Page 58 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
“It’s not that difficult a question,” he said.
She looked past him, and only then did he become aware of the footsteps nearing. A couple, talking low, walked past them, took a path to the left.
“If we carry on in this direction,” she said quietly, “we’ll reach a small arched bridge that crosses a shallow fishpond. I would like to go there. I think you might find it of interest.”
He offered his arm, welcomed the feel of her gloved fingers grasping it. As they began walking along, he was half-tempted to glance back over his shoulder to ensure that Lovingdon wasn’t traipsing along behind them.
“I noticed you arrived with Mr. Alcott,” she said as though having a need to fill in the silence stretching between them, and he wondered if she weren’t quite comfortable with him. “I suppose you’re aware that the lot of you are referred to as the hellions of Havisham.”
A corner of his mouth lifted up. “We’re familiar with the term being applied to us. Although Grey isn’t the hellion he once was.”
“And you?”
He didn’t know why he felt as though she were giving him a test, but she was studying him as though his answer was of importance. “It’s quite possible that I could find myself tamed in the near future. Are you of a mind to do some taming, Miss Dodger?”
She slowly shook her head. “I wouldn’t want you tamed.”
“I’m extremely glad to hear that.”
“So where will your adventures take you next?” she asked, shifting their conversation in a different direction as though not quite comfortable with where it had been heading.
“To someplace rather boring I’m afraid. My parents’ residence in Mayfair. I’m moving there in the next few days.”
He was aware of her studying him, even though he wasn’t quite able to bring himself to meet her gaze. He wondered how she might react if she knew the state of his affairs. A woman with a head for business who was putting together information on a cattle venture in another country would no doubt consider him an idiot for his inability to make sense of numbers. On the other hand, she would be able to make sense of what he could not—if he could swallow his pride. Which he couldn’t. He’d choke on it first.
“I suppose it’s none of my business, but why weren’t you already living there?” she asked.
“I wasn’t ready to face the memories. It was the last place I saw them alive.” He did look at her then. Although there were only a few gas lamps lining the path, they provided enough light for him to see the sympathy reflected in her face. He couldn’t recall ever talking about his parents with any other lady, yet he had done it with her twice now. Something about her implied that she was a safe haven.
“Hopefully, you have some good memories there to overshadow the bad ones,” she said softly, her fingers digging into his arm as she gripped it more tightly, conveying an astonishing sense of comfort.
“Haven’t given a good deal of thought to my time there before they died.” Except for the memories that bombarded him after he crossed the threshold. They still clung to him. “Their deaths overshadowed everything else, but perhaps you’re right. Once I’ve taken up residence again, I’ll recall happier times.” But he was ready to move away from his past and back into the present. “Have you traveled, Miss Dodger?”
“When I was younger, I visited Lovingdon’s estate a few times, but as a rule, my father doesn’t like to leave London, so I never really got into the habit of traveling. I can’t imagine all the things you’ve seen.”
“I have a good many photographs. You’re welcome to see them, browse through them.” He thought he felt her fingers flinch.
“Do you only take photographs when you’re traveling?”
He almost gave her a devilish look. Was she going to play the innocent when she knew damned well the sort of photographs he took? But they were engaged in a game. He wasn’t quite certain of the rules, but he suspected that she had some. “I photograph anything that brings me pleasure.”
“Then you should like the bridge.”
They’d reached it. Barely wide enough for the two of them to step on side by side. Stopping halfway across, she removed her hand from his arm and grabbed the railing.
“I like to come here and toss bread crumbs to the fish and the swans,” she said quietly. “It’s always peaceful. All the foliage, bushes, and hedges seem to block the sounds from the city.”
He moved up until his body was almost touching hers—not quite, but almost. Caution was his ally. He didn’t want to misread the situation, her reason for guiding him to this secluded bit of the gardens. “There’s not as much light here,” he said.
“No, there’s not. I’m not sure why Lovingdon didn’t illuminate this area better.”
“I’m glad he didn’t. I like shadows.”
She turned her head slightly until she was looking at him. “They can hide a good many sins.”
“You don’t strike me as a sinner or someone who would have anything to hide.”
“At one time or another, we’re all sinners, we all have something to hide.”
