As a rule, he never dallied with engaged women. Married women, perhaps, if they were sophisticated and knowledgeable in the ways of the world. But even so… he preferred to avoid love triangles completely. Less complicated that way.
Less dangerous that way.
However,Miss Rhododendron Mossantwas not spoken for. The dark-haired lady seemed interesting enough and was quite pleasant to look at. Perhaps Miss Babineaux would bring her fiancé along, and Devlin could size the gentleman up. He had saved the minx’s life, after all. He felt almost responsible for her!
Perhaps the ladies wouldn’t even come. Or they’d been and gone already. Why,afternooncould mean practically anything!
With such logical intentions settled, he strolled — for no reason whatsoever — along the calm waters of the Serpentine on the appointed day at the height of the afternoon.
He’d not realized people thought to feed the water fowl. Didn’t most of thetoncome here simply to feed their own hunger for gossip? Or to show off a new hat, or bonnet, or some other faradiddle?
He laughed at himself.
And then his laughter turned to one of pleasure. She was here.
Across the grass he caught sight of a petite woman with soft blond curls trailing a leash. At the opposite end, a long reddish pup pranced along in front of her.
It took a moment for him to register that her friend walked beside her, Miss Mossant, yes, Miss Mossant. The girls complemented each other in a most attractive way. One tall, dark, and slim, the other shorter, golden, and softly rounded.
No fiancé in sight, damn his eyes.
He watched as they reached into a cloth bag and offered pieces of bread to the more courageous ducks approaching them. It did not take long for every duck in sight to surround the two ladies.
One might think ladies of thetonwould be intimidated by such fowlish exuberance.
Not these girls.
Their giggling and laughter floated across the park almost musically.
As he watched, Miss Sophia Babineaux, with a flourished twirling, tipped the bag upside down and turned it inside out. Any last crumbs scattered and were pounced upon eagerly.
The ducks, it seemed, had experienced this before and knew no more plunder was to be had.
As they waddled away, Dev sauntered toward the ladies.
“No chaperone, again?” he asked.
Smiling, Miss Mossant pointed toward two tittering maids seated on a bench several yards away. They were obviously caught up in their own gossip and oblivious to both Miss Mossant’s and Miss Babineaux’s affairs. “The best kind!”
Miss Babineaux eyed him suspiciously. He did not blame her for doing so. His actions yesterday were not exactly those of a well-intentioned gentleman.
Her canine, however, gazed at him adoringly. Taking whatever welcome he might find, he crouched down and scratched the back of Peaches’ head.
“She is afraid of the ducks. She only barked at them once, and they nearly quacked her head off for it,” Miss Babineaux explained.
Her voice touched something elusive inside of him. Not long ago, he’d held this little bundle in his arms, tasted her lips…
Looking up, he studied her as his hand massaged the dog’s neck. “She’s a good dog. How long have you had her?”
“Almost four years now.” With her hair in ringlets, dressed in lace and pastels, she appeared to all the world a simple miss. And yet… her eyes were guarded. Something troubling lurked behind her smile. Something… dark?
The dog licked his wrist before Dev rose.
“You are still in town.” Miss Mossant addressed him, drawing his attention away from Miss Babineaux. “How delightful for us! We can thank you again for your assistance yesterday. You are quite the hero, Captain.”
“My pleasure, ladies.” Dev spoke cautiously.
Miss Mossant watched him from beneath fluttering eyelashes — fluttering andflirtatiouseyelashes. She was a beautiful woman in her own right, but the ladies seemed to be the closest of friends. This could become complicated if he did not watch himself.
