“Very well, then. We shall continue.”
They reached a bend where the promenade opened toward the river. The light struck the water, bright enough to make her squint. A woman approached, her expression polite and alert.
“Your Grace. We did not expect to see you here today.”
“I am full of surprises,” he said.
Her eyes lingered on Margaret.
“My apologies, I seem to have forgotten your name.”
Margaret knew it was a slight. The woman recognized her, she could see it in her face, but she wanted to remind Margaret who she was; nobody, especially not in comparison with the Duke of Ravensmere.
“This is Miss Margaret Fairleigh.”
The Duke had responded for her, and it was a warning. The woman smiled, thinly from the response she had received.
“How very pleasant. We are all enjoying the weather.”
“So are we,” the duke said. “Now, if you will excuse us…”
They moved on, and she studied his face. It was perfectly neutral, as though nothing at all had happened.
“You do not seem bothered by the stares,” she commented.
“I am used to them,” he said. “They change when I am with you, but that is all that is different.”
“And if they decide you are foolish?”
“Then they will be wrong,” he said. “It is that simple, Miss Fairleigh.”
They walked past a family with two children tugging at their mother’s skirts. One of the children stared openly. Margaret smiled at the child before she could stop herself. The child hid behind the woman’s skirts and peeked out again, causing her to laugh brightly without thinking.
“See?” the duke said. “Not all eyes are sharp.”
“Some are,” Margaret said. “Most, I dare say.”
“Yes,” he said. “But we will not give those more weight than the others.”
They slowed near the water’s edge. The breeze lifted the hem of her dress. She felt steadier now, the initial rush of being seen easing.
“How did you know that I wanted to stop before?” she asked.
“It was easy to notice. Your breath was shallow, and you were holding your shoulders high. I will also note that you have not loosened your grip of my arm once.”
She glanced down, at last loosening it.
“Is that a problem?”
“No,” he said. “I rather like it, in fact. It tells me you are here.”
She let her shoulders drop. Her grip eased a little more.
“That is better, of course,” he said.
She shot him a look.
“You sound like my mother.”
