A Lady's Guide to a Gentleman's Heart by Christi Caldwell

Author:Christi Caldwell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Regency
Publisher: Christi Caldwell
Published: 2018-12-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

If a lady is to enter into the state of marriage, she would be wise to select a gentleman in possession of a sense of humor.

Mrs. Matcher

A Lady’s Guide to a Gentleman’s Heart

As Emilia resumed latching her skates, Heath considered his previous discourse with the lady.

He didn’t speak of his childhood or his late brother or… well, really, any parts of himself with anyone.

Somewhere along the way, his father and tutors had ingrained those lessons in him, until Heath had become a master at erecting barriers between himself and everyone else. Those rules had even extended to his only living brother, Graham, a brother who’d come to despise him—and rightfully so.

Here in this copse, however, Emilia Aberdeen had managed to compel Heath to speak about parts of himself he’d never shared with another soul.

What was more, she was also the only person who’d ever asked about who Heath was as a person.

To everyone else, Heath was a marquess who’d one day be duke.

The all-important heir.

He was the ducal heir who always did that which was expected of him. The world neither knew, nor cared, that he’d been snatched from the schoolroom one day by his father, and all those pleasures he’d once found in life had become forbidden. His reputation as the responsible one had only been solidified after Lawrence’s death in Heath’s bid to ease some of his parents’ heartbreak.

It felt so very good now to simply be… a man.

A man like anyone else, and not just a man with a title.

“How do I know if it is tight enough?” she asked, briefly lifting her gaze from her skates.

“If it is uncomfortable, you know you’ve fastened it enough.”

An endearing little frown puckered her brow. “Hmph. If one has to focus on pain, it takes away from some of the pleasure.”

Pushing to a stand, Heath jammed his gloves on and then held out a palm. “The more one wears skates, the more comfortable and natural-fitting they become.”

“There is nothing natural in either walking or gliding upon a narrow blade just a fraction of the width of one’s foot,” she muttered under her breath as he drew her to her feet.

“Ah, but where is that earlier enthusiasm?”

“It was replaced by sore feet,” she said, and with her palms in his, she allowed him to lead her to the edge of the shore.

As he guided her, Heath grinned. When was the last time he’d enjoyed himself like this? Ever? He stopped five paces away, and Emilia looked questioningly up at him.

“You should try for yourself, so you can have a feel for them.” Even as he didn’t want to relinquish her hands. Even as there was a natural rightness to the fit of her palms in his.

Horrified, he tried to yank his hands away. Emilia, however, retained an impressive death grip on him. He tried again.

“Why do I get the idea that you’re trying to be rid of me, Heath Whitworth?” she asked as she at last relinquished her hold on him.

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