"What is it you are preoccupied with?" Richard tilted his head.
"Nothing of great concern." She dismissively waved her hand as she strolled to the edge of the terrace and looked out over the dark garden.
"Is it your illness that troubles you?" He took note of her slight intake of breath.
"I have no idea what you are referring to."
"You can't lie to me. I can see it. Among other factors, your face is lacking your normally vibrant color, and you didn't consume much."
"I didn't realize my every movement was under scrutiny," she snapped.
"It is when I have a reason to be concerned. Please tell me. Are you ill?" He lightly turned her face toward him. Her breathing stopped, and she gazed at him with longing in her eyes. As his head slowly dipped down, she removed his hand and stepped a few paces away from him. Her back was to him as she gazed out over the railing against the house, and it made him think about how they first met.
"I don't have an illness. I have simply been unable to enjoy a restful night's sleep for a few days now. The exhaustion simply is becoming uncomfortable, for I have found myself fighting sleep at the most unusual times of the day."
"Perhaps you need someone in your bed each night to tire you out."
"You may be right," she concurred, then turned to face him with a mischievous smile. "I'll have to keep an eye out for someone who could aid me with that."
Knowing she only wanted to provoke him, he refused to overreact to her words.
"Make sure to take note of all the qualities you need before making your selection," he instructed, taking a step toward her. "You must have someone with an abundance of stamina and expertise."
"He also must be handsome."
"Strength would also be a good quality." Another step.
"He must not be married either."
"Certainly not," he agreed, taking the last step, putting him within arm's length of her. "He should be available and quite ready for marriage as well."
Brianna lifted her face to his at the exact moment he leaned his down to her. Her lips were as sweet as honey, and so eager. Her hands clutched onto the lapels of his jacket as he drew his arms around to pull her closer. It had been difficult to see her each day and be denied this wonderful melding of mouths. He wanted so much more, but knowing the chances of being caught were considerable, he withdrew from her much too soon.
"Marry me." Richard's voice was gruff with passion.
"I . . . I don't know."
"Then don't think about it, just accept me. If you do, we can rush to Gretna Green, and I'll make you mine tonight." He knew it was not likely for her to agree to such a plan, but he could not refrain from asking. Painfully aware of how simple it would be to whisk her away into the night, his body buzzed with the need to act. The hope welling up inside him made him fantasize about all sorts of impossible scenarios.
"Don't be ridiculous. We could never do such a thing. If for no other reason, think of how it would rob my parents of the opportunity to host such a grand affair."
"Then don't deny them. We can have the most outlandish, extravagant event of the Season. It will be whatever you wish it to be," Richard whispered, looking deep into her eyes. "Will you marry me?"
Brianna bit her lip, staring back at him with a face full of indecision. Her hesitation brought him a relief so intense he thought he would suffocate with the force of it. She was considering his proposal instead of outright refusing him.
"I need more time," she said at last. "Considering the magnitude of the decision, can I have more time to determine my answer?"
"You may have as much as you would like." Encouraged by her consideration, but wrestling with the desire to persuade her further, he fought to restrain himself. "Allow me to escort you back to the drawing room."
As she took his arm and permitted him to return her to her parents, he worked on keeping his breathing even and calming his pounding heart. If he entered that room showing an ounce of the pleasure he felt at this moment, someone would suspect something.
Once she was safely back, Richard took his leave of them. With the strain he had experienced throughout the day, he would not be able to control himself for any length of time.
Although the day had been difficult, and he knew the next few days would be equally so, he felt as though he were invincible. Brianna was becoming more amenable to accepting him. He could not have envisioned a more perfect ending for an imperfect day.
Brianna tried to keep her eyes firmly fixed on the ground as she shrugged her shoulders further into the grey cloak. She was wearing her oldest and least fashionable garment under the cloak she borrowed from James. Although too large, the size helped to disguise her feminine form. Ashley insisted they not draw attention, but Brianna could not control her wide-eyed stare as she took in her new surroundings. How could she not be curious?
They were deep within Cheapside, and Brianna knew her mother would faint if she had any notion of her present location. This was her only opportunity to satisfy her curiosity of how the other side of society lived, and she fought with herself to keep her interested gazes to a minimum.
Although still morning, the street was dark as if constantly under shadow. Even while riding in the hackney, she felt a change in the atmosphere, alerting her when they neared their destination.
Returning her eyes to the back of Ashley's skirts, Brianna once again wondered if her friend really knew where she was going. Ashley only visited Madam Hershal a few times, and it occurred long ago. Brushing aside the excitement at the prospect of being lost, Brianna reminded herself of Ashley's confidence.
"We have almost arrived," Ashley muttered under her breath. "Remember what I told you."
"As promised, I'm not looking at anyone, or anything, for that matter."
"Good."
When they arrived at the nondescript house, Ashley knocked on the wooden door while Brianna waited behind her. Glancing around Ashley, she was disappointed by the appearance of the house. Being the home of a witch, she expected to see something unusual. This place appeared normal and certainly didn't help answer any burning questions.
The door slowly swung open, and Brianna held her breath, waiting with both anticipation and trepidation. Before them stood the most beautiful woman Brianna had ever beheld. Her hair was so golden it shone as if explaining why the sun didn't shine in this part of London, for the sun didn't stand a chance against the competition. Her skin was fair, and her face appeared to have been crafted by an artist. Everything and everyone measured beside her was put to shame.
Immediately Brianna thought they were at the wrong house. This woman had the appearance of an angel, not a witch.
"Good morning, Madam Hershal," Ashley said, forcing Brianna to tear her eyes from the vision. "I hope you don't mind our unannounced visit. We are here to seek your counsel."
"I don't mind in the least," she assured in a musical voice. "Please come in." Madam Hershal smiled warmly while waving them inside.
"Madam Hershal," Ashley began. "I'm not sure if you remember me. I'm Ashley Grant, and this is my friend Brianna Denton."
"I do remember you, my dear. Come, we can talk in the main room."
As she turned to lead them, Brianna nearly clasped her hands together in excitement. Since the exterior didn't live up to her expectations, she had high hopes for the interior. The front hallway was very long. However, due to her ignorance of this style of house, she could not say if it was standard or not.
They continued along until the hallway opened up into a large room. The pieces of furniture were so extravagant, Brianna stopped and stared. Nothing in either of her father's holdings could compare to the caliber of Madam Hershal's furnishings. The only thing stranger than their value was the fact that none of the pieces went together. They were mismatched, and Brianna could not find any correlation or reason as to why each one was selected.
"Do you like my furniture?" Madam Hershal inquired with an amused smile.
"Yes." Brianna felt embarrassed her observation was noticed. "Every piece is quite stunning. I must say, you have exquisite taste."
"Thank you." Madam Hershal lovingly stroked the back of a chair. "Although they don't share the same pattern, I see such beauty with them together as a whole."
Brianna didn't understand, but she nodded in agreement anyway. Not only would questioning her be rude, but Brianna also didn't want to incur the anger of a witch, even one who looked like an angel.
"Please have a seat," Madam Hershal offered, spreading her arms out to encompass the room.