“I hope you do not think me brazen, but as you are occupying the only place of shelter to be found, I wonder if we might join you?”
He shifted aside, closer to the bench, allowing both ladies to take a place beneath the boughs. “It seems we have all made quite the fools of ourselves today.”
Miss Gresham’s face snapped to him. Color flooded her cheeks. “What can you mean, sir?”
Grinning, he motioned toward the downpour surrounding them. “Our choice of walking was hardly sensible.”
“Oh.” She breathed something between a sigh and a laugh. “Indeed.”
Silence fell between them, as thick and pelting as the rain on the stone flagway.
Miss Gresham spun her umbrella slightly on her shoulder, feigned great interest in surveying surroundings she likely already knew by heart, then made several quiet remarks to the girl she called Bridget on the inconveniences the weather sometimes inflicted.
Then, with half-bashful and half-cunning eyes, she lifted her face back to his. “Do tell us, Mr… .” She raised a brow. “La, but you have never given your name.”
She knew of course that they’d spoken but once—and then without company or any mutual friend to make introductions. But curiosity, which seemed to be the instigator behind her pursuit of him, must have won against her sense of social etiquette.
He bent with a slightly exaggerated bow. “Mr. Kensley at your service, Miss Gresham.”
“You know who I am.”
“Certainly.”
“A wonder indeed, for I have never seen you before, and I certainly did not introduce myself upon our last meeting.”
He did not explain away her wonder, though the mystery had been no great one to unpuzzle. After all, no servant would have been dressed as she’d been that first day at the flower box—and certainly no one but Lord Gresham’s daughter would speak so.
“Tell me, Miss Gresham.” He leaned back against the tree and crossed his arms. “Have you any other siblings?”
“What a strange question. Where are you from, Mr. Kensley?”
“Now I fear that is unfair.”
“Sir?”
“To refuse my question and then propose one of your own.” The grin deepened until he might have laughed, but he forced back the mirth.
She tilted her head in compliance. “Very well. I have no siblings.”
“And I am from Leicestershire.”
“What brings you to London?”
“I believe it is my turn, is it not?” When she nodded him on, the humor drained from him, as quickly as the brown water flow raced around the stones and rushed away. “Is your mother yet living?”
The same seriousness tightened her own face. “No.”
“I am sorry.”
“Thank you. And as for the reason you are in London?”
“A mere personal matter.”
“That is hardly an answer, sir.”
“With your father.”
“Still uninformative.”
