Page 32 of Teach a Rogue New Tricks
Likely much too long.
She jogged to catch up with her family. When she reached her father’s side, he looked at her with careful eyes.
“Where have you been, Ada my girl?”
Ah. Hmm. “I had a pebble in my shoe. I stopped to free it.”
He grunted. “Better now?”
“Very much better.” Though there had been no pebble in her shoe, she had been suffering the pangs of disappointment, almost as physical in nature. After yesterday’s encounter in the garden, she’d so wanted to help Lord Albee, and he had been certain she could not. Her grand ideas for pulling him into the present and away from his dark and painful past had proved fruitless. She’d failed before she’d even begun.
Then he’d turned up. Despite his fears of exile, Lord Albee had come, and stranger than that, he’d come not so she could help him be better, but so he could help her be a little bit worse, run a little wild.
“It’s been years since I’ve seen you smile like that,” her father said. “You enjoy these animals so much? I do not see the appeal.”
“Neither do I,” she admitted. “They make me a little sad. Though their plight is not what occupies my mind.”
“Do I deserve to pry into your thoughts?” He turned his gaze away from her, toward whatever lay before them in the distance, but the gruff tone of his voice told her he cared very much what her answer would be.
Did he deserve to know her mind? Five years gone. Five years in which he had not cared to know a thing about her—her location, her daily occupations, her thoughts. Did he deserve to know all these things now? She stilled her breathing, her thoughts, and the part of her ever on the lookout for a hiding handsome rogue and listened for the answer in the sounds and feelings of her mind and body. No terribly strong emotions lurked there, nothing that screamed at her to scream at him. Perhaps she would not mind sharing her ideas with him from time to time.
But not today. She could not tell him that she’d been thinking of a man somewhere in the Tower attempting to be polite while playing hide-and-seek.
She could not control her grin.
“There it is again,” her father grumbled. “Your happiness. I’m glad you do not hide it from me even if you will not tell me what causes it.”
She threw her head back and looked at the gray sky. “I suppose, Father, that I am happy to be doing something different, to be trying something new.”
“You have an explorer’s soul. Would you like to travel one day?”
“Yes.” She gave the answer without needing to think.
“I’ll take you to Italy. Unless there’s someplace else you’d rather go. But I think I’d like to see you and your sisters on a gondola.Humph. See who falls in first.”
She laughed, and it felt like a balm to her soul. “I think I would like to be on a gondola. But not fall in. I think I would like to be in a small bookshop full of Italian love poetry.”
Her father patted her shoulder, an awkward, bear-like gesture. “And I would like you to be there. It’s settled, then. Italy after the season.”
She looked up at him, startled that he so easily would give her what she wished.
He seemed to feel her shock because he looked down at her and wrapped his large hands around her shoulders. “I have much to make up for, and I’ll make up for it however you wish me to.”
She gave him a sincere smile then pulled from his grasp. “Italy will do nicely.” And she would have an entire season to acclimate to London, to prepare to venture farther afield.
“Jackson and Gwendolyn will be here in three or so days,” her father said. “They plan to attend your aunt’s ball.”
“It will be lovely to see them again.” She felt more excitement about that than she’d lately been feeling about the ball. And the idea of Italy, of travel, excited her much more than pretty gowns under candlelight, waltzes, and dance cards ever could.
She allowed herself to sink into the idea of Italy once more. Or of France or Spain or anywhere, actually, she thought to go. For half a breath. And then Lucas stepped into her memory, and she knew there would be no Italy, no travel. Disappointment replaced delight, and she left her father’s side because her emotions had grown much too big to hide. They pressed against her chest, an uncomfortable burden.
She needed distraction from them, and by now Lord Albee would have found a hiding spot. She itched to find him, but not yet. She needed to give him time to interact with those around him, to practice being a gentleman, courteous instead of shocking. He needed time to become comfortable with the stream of people walking shoulder to shoulder so that he could feel a part of instead of separated from.
When she’d first stepped foot onto the London streets with her family, she’d felt skittish and unsure, unable to look about at anything other than the steady stream of unknown human bodies brushing past.
But since she realized that the man in the greatcoat was Lord Albee, she’d seemed to forget her fears, her hesitations. Now she saw the white walls of the Tower and heard the ravens’ caws. She certainly smelled the Thames nearby, and despite the stench, she wanted a closer look. It was so much bigger than the stream near Cavendish Manor, and in this very moment, that did not scare her. Lord Albee had brought with him more than talk of adventure and games of hide-and-seek. He’d brought her a bit of courage, too.
Chapter Ten
