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Serafina dropped a swift curtsey, too bewildered even to smile. “Mr Thornton.”

“Your mother mentioned that I might find you here.” 

“That was unusually helpful of her.”

He smiled. “I believe she hoped me to find you deep in conversation with that...” he paused, as though denying the word ‘popinjay’, “gentleman I saw scurrying away with indecorous haste.”

“A mission of mercy,” she said, and was about to explain about Miss Dunning and the army officer, when she remembered that Mr Thornton probably did not approve of gossip.

“For him, or for you?” His eyes seemed to blaze. He stepped towards her as though he did not know what he did. The trees shaded them from observation from the house and it felt as though, for a moment, he would forget propriety, would seize her hand and press it in some fit of jealousy. 

Serafina felt herself shiver.

With that, Mr Thornton appeared to remember himself. “Miss Tooting, are you cold? It can be unexpectedly damp in such places. Please, permit me to go to the house and fetch your shawl.”

She smiled and attempted not to be too disappointed at this further evidence of his good nature. “Not at all, Mr Thornton. Besides, for my immediate comfort, it would be swifter for us to return to the house together, would it not?” She hesitated before venturing, “And more pleasant, also.”

He offered her his arm, and she took it, feeling the scratchy heat of his wool jacket against her arm. How did gentlemen manage in this heat? Even as it was, her petticoat was drenched beneath her stays, and one of the more formally dressed young ladies had already had to be revived with smelling salts. 

“Miss Tooting,” he said, earnestly.

“Please, Mr Thornton. I have said enough times: when we are alone, Serafina is far preferable.”

He paused a moment, and closed his eyes, as though he were tasting her name, the way that he always did when she gave him permission to address her by it. “Serafina, then. Dare I say my Serafina?”

She lowered her lashes and affected looking away.

“I am too bold.”

Oh, don’t be such a dolt. “I would not wish you to call me that, sir, if I am to become Miss Tooting again the moment that my mother comes into earshot.”

“You tax me unkindly, Serafina.”

“And you injure me with every such barrier you erect, Mr Thornton.”
“That is not my intention, Miss Tooting.”

“Is it not? Must I remind you again, sir, that my mother remains in the house. You have no excuse. Unless my company is so very tiresome to you that you would have me gone.”

“Serafina,” and there, in that voice was a note of command that sent a bolt along her spine, beginning in the hollow at the back of her hips, travelling up to her shoulders. 

She glanced at him in shock, in anger, and in hope.

“Your pardon.” Yet the words seemed reluctant, grudging, as though he would sooner wrestle her resistance down and have her bend to him. “I should not have spoken so.”

Tempting, sweet as it might have been to fold for him, to beg his pardon and be swept away into the space of his strong, controlling arms, Serafina straightened her back and said, “No, sir. You should not.”

His eyes flashed once, cold and dangerous as a winter’s sky, but then he appeared to control himself. “You are correct. I have no such claim upon you, Miss… Serafina. Please.” He bowed, “I am your humble servant.”

“I do not ask that, sir. And again, you are mistaken. The claim you have upon me is inviolable. It is your uncertainty to which I object.”

“Your mother discourages my suit. Your father barely wishes to receive me. Serafina, my sweet Serafina, how could I lay claim to you, if there is every chance that I will lose you to another?”

But she did not yield. “I am not a thing, sir. Not a possession to be won or lost.”

“No. Of course.”

“My heart is inclined, Mr Thornton. It would take rather more than a little coldness upon my parents’ part to persuade me.”

And there, sudden, impulsive, he leaned across the space between them and pressed her lips in a kiss. Serafina flinched back, shocked at the movement, at the hard touch of his lips against her own, and at once, wild eyed, defiant, Mr Thornton pulled back from her. 

She wished that he had not, wished that she could cast herself into his arms, could lift her face up to his and feel the touch of his kiss again, to fall into him and never be released. Instead, he seemed embarrassed, began tugging at his cuffs in a distracted fashion that did not suit him. 

“Mr Thornton,” she said.

He said nothing, merely raised his fingers to his mouth, exhaled a single, shaking breath and turned his face away.

“Mr Thornton,” she insisted. “If I objected to your actions, I would have struck you with my fan. But I would advise you against doing it again unless you intend to make good on your advances.”

Now he was staring at her, his face blank of expression, “Madam,” he said, “are you alluding to…”

Oh. 

“I am alluding to a proposal of matrimony, sir!” Embarrassment at the possible construction of her words made her sound angrier than she intended. She breathed out until she was more in possession of herself. “I do not believe I could endure another such,” she paused, blushed. “...liberty, if I believed it to be my last. So, Mr Thornton,” and, although a significant part of herself wished to scurry into the undergrowth and hide there, she stared at him until he consented to meet her gaze. “What are you going to do?”

“I cannot offer you a proposal, Miss Tooting.”

“Serafina,” she insisted.

“But I came. I came directly because...” he seemed to lose all his certainty. 

It was the most natural thing in the world for her to place her hand upon his own to reassure him. His skin was cool, and white as the silk she had seen on dresses at the public balls. Her touch seemed to give him heart. 

“Serafina, I have been offered a promotion. I have been seconded to Sir L—- in the most confidential capacity. My dearest, my sweet girl, if I apply myself over the next twelve months...” He drew in a breath, his lips pale and parted, and she remembered the warmth of them against her own. “If I am able to prove myself to Sir L—, then my future is assured.”

“I am very happy for you,” she said.

“By which I mean, our future is assured.” He looked away, as though he could not bear to see her face. “If I continue to live frugally, then, on this new income, it is not unreasonable for me to hope that…” he stopped, as though unable to complete the sentence. “It would be a small establishment, at first, compared to…”

Serafina realised that her hand still lay against his. 

“Speak,” he said, “please, Serafina. Miss Tooting. Please.”

But she was able only to shake her head, as the tears coursed down her cheeks. Mr Thornton reached up a hand, as though he were about to wipe them away, but hesitated, staring into her eyes as though he too were lost.