Never Fall for Your Fiancee

“I am glad there are no poets here with us. They would have ruined it.”

“It’s not just the poets who ruin this place. This is also Hampshire’s most sought-after spot for courting couples. Nothing spoils the digestion quicker than a pair of simpering, cooing lovebirds. Nobody wants to see that at any time—let alone breakfast.”

“True—but I am not surprised they come here. It is so very romantic.” She stared at the walls with a faraway look. “I wonder how many young men have proposed to their sweethearts here.”

“Or stolen a kiss or two?” Or more. Not that it was wise to think of anything like that with her within arm’s reach. “Another apple tart?”

She shook her head and smiled. “How many young ladies have you brought here over the years? Several, I’ll wager. Seeing as it’s the perfect spot for a seduction.”

“None.” Just her. “This is the sort of hideously romantic place young ladies get ideas in.” The sort of hideously romantic place he was getting ideas in. Some lustful. Some worryingly poetic. Decisively, he stood, hoping to swiftly banish them. “Come—I can see you are dying to explore the place.” Like a fool, he held out his hand to help her up and regretted it the second she took it, thanks to the overwhelming feeling of contentment the simple contact created.

“Surely, if one is about to embark on seduction, the setting should be nothing if not romantic?”

“There is romantic and then there is romantic.”

“There is a difference?” She let go of his hand to run her fingers lovingly over a glassless window frame, yet he could still feel her touch.

All the way down to his toes.

“Obviously … depending on the intended duration of the romance.”

“I see…” Her mouth curved knowingly. “What you mean to say, but are being much too polite and gentlemanly to say outright in case you offend my delicate female sensibilities, is ‘romance’ implies love and promises and commitment, whereas ‘romance’”—she imitated his exact tone—“is simply passion. The sort which burns quickly and just as quickly fades. I am familiar with the concept.”

As was he. He couldn’t stop thinking about the passionate Minerva who had kissed him with abandon. Bold, confident kisses …

The specter of the suitor from her past loomed, royally spoiling his good mood and making him irrationally jealous all over again.

“Ah yes—I had forgotten about the scoundrel who broke your heart.”

“My heart wasn’t broken. It was disappointed, that is all.”

Relief. Palpable and visceral. Worrying. “You didn’t love him, then?” Because Hugh suddenly needed to know.

She clambered up some ruined stairs to nowhere and took in the view beyond, denying him the right to see her expression for the absolute truth. “It was naught but a silly infatuation.”

He wanted to remain relieved but couldn’t leave it there. “But it was more than a few stolen glances across the church pews, wasn’t it?” Nor could he leave it there. “Diana implied he hurt you grievously.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “He just left, Hugh—as men do. Not that I blame him for it.” She twisted momentarily, as if to prove she was unaffected, then stared out at nothing once again. “He was barely twenty, I was just nineteen. We had been courting for less than a year and had never discussed the future, because we were both too young to settle down and too poor to seriously consider anything more than a dalliance. When an opportunity presented itself for him to take better employment elsewhere, he took it and naturally we parted ways with no hard feelings.”

He didn’t believe her.

“Naturally?” She was being too generous. “And I suppose the significance of the timing was purely coincidental?” Of their own accord, his feet followed hers up the steps. “Didn’t your father disappear when you were barely nineteen?”

He watched her shoulders stiffen again before she unconvincingly shrugged his comments off. “Taking on the responsibility of both my sisters at such a young age was an unreasonable expectation for any man—let alone a boy.” By the time she turned around, all the emotion was hidden from her face, yet she struggled to meet his gaze, focusing instead on the knotted brambles choking the ivy on the ruined wall below.

“Do not make excuses for him.” Hugh gently tipped up her chin, needing to see the truth in her eyes. Needing hers to see his were furious on her behalf at the weak coward who had deserted her in her hour of need. “If he had loved you, he would have stayed. No matter what.”

“Then he clearly didn’t love me enough, did he?” He heard the almost imperceptible note of bitterness in her tone within the flippant answer. “Despite his repeated and heartfelt declarations to the contrary.”

“If he made promises, he should have kept them.”

“What for? So we could both be miserable?” The flash of pain and acceptance cut him to the quick. She expected no better, when he knew she deserved everything and more. “Besides, where I come from, a few stolen kisses do not automatically equate to a solemn promise, and promises are like piecrusts anyway—pretty for a little while but easily broken. Nobody cares about a young lady’s reputation in Clerkenwell, and fortunately, I had the good sense not to permit him more.”