Page 34 of The Secret of Flirting
“Wouldn’t you prefer silence to this... this...” She waved her hand to indicate the major thoroughfare they’d pulled onto. “Cacophonie?”
“Not when silence hides lies.” An edge entered his voice. “In the country, with its privacy, it is too easy for brutality...” He caught himself. “For the brutality of nature to run unchecked.”
His shadowed features made her think he was no longer speaking of trees and fields, but of mankind.Humannature. She wondered if she could get him to say more. She would like to understand him better.
“We’re here,” he said, ending her chance as they drove through a massive stone arch into an enormous expanse of green that stretched as far as the eye could see.
No wonder he had laughed at her calling it “little.”
He steered the curricle onto a wide, muddy track. “This particular section of Hyde Park is called Rotten Row. The name became bastardized fromroute de Roi, since it’s used by royalty.” He shot her a bland smile. “We English always murder the French language whenever we get the chance.”
“True,” she said lightly.
“Rotten Row is where the rich and powerful of London go to see and be seen. Normally it’s quite crowded. But this isn’t the Season, and the weather isn’t particularly fine, so there aren’t as many here as usual.”
“Oh,” was all she could answer. It seemed to her to have plenty of people, even in the drizzle. Colorful carriages jockeyed for space on the muddy track, mounted riders held to the edges, and a few brave souls strolled in the grass, umbrellas held high. Apparently they wanted to “see and be seen” no matter what the weather.
But these weren’t the sort she cared about. In her experience, the rich and powerful always trampled upon the poor and the nobodies. Only too well, she remembered how thehaut tonof Dieppe had treated her when she’d begun as an actress. Their praise had come with a slice of contempt.
As she’d become more successful her circumstances had changed, which had only made her more cynical. The people who’d treated her badly before now fawned over her, though she was the same person as always. So how could she take their opinions seriously?
Hehad not changed how he saw her.He’dnever fawned. And still didn’t. It was oddly reassuring.
She gazed beyond the people in their fancy coaches to the birches and Dutch elms with their changing colors, a riot of golds and reds and oranges. “You’re right; the treesarebeautiful in autumn. Even in the rain.Especiallyin the rain, which gilds them with drops of silver. So very lovely.”
He fixed his gaze on her. “That’s all you can say? No mention of the luxurious carriages? The costly gowns? The jewels?”
Belatedly, she realized that what she’d said wasn’t very princess-like. “How can I see the costly gowns and jewels? Everyone is inside their equipages, hiding from the rain.”
A smirk crossed his lips. “And the luxurious carriages?”
She waved her hand. “I do not care about carriages.”
“I see.” He turned off the dirt track he’d called Rotten Row and onto a less crowded path. “Even mine?”
His tone was flirtatious, so she matched it. “I likeyours, of course, monsieur. It is the perfect combination of comfortable and useful.”
He stiffened. “I take it that the count told you to flatter me to ensure my cooperation in making you queen.”
Even though it was true, she bristled. “Do you not trust me to have my own opinions?”
He searched her face. “Do you? Have your own opinions, I mean?”
“Of course.”
“Then tell me what you would think of being queen of Belgium.”
That caught her off guard. She forced a smile. “I would... like it very much.”
“Would you? Why?”
“Because I am from Belgium. So I have a strong opinion of the proper position of the nation.”
“Ah. And what is that?”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“The position of Belgium. What is it?”
