He heard a sound in the hall and stood. As expected, Elizabeth came into view, her maid close behind. He remembered how Joan had always required a chaperone in town, and though some social restrictions were less in the country, certain proprieties must be met.
“Miss Essex.” He bowed.
“Lord Penderdale, thank you for waiting.”
He noted the fine cut of her dress, nipping along her hips and giving just enough of a silhouette of her shape to whet his imagination. Her strawberry hair was twisted into a loose chignon, a tendril of hair curling around her neck and leading his gaze lower. He snapped his attention to her eyes, forcing a gentlemanly manner he’d rather have ignored.
Damn, but she was beautiful.
And tempting.
Perhaps it was a bad idea to take a walk.
He was intentionally walking into an irresistible situation, knowing full well his friend had feelings for the lady.
Nevertheless, he didn’t want to listen to the better side of his conscience.
“It was no hardship to wait, Miss Essex. The biscuits were delightful company.”
“They usually are. Our cook is excellent,” she replied. “But add honey to anything and it improves it.”
“On that point, we are in utter agreement. Rare, that.” He hinted at a smile.
She twisted her lips, drawing his attention to their pink bow-like shape. “Indeed, shall we go before we find something to disagree about and start the war early?”
He chuckled. “Wise and lovely… How am I so lucky?” He offered his arm, and in a few momentsthey were taking in the air and directing their steps toward the market streets of Cambridge.
“So, Miss Essex, have you always resided in Cambridge?” he asked. A quick glance behind him afforded an assurance Elizabeth’s maid was following behind. He might be a cad for spending time with Elizabeth when his friend’s pursuit was clear, but he wasn’t a rake.
“Yes. I was born and raised here and have only left once. My father and mother took me to London when I was eight. I don’t remember much, just the smell.”
He chuckled. “It takes some getting used to.”
“I much prefer the country.”
“Cambridge isn’t a small village,” he challenged.
“It is compared to London,” she replied. “And the smoke dissipates quicker.”
“I suppose you’re correct.”
She paused and regarded him. “I do love hearing you say those words.”
He arched a brow. “Clearly you don’t hear them often, and likely won’t, so feel free to bask in the moment, Miss Essex.”
She narrowed her eyes, then continued. “Has anyone told you that pride comes before a fall?”
“You should hope I don’t fall, since I have your arm in mine. If I did take a tumble, you might come along with me.”
She tried to slip her arm from his.
He resisted her efforts. “No, you are my anchor. If I do take a fall, it’s your penance.”
“For what?” she asked, her tone outraged but her lips bending into a smile. It was far too much fun to bait her.
“I haven’t decided.”
She pursed her lips, irritated. “Truly. You’re making me serve penance for an offense I haven’t committed?”
