companion forever.”
While she waited for him to say something, anything, she surreptitiously adjusted her bodice with one hand (it was still somewhat askew from their kissing practice), nibbled on the apple, and tried not to blush at the remembrance of Harry’s kiss.
That morning Cedric’s lips had been cold as ice and he’d never opened his mouth, or hers.
The sensations she’d felt with Harry’s kissing were entirely different and…completely unsettling. In fact, she looked forward to more kissing practice. Even if it was with Harry. She would continue pretending he was Samson, of course.
Finally, Harry cleared his throat.
“Yes?” She lowered her apple, now more a core than anything else.
She knew him. He’d do something, anything, to deny her her wish. But she so wanted to go to London. She so wanted to dance! And find a husband, too, she supposed—someone who would understand her.
Harry had a solemn expression on his face, even though his lips kept twitching. “If you win the Most Delectable Companion title,” he said, “I will do my very best to locate a gentleman with serious intentions toward you. In fact, I would like nothing more than to see you settled.”
“Thank you.” She opened the door to the carriage and tossed the apple core out, then returned to a demure position and clasped her hands in her lap.
“Preferably on the Continent,” he added. “Or the far north of Scotland.”
“Very funny.”
“With someone who can… contain you.”
“Enough.” She slapped his leg, but she was too excited to give real credence to his insults. He had agreed to her terms, after all.
She grabbed a roll from the basket, and leaning back on the squabs, said, “Do your best to see that he’s handsome, Harry. And he should not be either too old or too serious—I’ve had enough of serious with Cedric.”
“But Molly—”
“Yes?”
“You do know you must be like honey to attract a bee.”
He was talking nonsense.
“I want no bee,” she said. “I want the best bachelor on the market. And you shall find him! Have you any cheese in that basket?” She rummaged through.
“In the bottom,” Harry said, then added, “I can’t do it alone. You must entice this bachelor. That’s where the honey plays a part.”
“Oh, bother with honey,” she said, topping her roll with cheese and taking a bite. “Although I am perfectly good at enticing if I have to. Look at Cedric.”
“There is Cedric,” Harry granted rather dubiously. “Tell me, how many gentlemen, all told, have brought you flowers?”
She was reluctant to answer. She was also loath to tell him that the only reason Cedric had eloped with her was because he wanted her father’s wealth to back his own digging expeditions.
So instead she ate her bread and cheese and watched a field of cows pass by her window. They swung their tails, and one cow nudged another. When Molly’s neck grew pained from twisting, she finally returned her gaze to Harry.
“No man has brought me flowers, actually,” she confessed.
Even though Cedric had had no idea he was to elope with her until she told him to, he should have brought her flowers. She hoped Harry’s lightskirt was taking her former fiancé for all he was worth.
“All the more reason for me to tutor you in the ways of men, then,” Harry said. “Because aside from a decent fortune and good name, the skills you must have to win a proper husband are actually very similar to the skills you’ll need to be an excellent mistress at the house party. Which I was about to detail for you anyway, before we started practicing our—”
“Kissing,” she interjected quickly, wishing they could do it once or twice more. But she didn’t want him to know that he was any good at it, so she supposed she would have to wait until the house party to try it again.
“Yes, well”—Harry gave a short laugh—“in either case, whether you are mistress or wife, you will have to
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