Her eyes widened and her lips parted again on a swift inhale, but before she could reply, he turned and walked away, tipping Lord Redington a jaunty nod as he went. It wasn’t until much later that he realized he’d completely forgotten to ask her about her reaction to his drawing of the necklace.
Chapter Eight
Eleanor walked alongthe path through Hyde Park, Bridget on her left, Lydia to her right. Since they were small, they’d arranged themselves this way, with Eleanor in the middle, flanked by the stronger, more confident girls. Throughout all their years together, her cousins had never required any explanation for how she felt out in the world. They’d just always known, instinctively, that she required a certain buffer between herself and others, and had readily stepped in to fulfill that role. Lydia with an attitude that projected a blatant, bored annoyance that quickly put off many who considered approaching. And Bridget with a gift for enthusiastic distraction, always willing to take focus upon herself.
Over the years, the trio had settled quite comfortably into their chosen positions, which is how Eleanor managed to truly enjoy a walk through the park, even though the exceptionally lovely weather had drawn out more than the usual crowd. In truth, there seemed to be people everywhere—strolling, trotting along on horseback, and rolling by in open carriages.
If not for her stern-faced older brother insisting upon providing escort when a groom would have done just as well, it might have been a perfect outing.
“Oh, look,” Bridget exclaimed softly. “Is that Lady Delia?”
With a tremor of subtle alarm, Eleanor followed her cousin’s gaze to a small clutch of people gathered slightly off the path. She’d come tounderstand that where his young niece was, Lord Waring was sure to be nearby. It took a moment to see Lady Delia chatting happily with a few young gentlemen. Her mother, Countess of Byrne, stood nearby with the Countess Henmere whose niece, Miss Dickson, was another few steps away in conversation with the viscount, himself.
Though a bit older than most debutantes, Miss Dickson was also enjoying her first London social season. Eleanor didn’t know much about her beyond the fact that she was very new to town. It had taken only one glance to notice Miss Dickson possessed the kind of self-assurance Eleanor could only dream of having.
Finally, allowing her gaze to slide toward Lord Waring, Eleanor noticed with a sharp jolt to the center of her chest that he was already staring in her direction, observing her approach with pleasure curving his lips.
She quickly averted her gaze, doing her best to act as though she hadn’t seen him. But she couldn’t shake the certainty that he and Miss Dickson had been discussingher.
Indignant embarrassment burned through her veins.
She knew people talked about her, gossip being one of the haute ton’s favorite pastimes, but that didn’t make it a pleasant experience to witness it happening.
As the two groups converged and paused to chat a while, Eleanor was determined to avoid acknowledging the viscount. She and her cousins joined Lady Delia and the young gentlemen. Though Bridget and Lydia spoke easily with the other young people, Eleanor stood silent, putting all her effort into keeping her awkwardness firmly managed.
Unfortunately, because she was not fully engaged with the others, there was nothing she could do when the viscount stepped up beside her and gave a short bow.
“Lady Eleanor, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” He lowered his voice so only she could hear. “As previously promised, I won’t evenmention how this rare bit of sunshine becomes you.”
Instantly thrown off balance by the rich, intimate tenor of his voice, the sparkle of undeniable admiration in his eyes, and his obvious teasing, she struggled to find a proper reply.
It didn’t help that the sunshine undeniably agreed with him as well. The man made an unnaturally dashing impression in his more casual day attire.
His skin, bronzed by what had to have been significant prior exposure to the warm rays of the sun, contrasted nicely with his loosely tied white cravat and buff-colored coat. Combined with the way his hair had been slightly mussed by the breeze, the overall effect was carefree and rakish. The subtle wickedness in his smile and the twinkle of humor in his light eyes, which the sun now revealed to be a rather unique hue of blue-green, only added to his brazen charm and cocksure handsomeness.
Her low belly gave an odd tumble and dip before she gathered herself tightly together.
She didnotwant to think him handsome. She did not want to enjoy his smile or the way he looked at her. She had seen that look before, in the eyes of gentlemen who approached her in admiration only to walk away in distress and disappointment when she failed to meet the exalted expectations they’d conjured in their minds about what she should be like. She’d grown to hate the moment when people realized she had nothing to offer but awkward tension and stuttering silences.
Heaven forbid that a woman with a fashionable face wouldn’t have a perfectly sparkling personality to match.
Eleanor clenched her back teeth. The viscount was still smiling at her—with frustrating patience—as though he were fully aware that he disconcerted her. He probably even recognized that he annoyed her. But he wasn’t at all bothered by it.
Instead, he quirked a smile. “Now, you may compliment me, ifyou wish. Or make some answering reference to the loveliness of the day,” he added, turning to gesture toward the spacious lawns of the park.
She arched a brow. “You think I need advice on how to engage in small talk?”
His chuckle was warm and low and rolled through her like a warm zephyr. “It was just a suggestion. We could discuss something more consequential, if you’d like.”
Meeting his bright stare, she said, “Does it occur to you that I may not wish to engage in conversation at all?”
“It did. But I immediately discounted it.” The look in his eyes was impishly wicked. “Ladiesloveto engage with me.”
Eleanor’s belly twisted. She got a sense he was talking about more than conversation. She’d never been spoken to with such boldness. It disconcerted her, leaving her at a loss. She opened her mouth to say something chastising, realized there were no words readily available, shut her mouth again, then glanced stiffly away.
But he didn’t allow even that escape. His warm voice murmured, “You can let yourself enjoy it, you know.”
She turned back to find him standing closer than he should be. “Enjoy what?”
