Graham thundered through the park on his horse, urging the mount to go faster as he sped along the lanes, ignoring the glares of the other park-goers. His mind was spinning too quickly not to move his body just as fast.
Almost like he was going to outrun something. Only he couldn’t.
He had made love to Lydia Ford less than twenty-four hours before. And it had been spectacular, and yet he couldn’t help but feel…troubled. Incomplete, no matter how satisfying he’d found the experience.
He didn’t like it. He liked when things were neat and careful and well planned.
“Exactly why your life is such a tangle right now,” he grunted to himself, slowing Samson as he steered the animal onto one of the forested paths that went farther into the wooded parts of the park. Alongside the riders, walkers strolled. Ladies with parasols, gentlemen with canes. They were all there to see and to be seen.
Graham felt very exposed as he rode through them, knowing their eyes turned on him. Knowing their whispers addressed the scandal he couldn’t escape. Except, it seemed, when he was with Lydia.
He glanced up the road and his eyes fell on the form of a lady standing on the grass with her maid. For a moment, his heart leapt, for he thought certain it was Lydia herself. But then the lady turned and he jolted again as he recognized the too-tight chignon, the spectacles perched on a fine nose.
“Great God!” he called out as he slowed his horse to a stop and swung down. “Lady Adelaide.”
She gasped as he stepped toward her and then glanced over her shoulder into the grassy area. Her maid met her eyes and then she smiled as she stepped away a step or two. Close enough to call them chaperoned, far enough that they could talk.
“Your Grace,” Adelaide said, her tone a bit breathless. “I-I did not expect to see you here.”
“I haven’t ridden in the park for some time,” he admitted. “Too many eyes, rather like a ball. But I needed air today. I needed to think.”
She turned her face away slightly. “I see.”
“What brings you out?” he asked. “You aren’t alone, are you?”
Her lips pursed slightly and a look of resignation crossed her face. He found he didn’t like the change. It made him want to…fixwhatever was bothering her somehow.
A ridiculous notion.
Adelaide glanced over her shoulder again. “My aunt likes to take a walk in the park each day at this time. Often she insists I join her, though she finds any excuse to walk off from me.”
Graham followed her line of vision and saw a rather severe-looking woman standing in a group of other ladies, talking. Her blonde hair was streaked with gray and she was almost rail-thin. Despite that, he could see a bit of Adelaide in her, though he far preferred his companion to her aunt.
“How long have you lived with her?” he asked, finding himself truly interested in the answer, not just making small talk.
Adelaide sucked in a breath, almost imperceptible except that he was so entirely focused on her in that moment. Then she said, “My parents died when I was ten. I’ve lived with my aunt ever since.”
There was a pain in her voice that was so palpable that it stung him. It sounded like his own pain when it came to those he’d lost.
“How?” he asked softly. “If you don’t mind sharing.”
She stared up at him for what felt like a lifetime, and he could see she was trying to decide if she should tell him. If she trusted him. If he was playing a game with her, as she had accused him of the night he’d danced with her at the ball.
“A fever,” she said at last. “He first, she a few days later.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it with all his heart. “Losing one parent is hard enough. To lose two that you loved…” He trailed off, and now she looked at him more closely. Like she could see he was a kindred spirit in loss. Which, of course, he was. He could also see her desire to press him more on the subject. His body clenched and he turned away. “Fine weather we’re having.”
She hesitated and then nodded. “Indeed. I’ve never seen an autumn so fine. I suppose it is why all the peacocks are out on display. Soon the rain and cold will force them back indoors where they can only preen in time to music.”
He laughed at her dry judgment. “You have a fine view on those of our class.”
She shrugged. “When one observes from afar, I suppose one cannot help but judge. Perhaps I’m too harsh.”
“No, I think you’re spot on. We’re all trained to display, as you say.” He shook his head. “It does get tiresome. To always be…performing.”
She caught her breath a second time, and when he looked at her, her eyes were wide beneath her spectacles and her hands trembled ever so slightly at her sides. He might have asked her about it, for the reaction took him aback, but before he could, she glanced over her shoulder once more.
“Oh, bollocks, here she comes,” she muttered.
