She smiled over her shoulder at him and he smiled back, following behind on his horse.
Seeing Lady Jocelyn was a whim he did not regret. It was a relief to know that his polite note had never been delivered to her. She still had the locket, and he’d seen the questions in her eyes, yet so far she’d asked him nothing. He wondered what she would say if he truly unburdened and told her of his illegitimacy and Phillipa’s rejection of his proposal.
Lady Jocelyn was glad to see him, but it was not the happiness of a missed lover. He doubted she even saw him as a man. Hell. How she looked at him actually reminded him of how his mother had been with the old duke. He’d never seen them kiss or even touch, never seen any passion or joy between them. He’d only seen his mother’s misery and the tears she’d thought she shed in secret.
Even so, if he ever wed Lady Jocelyn, he doubted they would have such a cold marriage. He liked her. Her fierceness he had never encountered in another woman, and her warmth was captivating. It was a pity he could not feel anything deeper for her, but at least they would have friendship, a thing many marriages lacked. Ironically, when he’d resolved to find a bride, the only requirement he’d really had was that they love each other. He scoffed. His brother may really be right. Love was an unrealistic ideal he was chasing.
“Shhh, my lord.” She smiled and pressed a finger to her lips. “You are being too noisy. We are going to scare them away.”
His eyes slid over the curve of her rump so clearly outlined in her tightly fitting breeches. He shook his head, disappointed when nothing stirred within him.
“You seem distracted today,” she remarked.
He grimaced. “I do have some unresolved issues in London. Forgive me.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked with a warm smile.
“I do not.” He smiled to remove the sting. “My visit was meant to clear my head of my troubles. Tell me of the irrigation system you want to implement here at Stone Haven.”
The restoration of her home, a topic dear to her, had the desired effect, and with dizzying animation she launched into her dreams for her home.
They dismounted and walked through the woods while chatting softly, and he cursed his mind for constantly turning to Phillipa.
Lady Jocelyn frowned at his inattentiveness. “Are you certain you do not wish to speak of your troubles, my lord?”
“Thank you for your concern, but I am certain.”
There was a rustle and she placed a finger to her lips for silence and crept steadily ahead, bow and arrow angled skillfully. He watched her as she raised her bow in perfect position and sighted the hare. But the arrow missed.
“Bloody hell!”
And she also cursed. He smiled at her scrunched face.
“I am not in fit shape today, Lord Anthony. I think we must leave hunting for another day,” she said on a laugh, tucking her bow away.
They exited the woods and swung onto their horses.
Lady Jocelyn glanced at him. “Are you here for the locket, my lord?”
He chuckled. The lady was really forthright. But why was he there? He’d only wanted to put some space between himself and Phillipa. To remain in the manor where they had made love, where he could see her beside him always, was slow torture. “No. That was not the thought that drove me here.”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly. “I see. Your distraction in London?”
The lady was perceptive, as well.
He nodded, wanting to be honest with her without divulging too much.
“Would you like me to keep the locket until you have solved whatever put such a faraway look in your eyes? Or would you like me to return it?” she asked him bluntly.
He grinned in admiration. No wilting miss, this one. “Keep the locket until I return from London. Then we will speak further about it.”
“Hmm. In that case, I think I must know about this distraction,” she drawled teasingly.
Anthony laughed at her impudence. “Not a chance.”
“Well, then. Let us race!”
Before he could respond, she urged her mount into a gallop, and welcoming the freedom of the challenge, he raced after her. Admiration filled him as she rode ahead. The lady was bold and fearless, yet so charming. He knew the woman in front of him would make him a good wife and he should commit to her. She understood her role in London’s haute monde. She had no desire to roam the continents, traipsing over the world and eating French desserts for breakfast. She did not desire total freedom. She wanted to get married.
Yet, it was only Phillipa he could see beside him, swollen with his child, reposing on the lawn reading.
Swollen with child. Bloody hell.
He almost toppled from his horse as the possibility roared through him. He drew on the reins, slowing the horse to a stop, his mind whirling. He had been so enthralled with Phillipa precautions had never entered his mind. She could even now be carrying his child.