Andrew laughed.
Nicholas drew a deep breath. Emily’s appearance in town had disconcerted him a great deal; more than he’d realized. It was only now, sitting in the club, exhausted, that he realized how great an emotional burden it had placed on him. He had thought he’d forgotten all that pain—it was two years ago. But the memories were as clear as day. He reached for a slice of bread and winced at the pain as he tried to move his fingers.
“You did spend an awful lot of time hitting that thing,” Andrew reminded gently.
“I suppose.”
Nicholas ate his lunch and then returned briskly to his townhouse to dress and get ready for the trip to Hyde Park.
“I hope Grandfather’s pleased,” he muttered crossly as he stalked down the stairs to the coach. As he vaulted in and the coach jolted its way down the street, he felt his anger displaced by a feeling he could only describe as curiosity and anticipation. He wanted to see Miss Rowland again.
His thoughts drifted to her sweet face, framed with her soft brown hair. Miss Rowland seemed kind and unlikely to judge him for his scar, but then he’d only met her once, really, and this was only their second time in conversation. In the theater, it was one thing—it was darker in there and she couldn’t really see it. But in broad daylight, the sunshine streaming down onto the streets and the distant park, she would be sure to notice it.
“Stop it,” he told himself firmly. He couldn’t let himself worry about it. He had to take this walk to keep his grandfather happy.
It isn’t because of Grandfather,he mused, cheeks burning.Not really.
He knew he wanted to see her again and he couldn’t help it.
He slipped out of the coach, heart thumping nervously as he waited on the stairs outside the townhouse.
“My lord?” The butler greeted him, one brow raised.
“I’m here to escort Miss Rowland to the park,” Nicholas said briskly.
“Of course, my lord. One moment, please.”
The butler turned to lead him upstairs, but the sound of footsteps on the landing made him look up. Miss Rowland was on the stairs.
She drifted down towards him, her dress one of white figured silk that seemed a little stiff and formal compared to thepinkish dress she’d worn to the theater. She looked a little tense and shaken.
So am I,he reminded himself.
“Good afternoon, Miss Rowland,” he greeted, bowing formally. He breathed in, catching the smell of rosewater. He smiled. His heartbeat raced. She smiled back, making his breath stop for a second. She looked so beautiful, the cloudy daylight making her brown hair glow, her smile lighting her eyes.
“Good afternoon, Lord Blackburne,” she greeted softly. “How pleasant to see you.” She dropped a small curtsey.
Nicholas’ cheeks burned. “Thank you, Miss Rowland. A pleasure to see you, too.”
Her eyes widened, pure astonishment on her face, and he looked away, hiding a delighted grin. She was just as refreshing and direct as he remembered.
He took her hand and led her to the coach. She looked up at him shyly.
“It’s crowded today,” she commented as she swung up into the coach.
“It is,” he agreed, gazing down the street. Her chaperone got in next, and then he alighted and they rumbled down the street towards Hyde Park.
Nicholas leaned back, trying to relax. He gazed across at Miss Rowland. She sat straight-backed, her long hair ringletedbeside her face, her pale skin seeming to glow in the coach’s shadow. He coughed, wishing he could think of something to say.
“Do you like...” he began.
“What do you...” she asked at the same time.
He chuckled. She giggled a little nervously, her gaze holding his.
“Apologies.” He grinned, cheeks burning. “What were you going to say, Miss Rowland?”
“I interrupted,” she protested gently, then smiled. “I was going to ask what your favourite pastimes are here in London?”
