Free Nothing but Trouble by Allegra Gray

what he’d expected, he quite liked what he saw.
    Charity knelt on the ground, pale pink skirts spread about her, while a little boy gazed at her with something like adoration. Graeme could see why. She didn’t notice him watching, so intent was she on unwinding the tangled pull-string of the boy’s toy. Her golden hair was pulled up, away from her face, but little tendrils escaped to curl prettily against the flush of her cheeks.
    Finally the string came free, and Charity looked up with a triumphant smile. The boy clapped his hands, then clutched the toy gratefully as she handed it over.
    She straightened, brushing off her skirts as the little boy ran off. She watched him go, her triumphant smile fading to one more…wistful? Interesting. What made her sad? Did she long for children of her own?
    She turned . He knew by the sudden flare of recognition, the faltering of her smile, that she had not realized he was standing there. Then the smile reappeared, more shy now.
    He gave her a warm one in return. The scene he’d just witnessed was simple, just a brief moment, yet it did a measure to ease his doubt over whether Charity Medford could be a suitable wife and mother. She was here, at a respectable ton event, indicating her eligible status. She’d shown a fondness for children, and she hadn’t seemed bothered by a bit of grass on her skirts. That was definitely good, since his home in Scotland boasted far more in the way of grass and dirt than ballrooms and salons. The ballroom, in fact, hadn’t been used in years, unless you counted the games of hide and seek with Nathan.
    But while the domestic scene he’d observed answered some questions, it raised others—such as why the young beauty shunned the company of the guests closer to her own age . And yet, she seemed happy enough to see him. With that realization came relief. He hadn’t known quite how she would react. There were a good many things he didn’t know about her yet. Her face was no longer hidden by veils, but she remained a mystery.
    “Tell me,” he asked as he drew close, “why the prettiest lass at the picnic is off by her lonesome?”
    “I’m not alone,” she protested. “I like the children.”
    “I see .” Good. He wanted her to like children. But he didn’t think she’d given him the full truth in her answer. He waited.
    Finally, she tilted her head in acknowledgement . “Also, I found the picnic…stifling.”
    “Aye . It must have been the conversation, unless I miss my mark, for surely you do not refer to the weather?”
    She smiled . No one could deny the weather was as good as anyone in England could wish for on a spring day. “Something like that.”
    “Speaking of conversations, I must assume your family filled you in on the remainder of ours ? After you retired the other night?”
    She flushed beautifully . Indeed, she knew what he’d said, then.
    “I realize m y announcement may have seemed premature.”
    She flushed deeper, the color blossoming not only on her cheeks, but even on the swell above her bodice . Intriguing. How far down did it extend? And how soon would he have the opportunity to find out?
    “ For all its prematurity, my statement was no less sincere. I am very much interested in marrying you. That is, if you are amenable.”
    “To …marriage?” she squeaked.
    “That is why I’ve come to London, in truth. I wish to marry. But we can begin with courtship, if you like. Though the goal remains the same.”
    “ Are you always so blunt?” she asked, rather desperately. “I am not certain how to respond.”
    Was he coming on too strong ? “I liked the way you responded the other night just fine,” he told her, keeping his voice low and husky. The art of flirtation was coming back to him.
    “My lord, I hardly think …”
    “ Don’t think, then.” All right. Too strong. He didn’t want to frighten her off. He just needed more time. Needed to know when he could see her next. “Just listen. A few of my