His hum settled into her chest, buzzing there like the bees’ wings. “Bella has done an admirable job distracting your mother. But we must both have perfectly respectable conversations to report at the end of our walk. I won’t enjoy Bella’s ire if I do not.”
“What?”
“Oh yes, my sister is rather fond of you. Or hopeful of something more.”
“But… you hardly know me. And I’ve spoken to her but once.”
“Is that not the purpose of a promenade? To get to know someone?”
“I suppose it is.”
“This is what you make of it, Miss Eliza. Whatever you want to know, I’ll answer.”
“Truly?”
“Of course.”
The sheer number of possibilities threatened to overwhelm Eliza. She settled on, “Where are you from?”
“The family estate is in Cornwall. I’ve spent most of my life there.”
“The sea… I’ve never seen the sea,” she said, wistful.
“It’s not on the sea, but it’s not far. Blackwood Grange—the estate—is on the moors, not five miles outside of Bodmin.”
“I’ve not traveled much. Our country home is in western Kent. I have an uncle near Edinburgh, but I’ve only been there once.”
“It’s different—not like Kent. But it is my ancestral home. And I’m convinced Bodmin has the most beautiful sunrise in the entire country.”
“It must be lovely then.”
“I’m an excellent judge of beauty,” he insisted, with significance. He was all affected charm again. And itwasquite effective. Was it possible to die of a flush? Surely it was not healthful for all that blood to remain in her cheeks. But even as the blush spread across Eliza’s cheeks, she found herself longing for the boy plucking weeds for his mother.
She brushed aside his implied compliment. “And what do you do—there?”
“Besides gaining a reputation as a rake?” he asked. “I do… whatever is necessary for the comfort and improvement of my family and our home.”
Eliza nodded as though she took his meaning, even though the careful wording left her a touch puzzled.
“And your father?”
His gaze flicked toward her and back ahead again. “My father, our relationship, is… complicated. He has exacting expectations of me—duty, honor. But he’s taught me the most important things.” His tone went flat on the wordduty, a shift she couldn’t identify.
“Such as?”
“Learning from past mistakes. Looking forward, preparing for the future.”
The way he spoke of his father, so very different from his mother, left Eliza with a strange, disquieting sense. Sinclair’s childhood and his family were so different from her own. Much as her family drove her to fits, Eliza was grateful for each of them. It seemed Sinclair had experienced no such irritation or love; that was too great a loss to consider.
When she turned to face forward, she found the bench they’d begun their walk at, and her heart sank in disappointment.
“It’s nearly time for me to leave you to your afternoon, Miss Wayland. But I hope to see you again very soon.”
“Me too—I hope to see you again.”
A knot threatened to overtake Eliza’s throat as she stared at him. Their chaperones arrived at the bench a second later. Eliza ripped her eyes from his face to greet her mother and Lady Arabella.
Sinclair took her gloved hand in both of his, bowing over it with a whispered, “Goodbye for now, Miss Wayland.”
