“Probably,” Claybourne said, offering his arm.
It would be rude to ignore it, so she placed her hand on his arm.
“You do realize you’re creating a scandal having Frannie with you without a chaperone.”
“Good Lord, Catherine, we grew up sleeping together, spooned around each other. Do you really think our relationship warrants a chaperone?”
Catherine was hit with an unexpected spark of jealousy and imagined them doing a good deal more than innocent spooning. “Appearance is everything.”
“Very well, but she’s nearly thirty. Isn’t that the magical age when a woman no longer needs looking after?”
“She’s that old? She doesn’t look it. Still, seeing you together out in public, people will assume she’s your mistress.”
“I’ve never bedded her.”
Catherine was surprised by the relief that hit her with that inappropriate confession. “Are you going to wear a sign on your back stating so?”
“You’re the one who suggested I do something with her.”
He didn’t bother to mask his impatience with her.
“I assumed you’d have common sense enough to realize you needed a chaperone.”
“There’s no hope for it then. We’ll have to spend the rest of the day with you and the Duchess of Avendale, who as a married woman can serve as her chaperone in order to save Frannie’s reputation.”
Catherine narrowed her eyes at him. Had he just pulled some sort of trick on her in order to be included in her party?
“If I didn’t know better I’d think you’d arranged this meeting on purpose, deliberately not bringing along a chaperone so I’d feel obligated to protect Frannie’s reputation.”
“Does it make me a scoundrel to enjoy your company?”
“You’re a scoundrel simply because you’re a scoundrel.”
“I suppose I can’t deny that, but Frannie learns by imitation. I thought a day of observing you out and about would serve her well.”
“So today is a lesson, not an outing to enjoy each other’s company. It defeats the purpose.”
“How can it defeat the purpose when it brings you and me one step closer to obtaining what we each desire?”
Catherine’s attention was drawn to the pounding footsteps. Whit approached, holding a lollipop.
“Sir, are you going to come with us now?”
Claybourne crouched. “Would you like me to?”
Catherine was astounded by his rapport with the child.
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you ever seen an elephant?”
Whit shook his head.
Unfolding his body, Claybourne extended his hat and walking stick toward Catherine.
“Do you mind?”
She took them. Claybourne turned his attention back to Whit. “Come on then, my young lord.” He hoisted Whit upon his shoulders and the boy crowed once again, his lollipop becoming lost in Claybourne’s thick, curling hair.
