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to the Ashworths.
    And then they were alone.
    “I feel completely ridiculous. I didn’t want to be a burden,” Olivia said.
    “You’re not a burden. Though”—this with a smile—“I’m not certain why you said you like to ride when you actually hate horses.”
    “It just sort of…slipped out. Lord Ashworth was speaking to me and I didn’t know what to say. But really, they’re terrifying creatures.”
    “I like them well enough.”
    “They don’t try to buck you off.”
    “That’s because they know I don’t wish them ill. They can sense your dislike.”
    “Yes,” she muttered. “So everyone keeps telling me.”
    He laughed, and they started down the hill toward Eastwold Abbey. Mr. Cross had taken both reins, and the horses were content to trail after him.
    A silence settled between them, not entirely comfortable or uncomfortable, but a mix of both. Olivia peeked to the side and found him studying her. He met her gaze boldly, unembarrassed at being caught.
    “Have you kissed Lady Sarah, too?” she asked. Then clapped her hand over her mouth with the same fervency as if she’d sworn in front of the king.
    He, wily man that he was, answered with a question. “Would that make you jealous?”
    “Of course not,” she said. A lie. Just as he’d chided her for. “Although,” she added, “I think it shows a lack of character to go around at a house party accosting debutantes.”
    “I’ve only accosted one debutante at this house party, and she seemed to enjoy the kiss as much as I did, so I don’t know if that’s the term I would use.”
    “ Oh ,” she managed. She was the only one—an easing in her chest at that news. An easing she should ignore.
    “Does it still show a lack of character,” he asked curiously, “if it’s only one?”
    “I suppose that would depend on your intentions.”
    “Ah.” His face seemed to draw shut. “Marriage, you mean?”
    “Not necessarily.” She slowed her steps, giving them more time before they reached the house. “Are you opposed to marriage?”
    “For myself, not for others.” He studied her. “What do you mean by ‘not necessarily’?”
    “It would depend on whether it was an impulsive kiss or a calculated seduction.” She looked down at her moving feet, and then she added quickly, “Not that I think you’d have any reason to seduce me. Or, indeed, any desire. Why is marriage not for you?”
    “Wait.” He held up his hand, halting her. They turned to face each other, and one of the horses snorted at the abrupt movement. “Why shouldn’t I desire you?”
    “You’re, well…you. And I’m me. No one would expect you to look twice at me.”
    “That’s the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard,” he said bluntly. “You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit.”
    She tilted her head back to peer up at him from under the brim of her riding hat. “I know that being quiet and bookish doesn’t exactly make one sought after.”
    “Being sought after and being desirable aren’t the same thing. Some people don’t know what to look for,” he said.
    He was so vehement that her head jerked back slightly. Her eyes traced the sullen set of his jaw. “What do you see when you look at me?” she asked.
    He opened his mouth. Hesitated. Then his lips curved in a wry smile. “I see an intelligent, passionate woman who’s too used to hiding what she really thinks. Although, with a mother like yours, I can’t say that I blame you.”
    “Is that sincere? Or is it like your gray to silver?”
    “It’s sincere.”
    And she believed him. She didn’t know why, but she believed him.
    “I think my sisters and I all responded to our mother in different ways. Elizabeth did her best to please her. Anne took the opposite approach and became defiant. I simply tried to stay out of view.”
    “Perhaps it’s time to stop.”
    Her lips twitched. She wanted to lean into him, seek his warmth, tilt her head to capture his kiss. He looked so earnest in