They set off down the street. Whatever trouble he had with the right eye, it didn’t impede his stride, and Lucy was glad she didn’t have to slow her normal pace. Next to her, Hart was still stiff, his frown set in place.
“You needn’t look so grim. People will think you don’t enjoy my company.”
He glanced her way. “Sorry. I haven’t been out in public at all since the accident. My manners are rusty.”
“And who’s fault is that?” She arched an eyebrow.
They walked for several blocks without speaking. She watched Hart’s shoulders relax incrementally. By the time they turned into the park, his demeanor had relaxed enough that he began to resemble himself again. The silence between them was not uncomfortable. Lucy enjoyed walking next to him, letting the warmth of the day soak into her bones. It had rained every day the last week, but today the sun shone down and made everything in the park look lush and green. Small white and yellow butterflies fluttered around a flowering rhododendron.
Lucy laid a hand on Hart’s arm. “Look.” She pointed to the bush.
He stopped and stared at the butterflies. “I wouldn’t have noticed them.”
“Today is a beautiful day. You have been cooped up too long. Take in all this green.” She gestured widely with one hand. Then she squinted up at him. “You really do look terrible. But at least you cut your hair.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “Don’t hold back the truth.”
“I won’t. You have been wallowing, ignoring your friends, and I’m still cross with you.” She reminded him, and herself as well.
He reached out a hand to touch the delicate petals of a flower and a dozen tiny butterflies scattered up into the air. Lucy laughed in delight at the beautiful frenzy of yellow and white wings. Hart turned his head to stare at her.
Feeling self-conscious, she pushed back a stray wisp of hair that fluttered with the breeze. “What?” she asked as Hart just stood there.
“Why did you write? You kept sending letters even after I sent you away.”
She shrugged. “I guess I thought you could use some diversion from your sulking.”
“I did. They helped.”
“You read them?” He had never replied. She assumed her letters had moldered in a pile on his desk.
“I read every one.” His searching gaze trapped hers.
All her old feelings fluttered wildly in her stomach like the butterflies rising from the bush. But she ruthlessly pushed them down. She refused to let those tender feelings surface. His rejection had hurt too much. She began walking down the path.
Hart followed her. His walking stick tapped against the pea gravel as he strode to catch up. “I visited Trudy like you told me to. She has opinions about you getting married.”
“I know that she would like to see me settled.”
“But you don’t wish to be married?” He glanced over at her.
“You see what sort of fools I must deal with in polite society. Fitzwilliam isn’t the only fortune hunter trying to get under my skirts.” What she didn’t want to tell Hart was that, in truth, she got very little attention.
As the daughter of a navy captain, she was far too low on the social ladder for most titled men to consider her for a wife unless they really needed the large dowry Hart’s father had gifted her when she became his ward. Hart would of course be well aware of this. The thought of his pity was unbearable.
“Actually, I have a beau. But I haven’t said anything because he doesn’t yet have enough money for us to marry.”
Hart’s head whipped around to look at her. “Who is he?”
Who is he… who is he? Lucy scrambled for a name to give. “Gregory Murdoch. He is a solicitor. He works for the firm of Jackson & Worth.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“My very good friend, Violet, is the daughter of the Earl of Blackpool, and Mr. Murdoch handles their accounts. I met him at a luncheon where we cultivated a friendship. But you must promise not to tell Trudy. I don’t want her meddling.”
Hart snorted. “A solicitor? I believe Trudy has higher hopes for you.”
“I am the daughter of a navy captain and a vicar’s daughter. Marriage to a solicitor makes perfect sense. It makes far more sense than marriage to a peer.”
