A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(25)

“Then be a clever girl and turn away.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t. I came up here to talk privately because we need to make our stories straight. The whole village has heard of our betrothal already. Everyone’s asking me how we came to be engaged, and I don’t know what to tell them. Aren’t the men asking you the same? What have you said?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Of course. How could I forget? No one expects you to talk. You’re Corporal Taciturn. But it’s different with la—”

Shouts from the other side of the wall interrupted. “Ready, men! Three, two . . .”

Thunk. Creak. Whoosh.

Then, a few seconds later, splat.

“More sand in the counterweight,” Sir Lewis shouted to the men. “We almost have it.”

“It’s different with ladies,” Miss Taylor said, continuing where she’d left off. “You don’t understand. When a girl gets engaged, they want to know everything. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word. I can’t abide lying to them, so I’d prefer we hold to the truth. We became engaged yesterday. Our first kiss was on the way home from Hastings. We’ve—”

He held up a hand, halting her mid-sentence. “Wait. You’re telling people about the kiss?”

She blushed. “I haven’t really, not yet. But I think I must. They’re skeptical as it is. No one believes we’ve been courting. Because we haven’t been.” Her gaze dropped to the turf. “Oh, this is miserable. I should have never agreed to the idea.”

“If it’s causing you that much anguish, release me from the engagement.”

Her eyes widened. “I couldn’t do that so fast. I would look fickle, even mercenary. What kind of woman would engage herself to a man one evening, then throw him over the very next day just because her circumstances changed?”

“A great many women would do that.”

“Well, I’m not one of them.”

Thorne knew very well she wasn’t.

“The Gramercys might be my relations,” she went on. “I want them to like me—and to know me—for who I truly am. I’m not the kind of woman to marry for convenience. Unless we lie a little bit, I’ll feel dishonest.”

Thorne frowned. Was she asking him to behave like an interested suitor? He’d made concealing his attraction to her such a habit, he wasn’t sure he knew how to do the reverse.

He opened his mouth to speak, but from beyond the wall came another shout: “Ready!”

Another count: “Three, two . . .”

Another shot from the trebuchet. This time, after several seconds of silence, he heard a distant, watery splash.

“Better,” Sir Lewis called. “The force is right, but the aim is off. I need to adjust the mechanism.”

“Our stories,” Thorne said, once the men had gone quiet again. “Let’s make them matching, as you say.”

“First, what are our plans after the wedding? Supposedly you’re going to America.”

“I am going to America. So supposedly you’re coming with me.”

“Are we headed for New York? Boston?”

“Philadelphia, but only to gather supplies. I’ve a plan to claim some land in Indiana Territory.”

“Indiana Territory?” She scrunched up her face. “Indiana. That sounds very . . . primitive.”

Thorne shifted his weight. Through the lacy castle ruins, he could see the glistening, aquamarine cove and the expansive Channel beyond. Clearly the prospect of wide-open spaces didn’t appeal to her the way it called to him. He’d been planning this for some time now—his own tract of land. He’d been clinging to the idea so long, he could feel the grit under his fingernails. There’d be rich soil to till, game to hunt and trap. Ample timber for the felling.

True freedom, and the chance to make his own life.

“Where would we live?” she asked.

“I’d build a house,” he said.

“How would I continue with my music? I couldn’t give it up. Not plausibly. This is me we’re talking about. Everyone knows I’d never have agreed to marry you—or anyone—unless music was part of the bargain.”

“I’ll see that you have a pianoforte.” He had no idea how one would be transported to the middle of the woodlands, but the logistics hardly signified.

“And pupils?”

He gestured impatiently with one hand. “There’d be children, eventually.”

“I’ve tutored the daughters of dukes and lords. And now I’d be teaching frontier neighbor children?”

“No, I meant ours. Our children.”

Her eyebrows soared. A rather long time passed before she said, “Oh.”

He made no apology for the insinuation. “This is me we’re talking about. Everyone knows I wouldn’t offer marriage to you—or anyone—unless bedding were part of the bargain.”

Her cheeks colored. Thorne had a vivid, sudden vision of the two of them in a rough-hewn log cabin, tucked between a straw-tick mattress and a quilted counterpane. Nothing but heat and musk between their bodies. He’d curl his strength around her softness, keeping out the cold and howling wolves. The scent of her hair would lull him to sleep.