Page 49 of Undercover Duke
Bridget looked serious. “I hope for your sake that she doesn’t.”
So did Vanessa.
The first thing to go wrong was utterly unexpected. Their butler, usually a man who accepted on its face whatever she told him, questioned her about her plan to garden.
“Her Ladyship informed us that you’re not to leave the house,” he said firmly.
“I’m not leaving the house. I’m essentially going into the back of it.”
Worry spread over his features. “Are you sure she would look at it that way?”
“I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t. Consider how I’m dressed. Wouldn’t I dress better if I were . . . I don’t know . . . sneaking out or something? I certainly wouldn’t wear this awful bonnet to do so. Which reminds me, I need the coat I usually wear when gardening.”
He looked a bit more accepting of the tale. “But why would you want to putter about in the garden inthisweather, miss?”
“Gardens don’t prune themselves, you know. And if we aren’t ‘at home’ to anyone today, I might as well ‘putter about’ in the garden.”
Good Lord, was she to be a prisoner in her home from now on?
Her agitation must have shown in her face, for he bowed. “Of course.” He flicked his hand to the footman to fetch her coat, then helped her into it.
Still, she didn’t so much as breathe until she was outside. So far so good. Rapidly she gave Bridget her coat and bonnet, then took the bonnet and shawl Bridget offered in exchange. With a whispered “Good luck, miss,” Bridget headed back into the garden. And Vanessa headed for the top of the alley where she could watch for Sheridan’s carriage.
That’s when she hit thenextsnag in her plan—one that was a bit more significant. Because no carriage came past her, even though she was careful to look in either direction.
Then she spotted him. Not Sheridan. Oh, no. Mr. Juncker. Walking from the other direction. Alone. Tears stung her eyes, which she ruthlessly wiped away. She couldn’t keep hoping like this. Every time she did, her hopes were dashed.
But Mr. Juncker had come all this way, so she might as well be polite. She walked up the sidewalk toward him, hugging the railing of the house and hoping no one inside was looking out at that moment. When Mr. Juncker saw her and started, she held her finger to her lips, then gestured across the street. With a sly smile, he took a detour into Queen Square Garden, where she joined him.
“Forgive me for my strange behavior, Mr. Juncker,” she said without preamble, “but in a fit of pique, my mother has forbidden me from accepting any calls. Since Sheridan had already said he was bringing you here today, I wanted to make sure I could tell you in person about what happened.” She hoped she sounded nonchalant when she added, “Where is Sheridan, anyway? I thought you were coming here together.”
“I thought so, too, but apparently I was wrong. We had agreed he would pick me up at my lodgings in the Albany. Then he sent a note saying he’d meet me here and gave me your direction. When I realized you were only a bit more than a mile away, I walked over. I take it he hasn’t yet arrived.”
“No. Or if he has, he was turned away.” Although she doubted that. It wouldn’t be like him to try calling on her before the designated time.
Mr. Juncker gazed around at their surroundings. “This is a pretty little park, isn’t it? I ought to stroll over here more often.”
“You should, indeed,” she said, somehow rousing herself to flirt, though she wasn’t in the mood. But if Sheridanshouldhappen along . . .
Oh, why was she even hoping for that? He probably had no intention of coming here ever again, after that nightmarish confrontation between their mothers. He’d said he would merely keep her from complaining further. But who could blame him for trying to put distance between him and her? Mama always managed to scare off the only suitors Vanessamightwant.
“You should give me a tour of the square, seeing as how you know it so well,” Mr. Juncker said, offering her his arm. “I hate to let all this loveliness go to waste.”
As she took his arm, she caught him staring at her, and his flirtatious remark hit her. Oh, Lord, she didn’t want to be doing this with no Sheridan around to see. But she couldn’t be rude. “This truly is a charming garden. I come here sometimes just to read and watch the birds. There are blackbirds, sparrows, robins, blue tits, and of course pigeons.” Heavens, but she was prattling on and on about nothing. He would think her quite the chatterbox. “What would London be without its pigeons?”
“And its beautiful ladies to watch them,” he said.
Stifling a groan, she met his provocative grin with a frown. “There’s no need to flatter me, Mr. Juncker. I know perfectly well you’re merely humoring me to help me with Sheridan.”
He shook his head, his gaze showing interest in more than just the garden. “Hardly. I’m continuing the flirtation we began at Thorn’s party the other night.”
“Even though you know I’ve set my cap for Sheridan.”
“Especiallybecause I know that. I told you before. I enjoy annoying Saint Sheridan immensely.”
“Well, he’s not here,” she pointed out. “So I’m not certain how you mean to annoy him.” Her voice grew acid. “I hope you aren’t one of those fellows who boasts of his conquests to other men despite the risk of ruining the reputation of the ladies he boasts about.”
He sobered. “I would never ruin a woman’s reputation by boasting or anything else.” His eyes gleamed at her. “But as I said at Thorncliff, lately I’ve begun to explore the idea of looking for a more respectable companion.”
