She sighed again. “Loads. I usually rewrite a letter two or three times. I worry, I’ll have you know.”
He smiled—but only a little. “Do you? I admit that I was quite taken aback after our first meeting.”
“You intruded upon my peace,” she explained, as if that it excused everything.
“You had word I was coming. It’s not as if I surprised you.”
“But I had my weekplanned. And then when you were thrust upon me, I had to change everything. I dislike having to rewrite my social calendar. I was out of sorts for several days.”
“Several days? I was there for perhaps a quarter of an hour, just long enough to drink a dreadful cup of tea.” He caught himself. He should not have called her tea dreadful. “I beg your pardon, madam, for my candor regarding the tea. I got ahead of myself.”
“It is dreadful, I know,” she sighed. “It is one of my frugalities, you see. I try to keep within a clear budget, and tea can be rather expensive. As is sugar, you know.”
Beckett nodded, as if he indeed did know, though he had no idea. He didn’t know what his household budget was. The housekeeper had kept those accounts for him, and he didn’t bother inquiring. He trusted her to know how to run the household better than he did. Though it did occur to Beckett that Mrs. Reid likely kept a very tight and tidy household, and that every shilling would be accounted for in excruciating detail.
“That’s an admirable thing, to keep to a budget. I would say most people like to go over.”
“It’s an easy indulgence,” Mrs. Reid said. “An extra book or night at the opera.”
Beckett couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Why are you laughing?” she demanded.
“Because for most people, an overbudget indulgence would be a new hat, or a new frock. Not anextrabook.”
“How many books do you allocate for in a given month?”
Beckett shook his head. “I view books as discretionary spending.”
Her eyes widened at the idea, scandalized into silence. If there were ever a way to tempt the woman to the devil’s side, it would be through a book. He laughed again.
“You just—” she almost choked on the words. “—buy whatever you want, whenever you want?”
Beckett nodded. “But I don’t want to give you the impression I am profligate. I value a good balance so that when my nephew inherits the estate, he will have plenty of money to maintain it.”
She looked at him with a curious expression that he could not read.
“What is it?” He swatted the air thinking there might be a bug, feeling the heat of a blush trying to rise. He tamped it down. The last time he blushed was years ago.
Mrs. Reid shook her head, not wanting to speak again. They walked on in silence, encountering birds, a stray cat, and what appeared to be a pack of squirrels. People were few and far between, and none of them were there to be social, using the park to cut through to another area of London on foot.
As they started to head back towards the entrance they had used, Mrs. Reid spoke again. “This is the second time today that I have taken my exercise in the park.”
“You walk here in the morning?” Beckett asked.
“Of course. It is well-known that there are benefits to a regular and vigorous exercise.”
Beckett waited to see if they would further discuss the topics of those benefits. However, she clamped her mouth shut and refused to speak more. They lapsed into silence once again. Clearly it was Beckett’s turn to carry the conversation. “Are you not afraid of dastardly footpads? There have been many accounts of attacks.”
Why he chose to discuss something untoward, he had no idea. Better to congratulate the lady on her discipline, rather than malign her sense of safety, but here he was, stuck with what had come out of his mouth. But if he were a lady, he would be afraid. Beckett did not generally stroll with a weapon, though he knew men who did. He was sufficiently tall and angry looking that he was not usually trifled by thieves.
“I have heard of those accounts, which is why I always take Jacobs with me. I would never go alone.” Mrs. Reid spoke as if this was a rote response.
He wondered how many other things she did without care for her safety. It made him uncomfortable to think of her strolling in the park in the early hours of the morning. “Even still.” The thought was like a pebble in the shoe. “You are a singular target.”
“I am very vigilant,” she assured him, as if placating a child.
“I don’t doubt that. But you are a small woman, and while Jacobs is no doubt adroit, surely this is not wise.” The more he thought about it, the more unsettled he became. What if something happened to her? Even something as minor as a robbery could change a person. And what if it were worse and they accosted her person?
