“Marco,” she said sharply, gravity in her tone. “Don’t.”
“Good afternoon.” Theodore joined them where they stood near the entrance.
“Hello, Lord Essex,” Lola said in greeting, but Marco remained silent.
The earl continued regardless of the insult. “I thought to have a look at the hedgerows?—”
“Lola doesn’t need a keeper,” Marco interrupted.
“I would never make that assumption,” Theodore said calmly, though there was an edge to his words.
“She doesn’t need a protector either,” Marco went on, his voice stronger than a moment before. “At least not in you.”
“Marco,” she warned. “Stop.”
Men with their arrogance and bravado. She expected Marco to thump on his chest next.
To his credit, Theodore ignored Marco’s taunting. “Lola, if you’ll show me the way.”
“She doesn’t have to obey you,” Marco continued; his eyes narrowed as he stared at the earl. “I know Lola better than anyone here at Vauxhall.”
“Marco, you need to go.” Lola stepped toward him. “This is fine. I’m only showing Lord Essex something that may have to do with the death of his friend. I’ll be out of the paths in a few minutes.”
Marco gave a sharp nod and turned to leave, but Lola knew their discussion was far from over.
Unwilling to be drawninto an argument, Theodore watched Marco walk away. The man was a matter to be settled at a later date. Now Theodore followed Lola into the pleasure paths. They walked in silence, him a few strides behind her. He couldn’t complain about the view. Her long hair swished with every step, brushing her lower back and luring his attention to her perfectly rounded bottom, the rest of her just as pleasing to the eye.
He always liked this time of day as the sun was setting and night hadn’t yet claimed the sky. When he was a child, he believed all kinds of magical things were possible as dusk fell. Wishes could be made here in the gloaming, the in-between hour, otherworldly and incandescent, as if one was caught between two realities.
“I’m sorry, Theodore.”
Her words floated back to him, forcing him to the present. “Does he always behave that way?”
Lola stopped, her silky hair wrapping around her shoulders as she turned abruptly to face him. “I suppose, in light of recent events, he worries on my behalf.”
“I mean you no harm.”
“I know that, but he doesn’t,” she said, before she pivoted and continued to follow the gravel path deeper into the close walks.
“You find your way through here well.” That knowledge bothered him for several foolish reasons.
“I come in here often,” she said, her eyes slow to meet his. “I like to be alone and think,” she said at last.
His tension eased and they started to move again. He came up beside her. “What happened this morning? You left angry.”
“Why did you bring me to your home?”
“I wanted to talk,” he answered plainly.
“Talk about what?”
“Talk about you.”
“I’m not such an intriguing subject,” she answered with a note of skepticism in her voice.
“You are to me,” he said, surprised he needed to explain.
She scoffed and her eyes flashed with some unnamed emotion. “You must be tired of the fancy ladies in the ballroom if you find me intriguing.”