Delia nodded, belated realizing he might not be able to see her. “I imagine in polite society, if Lord Crenshaw behaved thusly, he would find himself on the other side of a slammed door more often than not,” she agreed.
“Indeed,” Lord Perish agreed.
“By the way, I’m offering you my arm, my lady. We should return to the lit part of the garden.”
She hadn’t noticed in the darkness. Moreover, while Delia had no reason to believe this man was any safer than her dining companion, quite irrationally, she trusted him. Thus, she rested her hand upon his sleeve.
“Oh!”she exclaimed. Their first touch, and it was remarkable.
She almost asked him if he felt it —swift heat that sizzled where they connected. Luckily, she held her tongue. She had not touched many men, except for at a few dances. While she’d never felt a tingle before, perhaps it was a common occurrence among the opposite sex. Otherwise, surely Lord Perish would have mentioned it.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“Not at all. I was merely thinking how I would have been perfectly content to spend the next hour sniffing roses if I hadn’t been interrupted.”
“My apologies on behalf of Crenshaw.”
“Nuisance of a man,” Delia said unkindly.
“Worse than that, if rumors are true. Even if they’re false, you ought not to be wandering alone.”
“I know,” Delia agreed. “I got excited when I heard the wordgardens.”
“Did you?”
Was he laughing at her?
She bit her tongue before saying, “I only meant I welcomed the invitation to explore after being cooped up in the carriage and at dinner. I relish the freedom of the outdoors.”
“On that, we can agree,” he said. “I am most at ease riding one of my horses through the countryside.”
“Thus, Lord Crenshaw’s barb?”
“Barb?” Lord Perish repeated. “Oh, the hooves remark. I suppose I am known for my admiration of horseflesh. Splendid animals. I’m often the first one at Tattersall’s when a new prancer arrives. Crenshaw was irked because I outbid him on a plum pony last week. A poor sport!”
Having spent little time around horses, Delia had no opinion on them, plum or otherwise.
“I am not certain I care for the quality of Lady Osbourne’s choice of guests,” Lord Perish added. “And I don’t mean only Crenshaw. I had a particularly disagreeable dinner partner.”
“I wouldn’t be so hard on our hostess. She is trying to help people find love.”
Lord Perish grunted. “Is that what you think? I have heard she has a far more mercenary reason for all these generous house parties.”
“She wants to be the best matchmaker in England,” Delia said. “Some say she already is.”
“And some say she isn’t. I heard that she and her cousin have a wager going on, with the stakes being a tiara both are equally desperate to own. Best matchmaker wins.”
Delia considered this. “That changes nothing about guests finding their heart’s true love.”
Ignoring her words, he said, “We should walk toward the house, and the next time you go dashing into the dark, you must have a reliable companion. The woman from the carriage. Who is she?”
“My cousin. She is married and thus kindly acting as my chaperone.”
“A damn poor one, I must say. Crenshaw might have pressed his intention, and if I hadn’t come upon you, it would have been a dreadful start to this house party.”
“I suppose,” Delia said, pondering the ramifications. “Although I might have been sent home, which would have been a blessing.”
“In disguise?” he quipped.
