His gaze slipped the length of her to her feet and back again, swift but thorough, as though he couldn’t quite quell his all-too-male instincts enough to keep his eyes on her face.
“Here,” he said after a moment, digging into his coat pocket and producing a long, thin box. “This is for you.”
She knew what it was; he’d been giving them to her for nearly six years. “Are you certain it’s wise to keep arming me?” she asked, careful not to touch his fingers as she took the box and opened it. The fan was a soft blue, with a dove appearing on the delicate rice paper as she opened it out. It bothered her that he always knew what she would like.
“At least this way I know what’ll be coming at me,” he returned, glancing at his aunts and back again. “Speaking of which, wouldn’t you rather take the barouche this morning?”
“We wish to exercise ourselves, not your horses.”
“We could exercise together.”
Georgiana blushed scarlet. With his aunts present she didn’t dare hand him the retort he deserved—and he knew it, dash it all. “You might get hurt, in that case,” was the best she could muster, scowling as she snapped the fan open and closed.
“I might be willing to risk it.” He leaned in the morning room doorway, his light blue eyes amused. “And you may receive more exercise than you intend, anyway, pushing that contraption through Hyde Park.”
“Thank you for your concern,” she said, “but it’s not necessary.” She needed to try to be pleasant to him, she reminded herself.
The viscount pushed upright. “I’ll go with you. The fact that it’s not necessary simply reflects to my credit.”
“No, it doesn’t—”
Dare’s eight-year-old brother, Edward, pounded down the stairs. “If you’re going to Hyde Park, so am I. I want to ride my new horse.”
A muscle in Dare’s cheek twitched. “We’ll do that later, Edward. I can’t give riding lessons and push Aunt Milly at the same time.”
“I’ll give riding lessons,” Bradshaw interrupted from the landing above.
“I thought you’d joined the navy, not the cavalry.”
“Only because I already know everything there is to know about horses.”
Dare began to look irritated, and so Georgiana gave him a genuine smile. “The more, the merrier, I always say.” She stepped aside, motioning him to the back of the chair.
By the time they made it down the shallow front steps and onto the drive to join Edward, his horse, and Bradshaw, they were a party of eight, including all five of the Carroway brothers. Tristan looked over his shoulder as his brother Andrew hopped down to the drive, Robert following behind him at a slight limp.
“Bradshaw’s giving riding lessons,” he grumbled, pushing his aunt out to the cobblestoned street, “but why are you lot here?”
“I’m assisting Bradshaw,” Andrew said cheerfully, taking up position on the other side of Edward.
“And you, Bit?”
The middle Carroway brother kept his position at the back of the group. “I’m walking.”
“Oh, this is so nice,” Milly said, clapping her hands together. “The whole family out for a walk together, just like when you were all naughty little boys.”
“I’m not naughty,” Edward stated from aboard his gray pony. “And neither is Prince George.”
“There are some who would disagree with you, Edward,” Tristan said with a slight smile, “but I’m sure Prinny appreciates the gesture of confi—”
“Prince George is the name of my horse, Tristan,” the youngest Carroway clarified.
“You may want to reconsider that. Perhaps simply ‘George.’”
“But—”
“You might call him Tristan,” Georgiana suggested, trying not to laugh at the exchange. “Is he a gelding?”
Bradshaw made a choking sound. “Dare’s right, Edward. Naming animals after present and future monarchs is generally frowned upon.”
