She frowned as if he’d offered her an insult. “Do you love me, Harry Thorne?”
“You know I do.”
“Then that’s the only qualification you need to be my husband.” She watched him steadily. “We’ll work the rest out.”
He smiled. “You’ll make a dashed fine wife, Sophie.”
She smiled back. “Because I sew a fine seam and I play the piano like an angel?”
“Do you? By Jove, those are useful skills if we’re left on our uppers.”
“Don’t joke, Harry,” she said.
His smile broadened, even as his heart ached at their looming separation. He’d had three days of living in gray limbo without her. A month seemed like torture. “And because you’re the bravest girl I know.”
The teasing light in her eyes dimmed. “I’ll have to be brave if I’m in Northumberland.”
He couldn’t resist kissing her. “Courage, Sophie. If we’re true to one another, nobody can part us.”
“Do you believe that? It seems too optimistic.”
“I’m a man in love. I eat optimism for breakfast.”
As he’d hoped, his silly response raised a smile. “You’re a fool.”
“I’m your fool.” With one hand under her chin, he tipped her face until he drowned in her huge blue eyes.
He desperately hoped that he deserved the trust he read there. Nobody had ever relied on him. As the youngest and most charming of the reckless Thornes, he’d never taken responsibility for anything. He swore that lack of practice in responsibility wouldn’t scuttle his plans. He intended to become the world’s best husband. If he had his way, Sophie would never suffer a moment’s unhappiness.
“Now kiss me good-bye.” He forced a smile. He wanted her to retain a memory of pleasure amidst all the turmoil. “Make it good. It needs to last me until you return.”
She rose on her toes and laced her hands around his neck. “If you put it like that.”
His brief humor dissolved to ash under her passionate assault. After a surprised hesitation, his arms lashed around her and he pressed her full-length against him. He wanted to remember her warmth and scent, and the soft sounds of her excitement.
His hands firmed on her hips and he kissed her back, telling her with his lips that he loved her and he’d miss her and the hours without her would feel like eternity. He also silently assured her that in time, they’d be together.
Eventually he raised his head, knowing that if he didn’t stop now, he wouldn’t stop until he’d lost all pretensions to honor. He pressed her against his heart, resting his chin on her head. Breathing unsteadily, he struggled for calm.
“You must go,” she said with audible regret. “If James catches us, he’ll send me further than Northumberland.”
Harry kissed her briefly. “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth.”
Disconsolately she surveyed him. “If James gets his way, you may have to.”
Chapter Sixteen
Upper Brook Street, London, late March 1828
Cam bowed as Lady Marianne Seaton entered the sunny morning room of her father’s house in Mayfair. He felt damnably awkward. He hadn’t seen her since spending Christmas at the Seaton estate in Dorset. An indication of his intentions and her family’s acceptance of those intentions, although he was yet to make a formal offer.
As Lady Marianne curtsied with her famous grace, he was startled to notice how lovely she was. God forgive him, he’d forgotten. With her widely spaced blue eyes and full lips, she looked like a Renaissance Madonna.
While he might have only a vague recollection of her appearance, Cam had remembered her air of tranquility. It was amo
ng the reasons he’d chosen her. After his chaotic upbringing, the prospect of marriage as a haven of calm was devilish appealing.
Ironic that he ended up with an independent miss who stirred turbulent currents wherever she went.