Thirty-Seven

She left the house and went into the sunshine, not even stopping to grab a parasol to shade her face. Freckles would probably take over her face one day, she thought ruefully, but she was in so much of a hurry to stop. The stables were some distance from the house, and he might be gone by the time she arrived.

For some reason, she wanted to see Henry again; to hear the deep, rich sound of his voice, and see the way his jade eyes rested on her with an aloof expression. One day, she mused, she would banish the aloofness from his gaze and he would tell her that he loved her.

Cassy found Henry talking to Smith, who had become the head groom. As she approached, Henry half-turned, his brow lifting. He excused himself and walked toward her with a lazy stride that made her heart catch.

"Your grace," she murmured almost shyly, aware of the interested gazes in their direction. "I thought I might see if you were in the mood for a picnic."

She'd had no idea what excuse she would use for looking fo