “They aren’t all horrible.”
They’d stopped dancing, he having stopped humming. But she still stood very near him, their right hands clasped.
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “I am sorry so many gentlemen have proven horrible.” He tucked their clasped hands to his chest, above his heart.
“You’ve proven surprising more than anything.”
“A pleasant sort of surprising?” His voice had dropped to a whisper. Those mesmerizing eyes of hers were warm and inviting. He had the strongest suspicion he could happily spend hours gazing into them.
“Thebestsort of surprising.”
He lightly returned his arm to her waist, as he had done a few times when the movements of the waltz had warranted it. This time, he did so because he wanted to hold her, wanted to have her close.
“Perhaps while I’m at Houghton Manor,” he said, “you might walk with me around the gardens and tell me about them.”
“Would you like to?” A breathiness had entered her voice. Her eyes never left his.
“Very much, indeed.” The temptation to kiss her was strong, almost irresistible. More wonderfully shocking still, he felt all but certain she was experiencing the same sensation, the same longing.
He might have tested the waters if not for Mrs. Brownlow in the corner of his eye. She was watching them. Closely. Too closely for comfort, in fact. He was growing increasingly fond of Gillian, increasingly attached to her. But Mrs. Brownlow mightalready believe he had in some way committed himself. Kissing Gillian in the gazebo in full view of her benefactress might very well see the two of them in quite a predicament.
Reluctantly, but understanding the necessity, Scott dropped his arm away and let go of her hand. He was slower to step back than he should have been. Afraid she might take his retreat as a rejection, he smiled warmly as he motioned her back to the bench.
The conversation between them all continued. But through it all, Mrs. Brownlow studied the two of them. Her health was returning and, with it, her powers of observation.
Scott’s mind insisted he tread very lightly. But his heart cried out to hold Gillian again.
Chapter Fifteen
Scott had almost kissed her.Something in his eyes, in his expression, had told Gillian he’d wanted to, that he almost had. The realization sent shivers of anticipation through her every time she thought about it.
It wasn’t merely the novelty of a gentleman taking pleasant notice of her to the point of even considering a kiss. It was him. He was kind, thoughtful. He’d shown himself to be compassionate. He’d stayed at Houghton Manor longer than he’d expected because he cared what happened to Mrs. Brownlow. And though he had poked a little fun at Gillian by asking Mrs. Brownlow for somewhat embarrassing stories, he hadn’t laughedather as so many other people had.
Gillian liked him very much. More than liked. She was falling in love with him.
When Mrs. Brownlow had insisted she didn’t always need to be practical and logical, Gillian suspected this was not what she meant. Losing her heart to a gentleman who was staying under duress, and who, other than the near kiss, hadn’t expressed any tender feelings for her, was inadvisable, to say the least. She knew his financial situation to be difficult. She herself was a poor relation. She would have some funds when Mrs. Brownlow passed on, but thank the heavens, that was looking to be something very far into the future. Unless his situation wasn’t quite as dire as some, there was no future to be had between a penniless lady and a gentleman in need of funds.
He’d mentioned, almost as an offhand comment, that an American inheriting an English estate had raised a few eyebrows in Society. A gentleman on a shaky foundation like that could not risk tying himself to the daughter of a butler. Some things could not be overcome by all the tender feelings in the world.