There was a pause. “It’s not the only thing I want to do.”
The fact that she hadn’t disputed his description of the earl was telling. “What else is on your list?”
“Village council.”
She’d mentioned that before, but it still didn’t make sense in his head. She didn’t seem like a power-hungry politician. “You want to go into politics?”
“No. I want to make a difference in Bowhaven,” she said. “However, it’s such a small place that the people who run usually aren’t opposed.”
There was nothing quite like small-town politics. He could understand that. Back home, there was an informal agreement that was much the same. “So you’re waiting for an invite to run.”
“That’s about the sum of it.”
“Why haven’t you gotten an invitation? Is it because you work for the earl?” He could see that. It wasn’t like the old man went out of his way to make things easy for other people.
“No. It’s because I…” Brooke’s voice faltered. “It’s because people think I’m pushy.”
That wasn’t what she’d been about to say, but he wouldn’t press her on it, not tonight. “You are pushy,” he said, teasing her. “That’s the only reason I’m here.”
“You simply needed some extra convincing and so do they.”
“How are you going to manage that?”
“Keep coming up with revitalization ideas.”
“You never give up, do you, Lady Lemons?”
“I can’t claim that.”
The catch in her voice had him sitting up straighter in bed, leaning over so he was closer to the door. He was about to open his mouth to ask if she was all right when he thought better of it. What had she taught him the other day? Personal inquiries should be kept to a minimum. Asking why she was getting choked up definitely counted as that kind of question—but he couldn’t let the conversation end there.
“What’s your favorite color?” he asked.
“I’m not telling you,” she shot back, sounding like her usual tart self—or maybe it was just her accent.
“Why?”
“You’ll just make fun of me.”
“I’d never do that.” He would so totally do that. He couldn’t help it. He loved seeing that cool veneer of hers warm up. She was a woman who needed to be ruffled every once in a while. “Okay, I do do that, but only because I like you.”
For a few moments, the only sound was of him breathing, and he was just about to call out to her when she answered.
“Yellow.”
“How fitting for you, Lady Lemons.” Bright. Hopeful. Bold. Determined. That color totally fit her. “Sweet dreams.”
“Good night, Mr. Vane.”
He settled back in bed and finally closed his eyes. Of course, all he could see was a certain snarky Englishwoman in yellow. It was going to be another long night.
…
Sleep had become something of a tease for Brooke. She’d close her eyes and somehow she’d always end up picturing a certain heir to an earldom in only his pants. It was most unsettling. And inappropriate. And ill-advised. And utterly unavoidable.
This meant she had not been getting her usual six and a half hours a night and, therefore, the next morning had gotten talked into taking a walk with Nick into the village using the shortcut path between the estate and Bowhaven. The innocuous conversation they’d been having about the who’s who of the British peerage had unexpectedly turned to dancing.
“You do not need dance lessons,” she said with a shake of her head as they walked along the narrow path near the old church.