Ambrose settled himself awkwardly on the edge of the sofa, his eyes wandering around the room as if searching forsomething of interest. Verity braced herself for the inevitable invitation she knew was coming. There was no way that this man was here for nothing.
“Lady Verity,” Ambrose began, clearing his throat, “I was hoping you would do me the honor of accompanying me for a ride in Hyde Park this afternoon.”
Verity’s heart sank, but she kept her expression neutral.
“Of course, Lord Aldford,” she replied, her voice calm. “I would be delighted.”
Ambrose seemed pleased with her response, though his demeanor remained as stiff as ever. “Excellent. Shall we depart?”
“That sounds perfect,” Verity said, forcing another smile.
It wasn’t long before Verity found herself seated beside Ambrose in his carriage, the rhythmic clatter of the horses’ hooves providing a steady, almost hypnotic drum beat to her thoughts. The conversation between herself and Ambrose was strained, filled with polite but empty exchanges because of course they had absolutely nothing in common. Verity spent most of the time hoping that not too many people saw her.
“Hyde Park is quite lovely this time of year,” Ambrose remarked, his tone flat, like he did not even feel like he needed to put in any effort to woo her.
“Yes, it’s,” Verity replied, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
If he would not bother, then she did not want to make too much effort either.
“I hope you are enjoying our ride,” Ambrose said, his tone lacking genuine interest.
“Yes, it’s quite pleasant,” she lied, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
“Do you often visit the park?” Ambrose asked, clearly searching for something to say.
“Occasionally,” Verity replied. “It’s a nice place to think and get some fresh air.”
“Indeed,” Ambrose agreed, though it was evident he had little more to add.
A heavy silence settled between them again.
Verity’s thoughts drifted back to the ballroom, to the dance she had shared with Philip. The ease with which they had conversed, the genuine interest in each other’s thoughts and feelings, contrasted painfully with the hollow interaction she was enduring now.
“Have you read any interesting books lately?” Ambrose asked suddenly, as if grasping at straws.
“Yes, I have,” Verity answered, trying to inject some enthusiasm in to her voice. “I recently finished a volume of poetry that was quite moving.”
“Ah, poetry,” Ambrose said, nodding. “I suppose it has its merits.”
Verity bit back a sigh. “Do you enjoy poetry, Lord Aldford?”
“Not particularly,” he admitted. “I find it rather difficult to understand at times.”
“Perhaps it requires a certain sensitivity to appreciate fully,” Verity suggested gently.
“Perhaps,” Ambrose conceded, though he seemed disinterested in pursuing the topic further.
As they rode through Hyde Park, Verity found herself wishing for the solitude of her art studio once more. At least in there, she did not feel like a fool.
As the carriage rolled to a stop near her home at long last, after what felt like a torturous ride, Ambrose offered his hand to help her down. Verity accepted it with a polite smile, her mind already wandering back to her quiet studio where she could lose herself in her art once more.
“Thank you for accompanying me today, Lady Verity,” Ambrose said formally.
Verity nodded, feeling a pang of guilt for her lack of enthusiasm, but how could she honestly be enthusiastic with this man?
“Thank you for the ride, Lord Aldford. It was… pleasant.”
Ambrose nodded, seemingly satisfied with her response. As they parted ways, Verity could not help but feel a sense of relief wash over her.
