“Please tell me this is not all there is tonight?”
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sp; Harry’s brows furrowed. “Would that be a problem?”
“No, but it would explain your weight loss.” She looked him over from head to chest. “You are very lean now. You used to have a bit more weight on you.”
“There is much more exercise in the country.”
“Hmm,” she muttered. Her heart pounded as she stared at Harry, wondering what he might look like without a shirt, or any other clothing. Heat inflamed her entire face. She had categorically had too much to drink. “I rather think it suits you.”
“You didn’t drink that entire glass of brandy, did you?” he asked, casting her an odd look.
Louisa chortled as she picked up her water glass. “Of sourse—course I didn’t drink it all.”
“Of course not,” he repeated with a shake of his head.
“I am sorry I ruined your time with Charlotte building a snowman today.”
“We shall do it another time.”
When she wasn’t here to ruin their time together, he must have meant. She sipped her water, hoping to clear her head. The footman removed the soup bowl and brought out the main course consisting of lamb, potatoes, and carrots. “Your cook has outdone herself tonight, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Miss Drake.”
By the time they had finished, Louisa had no idea what they had even discussed. She thought it had something to do with the crops on the estate but couldn’t be positive. Somehow, she had made it through supper without Harry realizing she was slightly inebriated.
They walked back to the salon, and he poured her a snifter of brandy. “I fear it is not as much as Charlotte would pour.”
“This is more than enough, thank you.” She took the glass from him and sipped it slowly. The room seemed to spin a little as she placed the glass on the table.
The large room seemed rather intimate with just the two of them, and the door shut for warmth and privacy. Harry sat on the brocade chair across from her. How had the man become more attractive? She decided to blame it on the beard that he still sported. She wanted to touch it, feel it against her cheek.
“Will you be staying until Twelfth Night, then?” he asked quietly.
Hearing the odd tone of his voice, she replied, “No. I should return home.”
He released a long sigh, of relief, no doubt. Now he wouldn’t be stuck with her in his home. Louisa wondered how the younger Harry would have reacted. Most likely, he would have been happy for the company and insisted she stay.
“How did you travel without telling your mother where you were going? I highly doubt she would have approved of you visiting me.”
“I suppose you could say I ran away.” She shrugged and took another sip of brandy. “I left and never told anyone where I was heading.”
“Your mother has no idea where you are or when you are returning? Good God, Louisa, she and your sisters must be sick with worry over you.”
She doubted they even missed her. The idea of remaining here sounded ideal. No mother fussing over Emma’s wedding plans. No sister telling her about the baby growing inside her. Blessed peace. Except, there was no peace with this rather odd attraction she felt for her friend. And then there was his unusual coldness toward her. It was so unlike him.
Still, returning home seemed her only option.
When she remained silent, he asked, “Are you all right, Louisa?”
“Yes, why do you ask?”
“You haven’t replied.” His molded lips turned upwards. “Have you had too much to drink tonight?”
Staring at his mouth, she realized how much she wanted to feel those lips against hers again. She had never wanted the younger Harry to kiss her, but she wanted this Harry to kiss her. And press her against the hard length of his body. This wasn’t like her in the least. She shouldn’t want a man who so obviously wanted nothing to do with her any longer.
“No, just many things on my mind.”