“I will do my best,” she told him, watching in confused surprise as he wandered off down the main thoroughfare of the park… and looked back once, a smile upon his face.
Is it really that easy?She was astounded, her confidence positively soaring.
The only trouble was, she did not like Roger that way. Had never thought of him as a prospect. Even now, she felt nothing, not a single giddy rush or flutter in her stomach. Why, she had feltmore in Duncan’s drawing room while putting on a performance of interest than she had just now, enduring a real encounter.
“Who was that?” Beatrice asked, appearing at her side.
Valeria swallowed thickly. “An acquaintance.”
“A suitor?” Beatrice wiggled her eyebrows.
But Valeria shook her head. “No, nothing of the sort.”
And that, she feared, might well become a problem. She had learned how to accept the approaches of gentlemen, she had learned how to flirt, she had learned how to hold their attention. But there was one hard lesson ahead of her, one that could not be taught: how to accept that butterflies were a luxury, and that love might have no place in her future marriage.
She glanced back at the picnic blanket, where Amelia and Isolde were conversing. Her heart weighed heavy with understanding, for what they had found with their husbands was not necessarily on the cards for Valeria.
And I am running out of time…
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Duncan was well aware of the stir he was causing as he rode slowly down the wide path, swaying to the rhythm of his proud black stallion, so in harmony with his mount that he did not need to hold the reins.
He loved nothing more than to gallop through Hyde Park in the summer sunshine, but there were too many people wandering about, and the last thing he wanted was to accidentally run anyone down. Still, there was enjoyment enough in a plodding walk, feeling countless eyes upon him.
My duchess will have to know how to ride well,he mused.Someone with a sense of adventure. Someone who would not mind causing a bit of a scandal now and then.
He pulled sharply on the reins as a figure raced out into the path, startling the stallion. A dark-haired waif with some manner of ball in her hands, who shot a disapproving look at Duncan, as ifhewas the one who had done something wrong.
“Be careful where you are riding,” the young woman snapped, as another figure hurried to join her, pulling her out of the way.
Duncan’s eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise. “Miss Maxwell, is that you?”
“If you named her, then you know well enough who she is,” the dark-haired girl retorted, in a tone that Duncan did not appreciate.
He narrowed his eyes at the young woman, saying nothing. Rather, he continued to stare at her, hardening his expression, adopting the steely look he rarely had reason to use. He was infamous for being carefree and unserious, but those who had experienced his infrequent wrath were well aware that he had an intimidating streak.
The girl’s throat bobbed, and, after a moment, she dropped her gaze. She did not look his way again, fidgeting uncomfortably.
“You are fortunate that you appear to be a friend to Miss Maxwell,” he said, sliding down from the saddle. “If you were not known to her, there would be no leniency.”
Valeria stood in front of the girl. “I apologize, Your Grace. She was playing a game; she was not watching where she was going. She meant no harm.”
“I hope not.” He flashed a cold smile at the girl, thawing it as he turned his attention back to Valeria. “I did not expect to see youin London, Miss Maxwell. I assume you must have received the avalanche of invitations that I did.”
Valeria nodded. “Something like that.”
She looked beautiful in the hazy afternoon light, like a dream. Her dress was simple and somewhat outdated, with a faint scar of repair at the sleeve, but it was her fiery hair and exquisite face that lent her an intangible elegance.
“Perhaps, if our paths should cross again, we might dance at last,” he said brazenly, picturing her in his drawing room.
He had wanted to dance with her then, to complete the courtship ritual they had begun as part of her lesson. He had wanted to pull her to him, performing the kind of waltz that would make the King himself faint at the scandal of it. He had wanted to continue playing the game of courtship with her all night, disappointed when she had decided to leave.
In truth, he had struggled since that night. He found her wandering into his thoughts without warning, more often than he liked to admit. In the week or so that had passed since their last encounter, he had attended one dinner party and one soirée, and had barely spoken to any of the women present.
Not so promising for a gentleman who is in want of a wife.
The problem was simple: none of them had intrigued him or captured his interest as much as this woman before him. Hehad not even been compelled enough to have a dalliance, leaving both gatherings early and alone.
