“Of course,” Grace replied, still quite surprised at the neat way Samantha had tidied up all her mixed emotions.
“Good day, then.” Samantha stood, reached over, squeezed her hand, and then quit the room, leaving Grace still somewhat surprised at the quickness of the conversation that she had been so loathe to begin.
A bird’s song came from the direction of the window, effectively distracting Grace from her musings, and as she noted the sunshine, she spun on her heel to go and change into a walking dress.
Samantha was correct in many things; however, at the moment she was most inclined to obey her suggestion to get some air at the park.
A half hour later, Grace ambled through the streets of Mayfair with Sally at her heels accompanying her. Regina was otherwise engaged with other duties, and Sally was perfectly happy to chaperone the occasion. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of the birch trees, and even the hedgerows seemed a brighter green. A few sparrows darted across the sky, adding to the merriment of the walk, and for the first time in several weeks, Grace was at peace.
She was still striving to comprehend the degree of understanding Samantha had given her earlier; it was a gift of the most precious variety. It had utterly set her free from the stress she’d put herself under, and now it seemed as if the future held more promise.
Or at least, more promise than anxiety.
She would take whatever she could get.
It wasn’t a long walk to Hyde Park, and as she wound around the final bend she crossed Park Lane, and entered through a gate of some importance. The park was humming with activity, with ladies riding their horses at a sedate pace while gentlemen ambled about, conversation abounding between the two sexes. It was as much of a meeting place as the London Ballroom, Grace decided. And far more beautiful as well. She started down the path that indicated it led toward the Serpentine, and used the moments to be a student to human nature. A gentleman kissed a lady’s hand, smiling charmingly as he released her, and Grace felt a grin tip her lips as the lady seemed to simper—Grace was too far away to see much detail—and appreciate the attention. Just then a pair of doves flew overhead, in pursuit of each other.
It most certainly was the season for love.
Pity she was already bored with the London season.
Grace continued in that manner for several minutes, taking in the behavior of the people in the park as well as the wildlife when she heard a shout. Curious, she turned to see a gentleman chasing a runaway horse. The beautiful animal was obviously riderless and cantering in her direction. She paused, indecision freezing her as she debated whether to zig or zag, when she was lifted from behind and carried several feet from where she had stood. The horse thundered by, and Grace spun around the moment the strong arms left her waist.
“A thousand apologies, my lady.” The gentleman nodded and took a step back to give her room. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to move, and I didn’t want to risk your injury.” He lowered his eyes for a moment, then met her gaze with the full regard of his own. Deep blue eyes studied her, his expression properly apologetic. Grace couldn’t fault his decision so she simply smoothed her skirt and nodded.
“No apology is necessary,” she replied, but, oh my, his eyes were fascinating. Just light enough to see the color, but dark enough to hide whatever thoughts spun through his mind. Immediately her fancy was caught, and rather than find a way to excuse herself, she sought for a way to keep him in company.
Belatedly, she realized that an introduction would be the next step, but he had already anticipated such a step.
“Forgive me. I haven’t even given my name. I’m Julian Lambton, sixth Earl of Westhouse. It is a pleasure to meet you . . .”
“Grace. Miss Grace Morgan.” Grace spoke smoothly, for once not stuttering under pressure. She silently congratulated herself.
“A pleasure, Miss Grace Morgan.” He bowed crisply.
Grace curtsied in return, all the while thinking of something suitable to say to extend the conversation. “I do believe a thank you is in order. I was quite surprised by the charging animal and I was debating on whether to zig or zag, but my deliberation halted my progress. Thank you for your help.”
“It was of no consequence.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, and then seemed to consider whatever he was thinking about saying. “Would . . . would you like to take a turn about the park with me?”
Grace grinned, unable to restrain her enthusiasm. “Of course. As I have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, I’m sure there are plenty of conversational topics we can explore.”
He gave a small chuckle. “Quite true. Why don’t you start with your family? I don’t believe I’ve heard of the Morgans,” Lord Westhouse said as he extended his arm to her.
Grace took it, feeling a jolt of electricity hum through her at the contact. Her lips twitched in delight. “I’m originally from Matlock, but my family didn’t keep residence there. We traveled much of my childhood. This is my first time to London.”
“Ah, and how do you find it? Is it to your liking?” he asked, all gentlemanly manners.
Grace inwardly sighed. Though it was a natural question to ask, she would really rather people stop asking it. It put her in the most horrid position of lying, or at the very least, telling a half-truth. But as she turned to Lord Westhouse to answer, she decided that perhaps London wasn’t so bad after all.
“It improves more each day,” she replied, conscious that her words could be taken as a flirtation.
Samantha would be proud.
“Ha! A very cautious answer. Are your parents in residence?” He moved on in the conversation.
Grace was just evaluating his height. He was not as tall as the viscount, and not nearly the height of Lord Sterling, but he wasn’t short either. Somewhere in the middle.
Somewhere just right.
