“Oh yes. He is not a favorite.”
A pause.
She waited, wondering if he would state some purpose.
She tried, “You must not have been long behind us. I’m... I’m sorry we left with no word. It never occurred to me you would wish to... to...”
“I wanted to see you. After the viscountess had gone.”
The conversation idled again.
She wanted to ask himwhyhe wanted to see her, but surely this was his conversation to lead.
“So this is bird-watching?” he finally said. “Have you room on that stump for me?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Drewsmina Trelayne’s Rule of Style and Comportment #28: There is no corner or enclosure in the out-of-doors that is entirely secluded from view. If you believe yourself to be alone and unseen in a park or forest, you are mistaken. Behave accordingly.
There was very little room on the stump, but Drew edged sideways as far as she could, collecting her skirts. He dropped beside her in a smooth, athletic movement, and leaned back on his palms. This position left them hip against hip, thigh to thigh.
He’d worked up a sweat, she realized, riding to find her. She could feel the heat from his body. He smelled like wind, and saddle leather, and that musky scent that was distinctivelyhim.
He’d extended his legs; his boots, ruined now from mud, stretched long in front of them. He crossed them at the ankles, and removed his hat, tossing it to the side.
“And now we’ll be motionless and quiet and wait for the beasts to descend?” he asked.
She chuckled. “If we’re lucky.”
He nodded, breathing deeply. He exhaled.
He did not, for all that, seem to harbor a burning indictment about her mother’s visit. Nor did he seem primed to pepper her with questions. He seemed . . . sleepy. Content. Behind her on the stump, he slid his gloved hand ever so closer to her bottom, his arm now half behind her. If she leaned back, his arm would cross her back. If she leaned sideways, she would fit against his ribs.
She did neither, sitting perfectly upright on the stump.Herstump. The stump on which she’d perched alone a hundred times; except now she was not alone.
“You began bird-watching as a child, did you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Oh no. Only these last five years. Before, when I was—” She cleared her throat.
“Before,” she amended, “I would never have considered an activity so sedentary and devoid of... well of any contribution from me. In bird-watching, you say nothing and give nothing. You simply wait and allow it to unfold before you. I have, in my early years, struggled to both wait and to... allow for things to unfold.”
“So difficult to envision,” he mused. “You have this natural sort of... calmness. An evenness. The girls would try anyone’s patience, yet you manage them with such placid... acceptance.”
She smiled. “Whether it comes naturally, I cannot say; it’s more like... what I longed for as a child. I think of how I was treated and endeavor to do the opposite. It does cheer me to learn itcomes off naturally, as you say. That’s the worry, isn’t it? That I appear forced, that I am ‘putting on.’”
She dipped her head and continued, “My mother’s favorite new jab is to say that I live a life of posed artifice. Honestly, I cannot account for my personality. I am nothing like my mother—my primary effort. I did not know my father; he died when I was very young. I am not the girl I used to be, so... who am I? The princess—Cynde—has been a great example to me, but I know I’m nothing like her.”
“Perish the thought,” he said, inching his hand closerto her hip. “She’s perfectly lovely, but a bit liketoy doll, don’t you think? Exactly what Adolphus requires, obviously, but—” He made a disgusted noise that was part exhale, part snort. Drew smothered a laugh.
How good it felt to sit here, she thought, in one of her favorite places, with him, talking of people they knew. How many couples had she observed from this very vantage point, hidden from view? She came for the birds but saw plenty of humans on the path on the other side of the pond. Families, friends, and couples—so many couples. Old couples, young couples, illicit couples, strangers, even, who’d met on a path and exchanged some look, some friendly word, some touch—and always she’d thought,Oh, well. Good for you.
Without rancor, she’d thought,Thereis love in the world and we are all better for it. Not for me, of course, but at least I am without hate.
Ifnow... today...Drew wanted more than an exchanged look and a friendly word and some touch—if she wanted more than to sit and laugh with this man—well, she was only human.
But she could also be happy here, now, withthis.
From nowhere, Lachlan offered, “I’m nothing like my father. This was a rather painful reality to me very early on.”
