Chapter 10

10

M eg clapped a hand over her mouth when his brows shot up in surprise. "I'm sorry." The words were too muffled and she dropped her hand, but she was grateful to see that he was smiling, even if he looked a little befuddled.

I cannot dance.

The way he'd said it made it sound like he was admitting to the very worst fault.

He arched one brow. "It's amusing to you that I'd make a fool of myself the moment I attempt to move in time to music, is it?"

But his tone was full of wry amusement, and it took everything in her not to burst out with a giggle.

"No, not at all, it's just…" She swallowed another wave of laughter and watched his eyes twinkle with a laugh of his own. "It's just the way you said it. You might have been admitting to something truly horrible."

She lowered her voice until it was practically a growl. "I am a murderer. I am a thief…" She paused for dramatic effect. "And I cannot dance."

He burst out with a loud laugh, his head falling back.

The maid who'd been pretending not to eavesdrop cast a startled look in their direction before glancing away.

Some of the dreadful tension that had been hovering over them ever since he'd arrived on her doorstep dissipated with his laugh. And though she tried to stop it, she found herself giggling all over again when he lifted his head and met her gaze.

"So, you see…" His voice was strained with an effort to sound serious. "It was not that I did not wish to dance with you that night."

She didn't need him to clarify which night was that night.

That night would forever haunt her memories.

She furrowed her brows as she studied him, replaying that fateful moment with this new information. "You came over and asked me to dance."

"I did."

"Because…" She drew in a sharp inhale, torn between laughter and horror. "Because everyone knows I never say yes."

He dropped his head with a sigh, and she said a prayer of thanks that he'd looked away before he could see her disappointment.

It was absurd to still be disappointed now after everything. And truly, this was a better explanation than everyone else's assumption that he'd asked her as a joke.

And yet…

She swallowed hard, focusing her gaze on her fingers. "I see."

"No, Meg, I…" He shocked her when he gently touched her chin and lifted her face.

His touch was gentle, but she couldn't have looked away if she'd tried. There was something so intimate about the way he was holding her face.

To a passerby, it must have looked as though he was about to utter something thoroughly romantic.

"I did not think." He dropped his hand and her heart dropped as well. "It was a rash decision, and I did not think through the consequences."

She held his gaze, but her earlier laughter curdled inside her at the stilted apology. Her dratted pride felt like it was being trampled under the horses' hooves. "No, I see. That is, I understand."

"Do you?"

"Of course!" Her smile felt absurdly bright. "I am well aware of my reputation. Everyone knows that I sit out dancing and it makes sense that you assumed that I would say no."

His throat worked as he swallowed. "It was cowardly of me. I only wanted to save face. My aunt and some others were commenting about how rude it was of me to avoid dancing. How I seemed too standoffish and arrogant."

He hesitated, but even though he said nothing more, she had a feeling there was a weight behind those words. A meaning. The way his eyes flickered with emotion at being seen as standoffish and arrogant…

Her brows knitted in confusion as she tried to figure it out. "I never heard that of you. If anything, everyone always goes on about how charming you are."

He let out a long exhale. "I was hardly charming that night. My actions were thoughtless. I truly am sorry, Meg. For that night, and…" He waved a hand with a grimace. "Everything after."

She pressed her lips together and then asked, "You mean for chasing me into a fountain?"

"I didn't mean to—" He stopped short when he met her gaze. And then he answered her smile with one of her own. "I didn't intend for that to happen."

"No," she agreed. "I didn't think you did."

He turned until he was facing her fully again. "I know I have no right to ask this of you, but considering all you and I have been through together in such a short amount of time, and knowing that we'll be spending more time together in the future…"

Her heart picked up its pace, and she wasn't sure if this new surge of excitement was because of the way he was leaning in closer, or in answer to his own nervous chatter.

"Yes?"

He cleared his throat and gave a short bow that nearly ended in them knocking heads. "Good afternoon," he said stiffly, his voice low and serious. "I am The Duke of Carver and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

Her smile came first, and a laugh bubbled up quickly after. She pretended to curtsy though they both remained seated. "Miss Margaret Taylor," she said. "Pleased to meet you."

Later that day, His Grace—no, Ian —was watching her so closely, Meg once again had to resist the urge to ensure she didn't have jam smeared on her cheek like a child.

He moved in closer, and despite the fact that the air was cool and there were many strangers walking past them, her skin grew flushed at his proximity. "Are you certain you're up for it?"

She nodded, a smile blooming at the utter sincerity in his gaze. "Walking helps, actually." She gestured to her left leg. "If I don't stretch often and get a moderate amount of exercise, it tends to ache."

She pressed her lips together. Had she said too much?

She'd wondered that often this afternoon. She wasn't entirely certain at what point she'd stopped treating him like a Duke and started looking at him as…

Well, not a friend , necessarily. But a peer, at the very least.

Which he wasn't. Obviously. He was a Duke. But…

But the more time they spent together, the more she felt the floodgates lifting and her thoughts kept spilling right out of her mouth.

"Interesting," he said as he held an arm out to escort her along the path that lined the river. "How old were you when you fell ill?"

"Eight." She could stop there. Perhaps she should stop there. But she didn't. "I don't recall much of it. I had a terrible fever, and most of my actual memories are lost in the nightmares that seemed just as real to me as the waking moments."

"It must have been terrifying." He kept pace beside her without making her feel like she was a burden holding him back.

"For my parents, yes. I'm sure it was. I barely knew what was happening until it was over. I was much worse then. It was years before I could stand on my own, and nearly a decade before I said yes to a dance."

She meant it as a joke, and though he looked to her quickly, he caught her smile and returned it with a low chuckle. "I shall never forgive myself for my stupidity."

"Oh, but you must. I insist."

His smile was so warm it made her belly tighten.

Her smile felt like it had taken on a life of its own. She couldn't seem to stop her lips from curving up when he looked at her like that. She also couldn't seem to stop herself from prattling on. "Do you want to know what made that moment absolutely ridiculous?"

"I would love to hear it."

She stopped to face him. "I only said yes because of a dare."

He stopped as well. "A dare?"

By the time she finished telling him about how she and her friends had taken a cue from him and his friends, and their game of dares, they were both laughing. "Well, now it all makes sense," he said. "Our game of dares have gotten us all into trouble at one point or another."

"Really?"

"Mmm. For example, there was the time my cousin dared me to sneak out in the middle of the night…"

For the remainder of their walk, Carver had her laughing at his exploits to the point that she feared she might cause a scene with all her laughter.

But every time she stopped to bend over and catch her breath, she'd straighten to find him watching her with a smile on his lips and warmth in his eyes.

By the time he handed her back up into the carriage, it was impossible to say whether this breathless sensation and the rapid beat of her heart was because of the exercise…

Or the Duke.