“Are you prone to nighttime rambles?”
She shrugged. “Only in the country. I am not so bold in London.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” Her secret, yes. But her person? Her virtue? Maybe not, because as she took his arm, his lust surged again. What things he could do to her in the moonlight. And yet, he held himself back. He was an honorable man who would not take advantage of her just because desire pounded in his veins.
“Mind the rock there,” he said as he steered her away from what looked to be a large flat stone. “It’s actually a tree root, and I bruised my toes kicking it.”
“Do you often kick stones?”
“Only when I can’t sleep.”
“Then you should be used to bruised toes.”
He chuckled, his insides settling at just being with her. He didn’t know why. She did not seem like a restful person, but then, neither was he. Their minds churned too fast. But after their heated discussions earlier, it was nice to know they could simply enjoy a moonlit walk together without poking at one another.
After a minute or so in silence, she spoke softly, her words filling the night air with the cadence of her voice. “Are you worried about our daffodils?”
He liked the way she called them “our daffodils.” It showed him she was committing to their venture. “No worries, and I am done with making plans for now.”
She blew out a breath. “Good. I confess I am tired of the discussion as well. For now.”
“So is it the moonlight that draws you outside? Or something else?”
She wrinkled her nose in the most adorable way. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “I have found myself focusing on all manner of strange things lately. It’s unsettling.”
Now he was definitely intrigued. He thought her mind was consumed by science and botany. “What strange things?” he prompted when she fell silent.
“Well,” she said slowly, “you recall that when we first met, I was in search for a husband.”
He nodded. “But you have given that up in favor of making an independent fortune.”
“Yes,” she agreed slowly. “But I have been imagining myself in five years. I have been pretending what it will be like when our flowers make enough income that my sister and I can live independently.”
He’d barely given that idea any thought. His focus had been on establishing a profitable business now. He’d planned out this year and the next. He’d certainly touched on five years and ten, but that had been in the far-off future. He had more than enough to do now.
“What is your conclusion?”
She laughed. “So very many. For example, I should need to buy a home in Lincolnshire, I think. If I am to be of continued use in our venture, then I need to supervise the growing of the flowers, the cutting and the like. We will need a steady crop.”
He liked the idea of her in his home village. “Very practical. I applaud this idea.”
“I think I could enjoy the challenge. There are several different types of daffodils. I should like to experiment with other kinds, perhaps find some other rare ones. We could sell them all.”
They had touched on this in the carriage. “I believe that is an excellent place to expand in the future.”
“Yessss,” she said slowly and without much conviction.
“You don’t sound like that appeals to you.”
“It does. I assure you, it definitely does.”
“But?” There was certainly hesitation in her voice.
She blew out a breath. “But I find myself still unsettled. That future holds everything I could want in life. Useful work, a lovely home, opportunities to further my interest in botany, but…” Her voice trailed away on a frustrated note. He echoed it. What was bothering her?
“But what? You must tell me. I cannot build a five-year plan for our business without knowing.”
She didn’t answer. They were walking into a light wood well back from the inn, and she reached up to push a branch out of the way, but she didn’t step beneath it. Instead, she looked up at the moon now revealed in the gap between the leaves.