Perhaps he wanted to return quickly, but that was not what she wanted, at all. She did not want to experience any more emergencies that required his help, nor did she intend to manufacture one. But it was horrible to think that he might slip away again with a bow, a smile and an invoice for services rendered.
It would be easier if she were anyone other than who she was. Charity or Grandmama would have not hesitated to do something outlandish enough to hold his attention. But Hope was supposed to be the proper one. So far, her attempts at being daring and reckless with Mr Drake had only seemed to make things worse.Gregory, she reminded herself, as the carriage rolled away from the town house and towards the edge of the city. Before the day was out, she must at least find an excuse to call him by his name.
She had not bothered with a veil today, for, with the family crest on the door of the carriage, it should not surprise people that she was inside. But she made sure that all the shades stayed down until they were well out of the city, so that no one would realise that she was travelling unchaperoned with a gentleman.
‘You could have brought a maid,’ Gregory said, as she finally pulled back the curtain to let in the light.
‘There was no time,’ she said firmly. If this was the last time she was to see him, she had not wanted Polly sitting between them to spoil things.
‘You found time to choose hair ribbons to match your gown,’ he said in a dry tone. ‘And to pack a valise and write to your grandmother.’
‘I did not want witnesses,’ she said. ‘For Charity’s sake,’ she added, struggling for an explanation that was not too ridiculous. ‘I do not need the maids gossiping about her foolishness.’
‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘They will gossip about yours instead.’
‘That is probably true,’ she replied, surrendering. ‘It is about time, I think. Faith and I were the sensible ones in the family. Now that she is no longer watching me, it is much more difficult to behave than I thought it would be.’
He turned away suddenly, and she was sure it was to hide a smile. Then, without turning back, he said, ‘I suspect it will be easier once the new Comstock has arrived and you no longer have to hare about London in a closed carriage with a stranger.’
‘I am not sure what we are to each other, Mr Drake,’ she replied. ‘But we have not been strangers to each other for quite some time.’
‘Only days,’ he reminded her. ‘It has been less than a week since we met.’
‘And what has happened between us...’ she said cautiously. ‘Would you describe it as normal?’
‘No,’ he said, much more quickly than she’d hoped he would.
He saw the shocked expression on her face and corrected himself. ‘I mean, the activities are normal enough. If we were married, for example. Or...’ he hesitated again ‘...or if we were in love. But never in my life... Well, not with a proper young lady, at least. And certainly not a proper young lady who I have only known for days.’
‘Oh.’ There had been a strange, vibrating sensation deep inside her, when he had said the word ‘love’. It was rather like how she imagined a target felt when struck by an arrow. Until this moment, she had never thought of Cupid as anything other than a myth. But today, if she had looked out the window and seen him with bow in hand, she would not have been a bit surprised.
Her half of their interaction was suddenly much clearer. She was in love with Gregory Drake.
‘Oh,’ she repeated, nodding in understanding. It explained why she felt better each time she saw him and worse each time he left. It was why she couldn’t seem to stop doing foolish things like kissing him when he came near to her. And why, even now, a part of her brain was searching for something she could do to make him stay.
And whatever it was would have to be spectacular, for it appeared that the feelings she had were not reciprocated. He had described love and marriage as a hypothetical explanation. But there was nothing in his tone or face to make her think he intended testing the hypothesis any time soon.
‘And you barely know me,’ he added, as if this was important.
‘While you know me quite well,’ she added. ‘Whatever Mr Leggett has not told you could be found inDebrett’s.’
She had said something wrong again. His expression had changed from open confusion to the distant smile he wore while working for her. ‘You seem to think that being able to trace someone’s family tree for generations is the same as knowing an individual. It is not, Miss Strickland. In fact, it is another thing entirely.’
At least, this time, she did not need Charity to explain how foolish she had been. ‘I must apologise again, Mr Drake. I did not mean to imply that a person without such heritage is any less valuable. It is just that...’ She bit her lip. ‘Everything that happens in my family has happened to others. My father, my uncles and my grandfather have alldonethings. Although I am not proud of their actions, even my grandmother and Charity have stories to tell. While I... Well, I am simply not very interesting.’
Now he looked startled, as if the fact had never occurred to him, then blurted without hesitation, ‘On the contrary, Miss Strickland, I find you fascinating.’
‘Really?’ She tried not to be too encouraged.
‘You tell stories of physical altercations with your sisters that lead to dented pewter, cracked plaster and bloodshed.’
‘All children are prone to mischief,’ she said.
‘You think a dismembered toe is a beloved childhood plaything.’
‘Actually, it is a prosthetic,’ she corrected.
‘You steal inkwells from family friends.’
