Page 32 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
He’d already been waiting for her.
He grinned at her, a smile that had a mix of surprise, elation, and something else so sincere that she forgot why she doubted whether she should come.
“Charlene. You came.”
“Adam,” she returned. “Curiosity won. After all, we haven’t seen each other in all this time and then you send me a rather scandalous invite to meet you here.”
“Well, I’m glad your curiosity led you here. Come.” He motioned ahead.
Well, I’m here already. So Charlene followed him.
He walked a step ahead of her, his casual stride outpacing the brisk crunch of her boots over the dried leaves. Dark tendrils of his shiny black hair curled around the edges of his collar and stuck out under his top hat, the damp morning air teasing them loose.
Charlene wished he would turn around.
She wanted to read his face.
But would that give her insight into him? This? She didn’t know. But she still wanted to inspect every line, every crinkle when he smiled.
She pulled a face at his back, wondering why he’d insisted on meeting her here in Green Park, of all places. The fog clung to the edges of the park like a half-drawn curtain, softening the world into layered shades of gray. Almost eerie. No, most certainly eerie. Dew glistened on the skeletal branches of various types of trees, their leaves littered in fiery reds and burnt orange.
And then, just as they crested a small rise, Adam stopped. “There,” he said, his mouth curving in a satisfied grin. “What do you think?”
At first, Charlene wasn’t sure what she was supposed to think. She also wished to unravel the meaning of his smile.
She stepped up beside him. In front of them, a massive pile of leaves rose from the earth like an autumnal monument. It was absurdly large, almost unbelievable. “You brought me here to see… dead leaves?” She shot him a skeptical look. Was there some symbolic meaning to this?
He turned to face her, his grin unfaltering. “Not just any leaves.” His hand swept over the scene. “These are your leaves.”
“Mine?” Charlene blinked. “How so?”
“It’s my gift to you. As a friend. You love plants.”
Was he mocking her?
“Really? Leaves?” She honestly wanted to pry his head open and have a look. She gave a snort. “Most girls are presented with emeralds or diamonds—or at the very least, a bouquet of roses. But leaves?”
“You’re not like most girls, are you?” His tone was light, teasing, but the edge of sincerity could not be mistaken.
“I’m not,” she agreed but curled her lips.
He stepped closer, and in the thin morning light, she glimpsed the expectation in his dark eyes. Like he wanted to be praised for bringing her to this spot.
“Besides,” he added. “Jewels shatter under pressure. Leaves… they are softer.”
“Are they? They are certainly crunchier.”
“Only the dead ones.”
“Come.” He led her closer to the pile, then stooped to scoop one up, holding it between two fingers before letting it flutter back to join its comrades.
“You do realize that I like plants. Leaves attached. Not leaves piled like this.”
Adam straightened, his grin sharpened by the faintest hint of detectable mischief. “Well, you’d hardly grow to love them standing there like a skeptical schoolmistress. Come closer, and I’ll show you.”
Grow to love…
Against her better judgment—or exactly in line with it, she couldn’t tell anymore—she stepped forward. The cool morning air swirled around her feet, catching the hem of her skirts as she stopped just before the riotous mound. They smelled like autumn and dirt. That she did love. The smell of soil. And for a moment, she almost forgot the absurdity of the situation.
