“The nodding, Lord Berkeley,” she whispered, as if it were a great secret. “You are not nodding in the picture.”
A startled laugh escaped him, and she grinned at being the cause.
“Ah, yes, I see now. I’ll have the portrait taken down. Maybe we can replace it with a painting of the top of my bent head.”
Lydia clapped her hands together. “That would be far preferred. And far more accurate.”
Lord Berkeley shook his head with half a smile. “You, Miss Faraday, are ridiculous.”
“You, Lord Berkeley, could use a little ridiculousness in your life.”
“You mean my clandestine activities do not count?”’
“Are you referencing your sponsorship of a club? I hardly think that is clandestine.”
He made a sound of contemplation. “I suppose you are right.”
“Not enough people tell me that,” she teased, stepping back from his portrait to put some distance between it and herself. “So you fight there as well.” It was not exactly a question. She couldn’t imagine it being any other way.
He looked sidelong at her, still facing the portrait. “At times.”
“Are you accomplished at it?”
“I have won many a fight,” he hedged.
“How many have you lost?”
He hesitated. “Two.”
“Compared to how many you’ve won?”
“Ah . . . more than two. Many more.”
She turned to face him. “Lord Berkeley, you could sing your own praises every once in a while.”
He shook his head, but a small chuckle escaped him.
“Will you show me how?”
His brows rose. “To box?”
She nodded. “Yes, I admit to an interest.”
“There are many people who will teach a young lady to box.”
“Are you one of them?”
“I cannot say I have ever taught a woman to box, no.”
“Well, there is a first time for everything.” She smiled at him, not positive whether she was teasing him or herself. In fact, she was very much aware that she was simply prolonging her time in his company. She should not, but she could not help herself.
He shook his head. “I do not think it would be proper.”
Lydia fingered the side of her pelisse, trying not to let her disappointment show. “I apologize. I did not mean to push the bounds of propriety.”
“Do not apologize. I meant no reprimand. I only... That is...” The strong, stoic man before her was clearly flustered. She found a strange sense of pride in that. “I suppose I can show you a step or two.”
“You do not need to if you do not wish it.” But already, her hopes were rising. It had been some time since she had done something truly enjoyable, and learning to box from Lord Berkeley suddenly seemed the very best way to spend her afternoon.
