Page 108 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
Allie noticed that a couple of ladies had drawn together in gossipy whispers, and they kept darting looks toward the park entrance nearest the Albert Memorial.
She turned back to get a look at what had so caught their interest, and her heart did a little jig inside her chest.
Benedict Drake strode toward them with a bunch of flowers—dark, velvet-petaled violets—in his hand.
She blinked, not quite believing the evidence of her eyes.
He wore no hat, no gloves, but he looked remarkably dashing in an ink-black suit, a windswept overcoat, and an emerald-green waistcoat.
She hadn’t heard from him in days. Not even a note. And she’d seen nothing in the papers about the arrest of the man he’d called M or the resolution of the case that had consumed so much of his energy.
When tidying at home, she’d discovered something about the calling card Holcroft had given her. Lottie had come to her distraught. While brushing Allie’s overcoat clean, she’d discovered a stain in the satin lining of her pocket.
A crimson stain.
It had come off the calling card, and when Allie had fully washed it away, it revealed a name. Mortimer Denby. Those bits of paper—theMand theDand clock to indicatetime—finally made sense. She’d sent a note to Ben immediately, and it had been two days with no word.
Her hopeful heart still told her that now that the case was over, they could be together. But he hadn’t come. She’d begun to give up on the idea that he would.
So to see him now, striding toward them in a magnificent display of masculine appeal, made her a little giddy.
“Oh bother, who is that?” Agnes groused. “Does he know this is a ladies-only bicycle club?”
“I don’t think we can prevent men from walking through Hyde Park entirely, Agnes.” Marion shot her cousin an amused look.
“He’s not here for us,” Jo said softly.
Jo was right, of course. His gaze was entirely fixed on Allie.
As he drew closer, she felt as if she might leap out of her skin. Anticipation and yearning and hope filled her so quickly that she felt a bit dizzy.
“I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your note, but thank you for it,” he said as soon as he was close. He stopped a few steps away from her, giving her room to come to him. “I’d gotten his name out of him. The son of that poor man in Grosvenor Square, who thought he’d died five years ago.”
“You have enough to keep him from hurting anyone else?”
“I do. But I thought telling you in a note wouldn’t suffice. Besides, I have more to say and wanted to come in person.”
“Does he not see that we are conducting a meeting?” Agnes said in a not-at-all-quiet tone.
For the first time, Ben skimmed his gaze over the gathering. “I ask your patience and forgiveness, ladies. I need to speak to Miss Prince.”
“Is it important?” Agnes asked with rude frankness.
“Quite important.”
She emitted a long, weary sigh. “Very well, then.”
Allie couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s not you,” she whispered to him. “She’s like that with everyone.”
“It’s all right,” he told her with a smile. “I won’t be deterred today.”
He looked down as if just recalling he clutched a bundle of violets. “These are for you.”
“I’d hoped.” Allie took them, drew in their rich scent, and smiled. “But what is the occasion?”
He swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on hers. “First, an apology. I was...” He bent his head, then lifted it, his eyes bright. “Wrong. And I’m sorry. I gave in to fear. I let it rule me. Even my hunger for advancement was driven by fear. Of not measuring up. Not making up for what happened to George.”
Allie’s eyes welled with tears, but she refused to let them fall until he’d finished.
