This did not seem to satisfy him, however, for no smile caught his lips and no sigh of relief came from him. Instead, he merely nodded but kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.
“What troubles you, Lord Weston?” she asked gently, slowing her steps so that she could look up into his face and caring nothing for the fact that they were, by now, surely out of sight of the carriage and of Dinah, who was seated within as she had been before. Their steps took them away from the path itself, wandering towards a few large oak trees. “Are you unwell?”
A bark of a laughter came first, with Lord Weston then sighing heavily and shaking his head.
“I am not unwell, Miss Wells,” he told her, turning to look at her and forcing her to drop her hand from his arm as they stood by a large oak tree, hiding them from the view of anyone walking by. “It is only that I am deeply confused and conflicted.”
“Oh.” She did not know what else to say to this, finding her heart aching within her as though she were the cause of his confusion.
“I was once a very proud, arrogant sort, who cared nothing for others,” Lord Weston continued, his honest words ripping his façade aside and showing the truth to her. “I was content with that life, Miss Wells. And then, I met you.” His mouth twisted into a half smile, a wry expression catching his eye. “You confused me greatly with your refusal to see me as so many other ladies did. I know I behaved terribly but you were willing to forgive me thereafter. It made me question what I knew of myself and what I have become.” He shook his head, letting out a long, pained breath. “And now that I see myself for what I am, I find that I am greatly troubled by my character.”
Merry swallowed hard, seeing the pain in his expression and finding her heart softening all the more. She had been holding a part of herself back from Lord Weston for some time, she knew, for a part of her still feared that he was not to be trusted, but as she stood here in front of him and saw his expression and heard his broken words, she let her heart go out to him. Her affection for him began to burn and change into something more, something wonderful that coursed through her veins and forced her to catch her breath. Could it be? Was it possible that there was something truly wonderous between herself and Lord Weston?
“Do you regret meeting me, Lord Weston?” she asked, unable to prevent herself from reaching out and taking his hand, squeezing his fingers gently as he looked up at her sharply. “Is that what you are trying to say?”
“No!” he exclaimed at once, moving immediately closer to her and reaching up to let his free hand run down her arm before catching her other hand. “No, Miss Wells, I do not regret a moment of our acquaintance. Do not misunderstand me. The only thing I regret is my own selfish, idiotic behavior.”
Merry swallowed hard, feeling heat rush through her before pooling in her belly, her hands now held tightly by both of his. She could not speak as her mouth went dry, looking up into Lord Weston’s face. His hazel eyes, a mixture of greens and browns, darkened just a little, his gaze growing in intensity as they stood there together.
“There is more I must say, Miss Wells,” Lord Weston continued, his voice coarse and dry as though he, too, were finding it difficult to speak, such was the intensity of this moment. “But I would have you know that there are such emotions growing within my heart that I do not know what I am to do with them.” He closed his eyes and shook his head, struggling to speak coherently. “I have never experienced anything like this before.”
“Nor I.”
The words came from her heart and ran towards Lord Weston, who opened his eyes and looked back at her in astonishment. Merry could say nothing more, sparks bouncing up her arms from where their hands were joined, her heart aching with a beautiful, extraordinary affection that she could no longer contain. Her breath shuddered out of her, as she tugged one hand from his and placed it carefully against his chest, looking up into his eyes and hearing how he caught his breath. Her future began to brighten as she held his gaze, seeing the possibilities laid out before her.
“I cannot pretend I feel nothing, Lord Weston,” she told him, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “For these last days I have found myself eager for your company. I cannot get you from my mind.”
“But I shall fail you.”
She shook her head, a smile tipping the corners of her mouth. “I know that, should I wear the dullest of gowns and tug my hair into a tight bun, you would still look at me in the same way,” she said, seeing how he closed his eyes tightly at her words. “There is an intimacy between us that I have found with no other. The way we share our hearts, the way you have opened yourself up to my prying eyes…I have no such intimacy with any other, Lord Weston. Not even with my own sisters.”
Lord Weston opened his eyes and reached up to press his hand against hers. “You are much too good for me, Miss Wells,” he whispered, his head lowering. “I should not do such a thing, but my heart will not allow me to remain unmoved.”
When his lips brushed hers, Merry had not expected such a flood of sensations to wash over her. It was light and heat and color all at once, her heart pounding furiously as he withdrew. It had only been momentary, but it had been enough to send her to the clouds in delight. Her heart was his, she knew, and if she could continue to trust him as she had allowed herself to do now, then it might be that Lord Weston could become more to her than she had ever expected.
&nb
sp; “I care for you very deeply, Miss Wells,” he told her, brushing his fingers down her cheek before taking a step back. “I pray that you will not forget my words.”
“I cannot,” she replied, wondering at the grave expression on his face. “They are seared into my mind, Lord Weston.” She smiled at him and saw, much to her relief, that he managed to smile back. “I can hardly believe that such a thing is true.” She closed her eyes and gave herself a slight shake as though, when she awoke, Lord Weston would be gone and she would awake from a dream – but he was still there, still looking at her with that gentle expression that warmed her heart all the more.
I am in love with you, I think, she thought to herself, walking to take his arm once more and return to the path. The thought brought no concern with it, no fear nor trouble. Instead, Merry felt herself overwhelmed with happiness, quite certain that, in a few days’ time, Lord Weston would seek to court her, and she would, of course, accept. Their future, then, would be settled and their happiness could continue into their shared life, lived together.
It was almost too wonderful to believe.
Chapter Thirteen
“You look terrible.”
Thomas rolled his eyes, looking at Lord Henderson with a weary gaze. “What is it that you wish to put to me now, Henderson?”
Lord Henderson chuckled, gesturing to the many guests that crowded into Thomas’s ballroom. “You are hosting a ball and, therefore, should be preening like the proud peacock you are. Instead, your eyes are heavy, and there is a grey pallor to your cheeks.” His smile began to fade as Thomas said nothing. “Goodness, there is something the matter with you. Are you unwell?”
“No, I am not unwell.”
“Then, are you dealing with the effects of drinking too much of your fine brandy last evening?” Lord Henderson asked, his voice growing concerned.
“No, indeed not,” Thomas replied, shaking his head. “There is nothing to concern you, Lord Henderson, truly.”