"I don't need your bloody help!" This came from Lyon, who shoved away his guards' efforts to assist him. Stumbling to his feet, he bared his teeth. "Mark my word, this isn't the end of it, Hunt."
"I won't have mercy the next time," Gavin said.
Swearing, the wiry figure stalked off with his coterie. Which left Gavin with the Kingsleys.
"What coarse language and in front of a lady. Lyon's nothing but an uncouth brute." Kingsley's face creased with distaste. "You can take a man from the stews but never the stews from the man."
Teetering, Mavis murmured through pale lips, "Kingsley, I think I need to rest now."
"Of course, my dear." Her husband put a solicitous arm around her. "Hunt, I'll drop by soon, and we'll discuss things under more civilized circumstances."
The two departed, leaving Gavin and Stewart to look at each other.
Gavin rubbed his neck. "Went well, don't you think?"
"Got your point across," Stewart said.
11
The gallant steed pulledup in front of Miss Farnham just as she stumbled out of the bushes. She recognized the rider as Lord Petersby, the object of her secret crush. As she gazed up into the perfection of his face, time seemed to stand still. Lord Petersby's refined voice cut through the passionate swell of violins in her head.
"Is that you, Miss Farnham?" Holding up a quizzing glass, he peered at her. "My dear lady, what has happened to your bonnet? And are those grass stains on your gown?"
Too late, she realized that the journey through the forest had left its mark.
—fromThe Perils of Priscilla, a manuscript sitting upon the desk of P. R. Fines
"Is anything amiss, Miss Fines? You seem preoccupied."
"Oh, um, it's nothing."
With a guilty start, Percy directed her gaze back to Lord Portland. They were strolling along Rotten Row, the most fashionable stretch of Hyde Park. At this time of the afternoon, members of thetoncrammed the tree-lined path. Some descended from the cluster of gleaming carriages to walk on foot whilst others paraded on horseback; all vied to see and be seen. Percy noticed how passersby—the ladies in particular—slid appreciative glances at her companion.
She couldn't blame them. Lord Charles cut a dashing figure in his crisp china blue cutaway jacket and buff breeches. A polished walking stick swung with elegant indolence from his hand. The sun glinted off the rich auburn hair curling over his ears whilst his boots reflected a mirror's shine; it seemed even dust daren't meddle with such masculine perfection. She ought to have been prancing with joy to be at his side.
Instead, that infernal kiss with Hunt kept interrupting what ought to have been a prime opportunity to advance her acquaintance with the viscount. Her hands balled inside her butter-smooth gloves, and her cheeks grew uncomfortably warm. Why had Hunt affected her so? She was not in love with the bounder. Even if she found him theteensiestbit attractive—in a rough, uncouth sort of way—it was no excuse for her actions. She'd acted worse than a trollop.
Her heart thudded as she recalled the sensations he'd elicited in her. So strong... andintense. Beyond anything she'd come across in novels—and she'd donea lotof reading.
Dash it all, I amnota wicked girl! Hunt... caught me off guard, was all.
'Twas true that witnessing him with those children had revealed a hidden side to the man. There was more to him than met the eye. A mystery below the surface—
"I think you have wandered off again, Miss Fines."
Focus!"I am ever so sorry, Lord Portland," she said.Who cares if Hunt is an enigma? He is your opponent now—and a tricky one at that. Don't forget how he lulled you into a sense of false security with that first kiss. Think how smug he'd be if he knew you were thinking about him instead of your beloved.Summoning her brightest smile, she added, "It must be the heat. I think it has addled my senses."
Beneath his smart tall hat, Lord Charles' grey eyes warmed. "No need to apologize, Miss Fines. 'Tis only natural and admirable that a lady should have delicate sensibilities. Indeed, your sensitivity to the clime does you a compliment—would you like me to send for the carriage?"
He looked behind them, where her maid and his groom followed at a proper distance.
"Thank you, but it won't be necessary. I think I can manage for a while longer."Note to self: do not let on that you have the constitution of an ox.She lowered her lashes in what she hoped passed for a demure manner. "I have been so looking forward to this, after all."
"How delightful of you to say so," Lord Charles said.
He paused to tip his hat at an acquaintance.
His merest gestures were like poetry. One never felt unsettled around Lord Charles; he was all that was proper and good. Precisely the type of gentleman Papa would have wished for a son-in-law. And utterly unlike that other dratted someonewho intended to ruin her family. She resolved not to think of Hunt again for the remainder of the outing.
