“I doubt your hat will make it up there,” she said, coming to the same conclusion as he had.
Agreeing, he set it down on the bench beside her and shrugged out of his coat and began to scrunch it into a round shape.
“But your coat might get soiled with pigeon droppings,” she said. “There must be dung all over the rafters. You had best use your footwear as I did.”
Greer sat down next to her and removed his new square-toed half-boots.
“Those are nice,” she remarked.
“Thank you. I’m quite fond of them.”
She laughed. “I don’t think it will get damaged.”
He rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t simply stay at the picnic and have a cup of tea with everyone else.”
Feeling odd to be standing out in public with one stockinged foot, he aimed at her boot and let his own fly. It knocked hers off the wooden beam to drop perfectly at his feet, while his own went sailing out the opening between the roof and the beams. He watched his boot hit the grass outside and roll heel-over-toe toward the river.
“Oh!” Beatrice exclaimed. “I think you threw it with a bit too much enthusiasm, Mr. Carson.”
He glanced at her, seeing an expression of mirth upon her pretty face. Bending, he picked up her boot and placed it on the floor in front of her.
“I’ll be right back.” He dashed out of the gazebo, thinking it felt strange indeed to feel grass under his stocking.
Luckily, his boot had stopped short of entering the Thames, lying on its side at the water’s edge. Picking it up, Greer turned back to the gazebo, raising it in triumph. Then he saw Lady Emily and their hostess, as well as Miss Charlotte and two strangers. They’d approached from the other side and now watched as he strolled back up the bank on one boot, hatless, and in his shirtsleeves.
Miss Charlotte’s eyes were wide. “Were you going to take a swim, Mr. Carson?”
“No, I had to retrieve my boot,” he said.
Lady Emily’s expression was guarded. “Without your coat and hat, sir?”
Beatrice appeared at the gazebo’s railing. “He kindly retrieved my boot,” she explained, and Greer knew she’d made the situation even more opaque.
“Because of the pigeons,” she added, gesturing behind her to where there were obviously no birds at all. Even more damning, she held his jacket and his hat. To his way of thinking, it appeared as though he’d stripped off in her presence, which he had.
Hurrying the rest of the way, he reclaimed his belongings.
“Thank you, Mr. Carson,” she said, after handing them to him. With that, she took hold of Charlotte’s arm and walked away, their two male companions in tow.
“Will you be all right, Lady Emily, if I leave you and get back to the other guests?” Lady Gravens asked, eyeing him warily as he doffed his hat and began slipping his arms into his coat sleeves.
Greer watched the earl’s daughter hesitate. “Yes, I believe I will,” she said at last.
Of course she would!Greer wanted to laugh at their silly dramatics, but he dared not. Strangely, he never felt any compunction to behave inappropriately with the earl’s daughter the way he did with Beatrice.
In any case, he bowed to Lady Gravens as she took her leave. If his toffee-maker had still been standing there, he might have made mention of a certain dried fruit, specifically a prune, but with Lady Emily, he remained serious.
“You came to find me?” he asked. He should feel flattered.Why didn’t he?
“Naturally. I didn’t expect to see you in that state of undress. However, I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation.”
Did he owe her one?“I was helping Miss Rare-Foure to get her boot out of the gazebo’s rafters. But the story is so inconsequential, I think we should leave it at that.”
He hadn’t been caught with Beatrice’s skirts up and his trousers down, for goodness sake. Recalling how he’d held her close and nearly kissed her, however, he thought he’d best add something.
“I was undecided as to whether to use my own boot, hat, or coat as a projectile.”
“That makes perfect sense,” Lady Emily said. “I appreciate your gentlemanly manner in assisting her.”
