It's In His Kiss

other’s company, at least until we finish with the diary. If my family thinks there might be a church at the end of the journey, they are far less likely to quibble.”

He appeared to consider that. To Hyacinth’s surprise, however, he didn’t speak, which meant that she had to.

“The truth is,” she said, trying to sound very offhand and unconcerned, “they’re mad to get me off their hands.”

“I don’t think you’re being fair to your family,” he said softly.

Hyacinth’s lips parted with astonishment. There was an edge to his voice, something serious and unexpected. “Oh,” she said, blinking as she tried to come up with a suitable comment. “Well…”

He turned, and there was a strange, intense light in his eyes as he said, “You’re quite lucky to have them.”

She felt suddenly uncomfortable. Gareth was looking at her with such intensity-it was as if the world were dropping away around them, and they were only in Hyde Park for heaven’s sake, talking about her family…

“Well, yes,” she finally said.

When Gareth spoke, his tone was sharp. “They only love you and want what’s best for you.”

“Are you saying you’re what’s best for me?” Hyacinth teased. Because she had to tease. She didn’t know how else to react to his strange mood. Anything else would reveal too much.

And maybe her joke would force him to reveal something instead.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he said hotly.

Hyacinth stepped back. “I’m sorry,” she said, bewildered by his reaction.

But he wasn’t done. He looked at her squarely, his eyes flashing with something she’d never seen there before. “You should count your blessings that you come from a large and loving family.”

“I do. I-”

“Do you have any idea how many people I have in this world?” he cut in. He moved forward, closing in on her until he was uncomfortably close. “Do you?” he demanded. “One. Just one,” he said, not waiting for her reply. “My grandmother. And I would lay down my life for her.”

Hyacinth had never seen this sort of passion in him, hadn’t even dreamed he possessed it. He was normally so calm, so unflappable. Even that night at Bridgerton House, when he’d been upset by his encounter with his father, there had still been a certain air of levity about him. And then she realized what it was about him, what had set him apart…He was never quite serious.

Until now.

She couldn’t tear her eyes from his face, even as he turned away, leaving her only his profile. He was staring at some distant spot on the horizon, some tree or some bush that he probably couldn’t even identify.

“Do you know what it means to be alone?” he asked softly, still not looking at her. “Not for an hour, not for an evening, but just to know, to absolutely know that in a few years, you will have no one.”

She opened her mouth to say no, of course not, but then she realized that there had been no question mark at the end of his statement.

She waited, because she did not know what to say. And then because she recognized that if she said something, if she tried to imply that she did understand, the moment would be lost, and she would never know what he’d been thinking.

And as she stood there, staring at his face as he lost himself in his thoughts, she realized that she desperately wanted to know what he was thinking.

“Mr. St. Clair?” she finally whispered, after a full minute had ticked away. “Gareth?”

She saw his lips move before she heard his voice. One corner tilted up in a mocking smile, and she had the strangest sense that he’d accepted his own bad luck, that he was ready to embrace it and revel in it, because if he tried to smash it, he was simply going to have his heart broken.

“I would give the world to have one more person for whom I would lay down my life,” he said.

And then Hyacinth realized that some things did come in a flash. And there were some things one simply knew without possessing the ability to explain them.

Because in that moment she knew that she was going to marry this man.

No one else would do.

Gareth St. Clair knew what was important. He was funny, he was dry, he could be arrogantly mocking, but he knew what was important.

And Hyacinth had never realized before just how important that was to her.

Her lips parted as she watched him. She wanted to say something, to do something. She’d finally realized just what it was she wanted in life, and it felt like she ought to leap in with both feet, work toward her goal and make sure she got it.

But she was frozen, speechless as she gazed at his profile. There was something in the way he was holding his jaw. He looked bleak, haunted. And Hyacinth had the most overpowering impulse to reach out and touch him, to let her fingers brush against his cheek, to smooth his hair where the dark blond strands of his queue rested against the collar of his coat.

But she didn’t. She wasn’t that courageous.

He turned suddenly, his eyes meeting hers with enough force and clarity to take her breath away. And she had the oddest sense that she was only just now seeing the man beneath the surface.

“Shall we return?” he asked, and his voice was light and disappointingly back to normal.

Whatever had happened between them, it had passed.

“Of course,” Hyacinth said. Now wasn’t the time to press him. “When do you wish to return to Clair…” Her words trailed off. Gareth had stiffened, and his eyes were focused sharply over her shoulder.

Hyacinth turned around to see what had grabbed his attention.

Her breath caught. His father was walking down the path, coming straight toward them.

She looked quickly around. They were on the less fashionable side of the park, and as such, it wasn’t terribly crowded. She could see a few members of the ton across the clearing, but none was close enough to overhear a conversation, provided that Gareth and his father were able to remain civil.

Hyacinth looked again from one St. Clair gentleman to the other, and she realized that she had never seen them together before.

Half of her wanted to pull Gareth to the side and avoid a scene, and half was dying of curiosity. If they stayed put, and she was finally able to witness their interaction, she might finally learn the cause of their estrangement.

But it wasn’t up to her. It had to be Gareth’s decision. “Do you want to go?” she asked him, keeping her voice low.

His lips parted slowly as his chin rose a fraction of an inch. “No,” he said, his voice strangely contemplative. “It’s a public park.”

Hyacinth looked from Gareth to his father and back, her head bobbing, she was sure, like a badly wielded tennis ball. “Are you certain?” she asked, but he didn’t hear her. She didn’t think he would have heard a cannon going off right by his ear, so focused was he on the man ambling too casually toward them.

“Father,” Gareth said, giving him an oily smile. “How pleasant to see you.”

A look of revulsion passed across Lord St. Clair’s face before he suppressed it. “Gareth,” he said, his voice even, correct, and in Hyacinth’s opinion, utterly bloodless. “How…odd…to see you here with Miss Bridgerton.”

Hyacinth’s head jerked with surprise. He had said her name too deliberately. She hadn’t expected to be drawn into their war, but it seemed that somehow it had already happened.

“Have you met my father?” Gareth drawled, directing the question to her even as his eyes did not leave the baron’s face.

“We have been introduced,” Hyacinth replied.

“Indeed,” Lord St. Clair said, taking her hand and bending over to kiss her gloved knuckles. “You are always charming, Miss Bridgerton.”

Which was enough to prove to Hyacinth that they were definitely talking about something else, because she knew she wasn’t always charming.

“Do you enjoy my son’s company?” Lord St. Clair asked her, and Hyacinth noticed that once again, someone was asking her a question without actually looking at her.