By God he had not imagined her beauty, her magic. Two years later and hiding like a common thief, he still felt all the impact he’d felt each time he looked at her before—only more so.
She’d swept her hair up and the gown she wore appeared sophisticated, and as far as Chance could tell, of the latest fashion.
The dandy placed a hand at her back, and she turned around to smile up at him.
Chance would have preferred to take a blow to the gut but didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, until the barouche driver flicked the reigns and pulled the vehicle into the street.
By then, Chance had stepped out into the walk. When he glanced sideways, he met Mr. Carrington’s eyes, who feigned a casual salute. Well hell. His disguise was perhaps not as effective as he’d thought.
And yet, Chance could not be certain the dandy was anything more than a casual suitor.
The next afternoon, he took his place once again, but she did not come out at all.
The following morning, however, he was rewarded. In a lovely blue day dress that reminded him of the gown she’d worn on that last evening they’d shared together, she stepped outside alone.
Only she was not alone. She held tight to the leading string and good old Mr. Dog waddled alongside her.
And although he was happy that she was by herself, he was not pleased at all at the thought that she went galivanting through Mayfair unaccompanied. It was not as though her “son” was going to protect her if some footpads took it upon themselves to attack.
Grumbling to himself, he followed at a distance. Her voice carried down the walk when she greeted a few of her neighbors: sweet, songlike. He almost stumbled at first, how many times had her imagined that same voice, calling out to him in dreams?
She continued onward with a spring in her step, quite happy with herself and the day. It would seem, he surmised, that Hyde Park was her destination.
Seeing her so carefree and full of sunshine gave Chance mixed feelings. Who was he to interrupt her idyllic life? After what he’d done to her, he’d be surprised if she deigned to speak with him.
A gust of wind swept down the street, lifting his hat off his head and sending it tumbling along with a flying broadsheet. Torn between abandoning his chase and returning to Hollis’ House, he halted for only a moment. Surely, she couldn’t recognize him if he kept himself hidden?
In the end, he was not quite ready to allow her out of his sight. He would simply be careful, keep his distance. This was easier once she turned into the park. He could get closer to her, with trees and bushes for cover.
And she seemed quite intent upon Mr. Dog’s antics. The dog showed interest in nearly every bird he caught sight of, especially the ducks at the edge of the water. Occasionally he went so far as to let out a low bark and was quickly chastised by his mistress.
From this closer proximity, Chance could appreciate the flush of her cheeks, and remember how her tender skin had felt when he’d dragged his tongue along the edge of her jaw. He’d kissed those lips, hell, he’d explored every secret in her pink little mouth.
So caught up in his study of her, he failed to notice the elderly ladies walking along the path. “Your Grace! Yoo hoo! Chauncey? Is that you?”
He’d been careless. Damn his eyes!
Chance glanced around in search of somewhere to hide, if he could turn his back, cover his face, but the two ladies seemed quite intent upon not allowing him escape.
“And there is Mrs. Bloomington!” Lady Zelda’s voice called out mercilessly.
Chance had lost all control of the situation.
“Hello!” Aubrey’s voice rang out. She’d not seen him yet as she approached the two ladies but Mr. Dog, the enthusiastic little traitor, strained on his leash to get to Chance.
At this point Chance could choose to run if he wished, he could hide, but Hollis’ words taunted him. Chance was not a coward! He pulled his shoulders back, raised one hand to wave in Lady Longewood’s direction, and shuffled along the path to where Lady Zelda was conversing with Aubrey… who stared in his direction as though she was seeing a ghost.
“What a lovely surprise,” Lady Zelda reached out a hand for Chance to bow over. She and Lady Longewood had been acquainted with his mother since childhood. “Martha. I had not heard Chauncey was in town, had you?” She glanced between Chance and Aubrey, “Of course, no introduction is necessary for the two of you. Oh, isn’t this delightful?”
Aubrey looked as though she’d turned into an ice statue, her face white as a sheet while Mr. Dog jumped up on Chance’s legs.
“My condolences, on the loss of your wife, Your Grace,” Lady Longewood wasn’t quite as effusive as her companion.
Aubrey shook her head. “Chance? Did you call him Your Grace?” She glanced down at Mr. Dog, her gaze jumped back to Chance’s face. And again, “Mr. Bateman?” In those two words she managed to somehow inject all of her skepticism, pain, and disbelief he had ever caused her.
Chance dropped to his haunches and rubbed Mr. Dog’s reddish brown coat, massaging the extra skin around the dog’s neck. He lifted his own eyes to meet hers. “Hello,Princesse.”
Upon hearing the familiar endearment he’d called her, she snapped out of her stunned state.
