She was already nodding when she remembered. “Mama wanted to discuss this Season’s schedule. She will be awake soon—”
“Then we must be away right now.” He lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Doesn’t that make sense?”
Nothing with him ever made sense. She felt as if she were always leaping and rushing to match him. Normally she became annoyed with the slow plod of other people’s thoughts, but not his. His mind was quick, and she found it exhilarating to match him even when she had to slow him down.
“I shall change my shoes and be down in a flash.”
He nodded. “And I shall help put the kitchen back to rights while I wait.”
He would? Truly? “That is kind of you.” She might have said more, but Webster was already between them as she shooed Gwen forward.
“You will need a wrap too,” the woman said, and Gwen was forced to step quickly or be run over by her own maid on her way to yet another walk with Lord Sayres. The first had been through Vauxhall while he and Aunt Isabelle jockeyed for her attention. The second had led them to the dressmakers and her very first good kiss. She hardly dared wonder what would happen on this third excursion with him. And yet, she was very excited to find out.
Chapter Thirteen
Jackson moved quicklyas he helped reset the kitchen. But even as he took his leave of Mr. Callatos, his mind remained on Lady Gwen and his very important deduction about her.
She did not like to be rushed.
Whereas most women in Jackson’s circle preferred to be swept away, Lady Gwen liked to think about her words before she spoke. She didn’t accept invitations without coming up with at least one way it would fail. And for the important things, she had at least a dozen objections.
He assumed that was the reason for her current statement that their business scheme would not work. It would be his job to soothe her fears and make sure things proceeded apace. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. By the time he made it to the front hallway, she was already pulling on her bonnet.
“Mama was calling for her morning chocolate. We had best be off if we want to avoid her.”
He nodded and extended his arm to her. With any other woman, he would have clasped her hand and drew her forward instead of waiting for her to set her fingertips along his forearm. But that was the other thing he needed to remember.
She didn’t like to be touched. At least not without warning.
That was unfortunate because he did love touching her. He loved the way her body started out tense but eventually relaxed as long as he was patient. He felt a heady rush whenever a woman gave her trust, and Lady Gwen let him experience that over and over. Which made him wonder, just what had happened to make her so prickly?
“The park is this way,” she said as she gratified him by entwining her arm with his. It was a casual pose and one that he suspected was not given to many. They walked in silence a moment, but then she must have become self-conscious because she started to pull away from him.
“I need to tell you—” she began, but then stopped when he gripped her hand to prevent her from leaving his side. They both wore gloves, so it was not nearly as intimate as their waltz, but for now, he found himself loath to release her.
“Whatever it is, I am confident we can overcome it.”
“No, we can’t!” she huffed. “You cannot order flowers to grow when it is not the right season.”
He turned and frowned at her. She sounded extremely irritated and he could not fathom why. “I think you need to explain.”
She nodded. “I feel incredibly stupid for not thinking of it earlier, but I was so startled yesterday. I thought you already knew, but then you began ordering gowns for this Season.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Your flowers will all be gone in three weeks. They won’t grow again until next spring. We cannot cover me in blooms that won’t appear until next year.”
He nodded because he already knew this. “We will cover you in some blooms and then take orders for next year.”
She frowned at him. “I don’t understand.”
“Did you think me so stupid as to rush forward without even knowing when the blooms will be available?”
He could tell from her expression that she did.
“My mother adored daffodils. All through my childhood I sat with her at the window talking about when the snow would melt. We cheered as every tiny leaf broke through the cold ground. And we made bets on when this flower or that might bloom. I know we will have blossoms for only a couple more weeks at most.”
“Then why are you rushing to change my gowns? To fashion vase pins for—”
“If we hurry, I think we can have you outfitted for the Cordington Ball.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I hate their ball. She is nearly blind, and he is a pinchpenny, so they skimp on candles. Last time I attended I couldn’t read my dance card because it was so dark.”