Victoria and Richard looked down at the same instant, instinctively. Their shoulders brushed. A ripple of whispers seemed to pass through the nearby onlookers. Victoria held her breath, heart thudding, until the baby settled once more, lulled by the movement of the stroller.
Relief washed through her, which was quickly followed by unease.
“We’d be happy to attend, my lady,” Richard answered at last, and Victoria gulped, nodding along.
“Oh, capital! I shall send the official invitation swiftly. Good day, Your Graces,” she greeted with a curtsy and moved along.
Victoria let out a long breath.
She was going to have to attend an event with Richard. A proper event. Not at the park, where many convenient distractions could serve as an escape.
“Are you all right?” Richard asked.
“Yes. Quite,” she only mumbled.
Then, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a man watching them. He sat astride a black stallion, just within the carriage path. The horse was magnificent, but it was the rider who unsettled her. He was not observing them with idle curiosity, nor with the calculating interest of the ton. His gaze was intent. Focused. Almost proprietary.
A chill traced her spine.
Before she could examine the feeling further, he turned his mount and rode away, disappearing into the crowd.
Victoria’s heart continued to pound long after he was gone.
They soon reached their carriage, Richard’s arm still close to hers, too close. She realized, with a jolt of self-awareness, that she liked it far more than she ought to.
And that was dangerous.
“Richard,” she whispered, her voice unexpectedly husky.
It was as though he startled awake. He stepped back at once, color rising in his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, almost under his breath, as they climbed into the carriage.
The ride back passed in strained silence.
Once they returned to Hawksford House, it was as if Hyde Park had never existed at all. The easy proximity vanished. The shared glances. The careful choreography.
Richard retreated to his study, closing the door behind him, once more placing distance where, only moments ago, there had been none.
Victoria stood alone, the echo of his presence lingering far longer than she wished it to.
And she could not decide which troubled her more: the performance itself, or how easily it had begun to feel real.
“WHERE IS HE?”
Daniel burst into Hawksford House like a thunderclap, red-faced and furious.
Victoria rose from her chair in the drawing room, still cradling Melody in her arms.
Oh, no, she thought.He must have already heard of our stroll at the park.
News travelled swiftly when a scandal was involved. His arrival sent servants scattering, and Victoria rushed to meet him at the drawing room’s threshold.
“Hawksford!” he roared. “Where is that bastard?”
Victoria startled, her heart lurching. Before she could answer, Richard appeared in the corridor, drawn by the commotion.
“You scoundrel!” Daniel bellowed, striding forward without hesitation. “You dared to shame my sister!”
