He was watching her intently, his cutlery lowered to his plate and his dark-brown eyes on hers.
Did she have something on her face?
“I do not believe I’ve ever asked youwhyyou were walking alone along the Serpentine that day,” he said. “Or, well, I suppose I did ask you, but you were not particularly in the mood to respond.” He winked before taking a drink.
A twinge of residual irritation twisted in her chest, but it was overshadowed by general amusement. No. She hadn’t been particularly in the mood to answer that question when she was sopping wet and being detained by an unknown gentleman.
“The short answer is that I was lost.”
“And the long answer?”
Somehow, revealing anything of a personal nature to Lord Norwich concerned her. She hadn’t had anyone to confide in or talk to—outside of Mary—since her family had dismissed her governess and brought her to London. And of all the people to talk openly with, Lord Norwich was not a possibility.
But then... parts of their conversation from their ride in Hyde Park returned to her. His sincerity in snatches and moments.
His eyes hadn’t left hers, and she felt an inexplicable desire to actually respond truthfully. Not with some fluff about shopping and forgetting where she’d asked the carriage to wait for her. This Lord Norwich, the one who asked questions and watched her as if he cared to know about her, seemed trustworthy enough.
She would just have to hope he could keep theotherLord Norwich in check whenever he decided to rear his empty, charming head.
“My sisters upset me, so I left home, intending to find a place of quiet. Unfortunately, I underestimated London—or forgot that I was no longer in the country where I was able to take more than a few steps from my door without a maid. Then, as I said, I became lost. And then there was a bird that sounded like a child, and I lost my bonnet, and... then you were there.”
His eyes darted between both of hers, seeming to decide how to respond. Eventually, he said, “I am sorry your sisters upset you.”
She strove for lightness with her words. “But not sorry I became lost?”
“Oh no, I cannot be sorry that happened.” He winked at her, then returned his focus to his plate, cutting a piece of braised ham and bringing it to his mouth.
Now what did he mean by that?
If only she could ask him. But she could, couldn’t she? Gathering her courage, she set down her fork. “Why not?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Why are you not sorry I became lost?”
For just a moment, he stilled, his eyes darting to his plate. But then he looked up at her with a glint in his eye. “Your dress, of course. I assume I ruined it when you fell in the water?”
“Completely. Mary did everything she could to save it.”
“Well, I cannot be sorry I ruined a dress you so disliked.”
She raised a brow. “That was one of the few dresses Ididlike.”
He choked on his drink. She tried not to laugh at the look of abject horror he gave her.
“Well, that is certainly unfortunate,” he said once he finally swallowed the offending beverage.
“Indeed.”
“I am sorry.”
“You ought to be.”
He laughed and picked up his glass again, apparently feeling brave enough to risk another drink. “Now what was this about a bird?”
She huffed, taking a bite before responding. “It was the strangest thing, and having grown up solely in the country, I should not have fallen for it. But there was a bird that I assure you sounded nearly identical to a child’s crying. I went to search for it, but it was only a bird. And then the wind took my bonnet, which was not even mine.” She caught sight of his expression and leveled a dark look his way. “Do not laugh. I was trying to help a child. It is noble.”
“Yes. Noble.”
