When she’d finished, she dusted her hands together and gave an endearingly pleased little nod.

The ghost of a smile grazed the corners of his lips, and he brushed his fingers along the curve of her cheek. “And here I’d thought you’d grow up to be a romantic,” he murmured.

“Oh, I am a romantic,” she insisted in that adorably matter-of-fact way that belied her assertion. “But I am also a grown woman capable of recognizing that you cannot love someone with just a glance. One has to actually speak to the person to learn of their wants and desires, and then one has to be assured the other person shares those same inclinations to know you. To be in love, you have to share the other half of one’s soul with a person.”

He opened his mouth to deliver another teasing response, but something called the words back.

Nay, not something. The lines at the corners of her strained eyes made him hesitate.

“And what of you and Exmoor?” he asked quietly, telling himself that question came only from a place of concern, because this was Little Lettie.

Only, he knew he lied to himself, and yet, his mind shied away from the reasons for those silent assurances he gave.

“What of him?” Lettie asked haltingly.

“Do you share the other half of your soul with him?” he asked, repeating the romantic words she’d just spoken.

Without hesitation, Lettie shook her head. “No,” she murmured, and then, drawing her legs up to her chest, she folded her arms about her knees and stared over the tops of them.

What accounted for the giddy rush of lightness in his chest? He’d no place feeling it, and not solely because he was a selfish bastard for not wanting to think of her bestowing her affections upon the earl.

He waited for her to say more.

Only, she didn’t.

“He’s a good enough chap,” he reluctantly added to prod her along.

“Oh, he’s very much a ‘good chap,’ but he’s not someone whom I can be myself around. He is invariably polite and kind and asks all the right questions.”

He detected the slight emphasis she placed on that particular word. “What exactly are the right questions?”

“Ones that are safe. Ones that skim the surface of a person, but never dive deeper into who one truly is.”

“Have you tried speaking with him about…” Anthony waved his hand over the papers littering the ground around them.

“My interests in scholarly matters? It is entirely too awkward, which obviously does not bode well for a future with him.”

A statement that suggested Lettie was considering a future as Exmoor’s wife anyway.