“You’re helping me, miss.”
He’d spoken at last. His voice was pleasant, midrange. He might even be able to carry a note, if he sang. “Well, let’s work together, sir, to help you.”
“Help me. Right.”
Hopping around like rabbits, we stepped on pages and chased others.
I grabbed the last. “I think we’ve done it.”
He set his pile on the bench, carefully weighting the loose papers with his books.
Then he clapped. “Thank you for this dance.”
Was that what he called this? The gentleman had a sense of humor. I offered him a curtsy. “Anytime you wish for a partner to stand up in a garden reel, find me.”
“You are easy to behold.”
This fellow came closer. Nice smile, nice dark, dark blue eyes. We were the same height. I didn’t feel too tall or too short, for the first time in a long time.
“You must think I’m silly. A grown man tripping over his tongue because a beautiful woman stands before him.”
His cheeks burned red. Mine began to heat. “Being shy can cause difficulties. And we haven’t met in a while . . . Lord Mark Sebastian.”
“You remembered.” His face was scarlet. “How kind when I know your life has changed greatly since last year. Is that why when I asked Torrance of you, he distracted me? He didn’t wish for me to intrude.”
This man asked of me? I felt my chest warm. The more he gaped, the more I became fire beneath my emerald coat.
And he was right.
Our circumstances had changed because of the duke’s influence, but Katherine’s hatred of him could cost us everything.
“You . . . you don’t have to answer. My friend Livingston said you’d meet me in the garden.” He took a big breath. “I can’t believe I’m talking to you. Can’t believe I managed more than a word.”
Not sure who Livingston was. As long as it wasn’t Katherine looking for me, I was indifferent. I glanced at Lord Mark Sebastian. “Last time we met you said barely anything.”
“Nothing but ‘gorgeous.’ ” He rubbed at his neck, then stood up straight. “Yes, you are, more than ever. It’s wrong for us to talk like this. To meet under my friend’s influence.”
What was he talking about? What friend?
If I questioned him, he’d probably become silent again. Nonsense words were better than none.
Nonetheless, I hated guessing what people thought. Katherine always made me figure things out. Her secrecy, all the hidden thoughts, caused problems.
He began to fix his crooked cravat. “I’m not sure what my friend has said to you, but I’m painfully shy. I’m not a libertine or a monk. I’ve had my share of broken hearts. My current circumstances don’t lend to suitability. Most women prefer a man of more means or a title in his own right. I’m a composer. Well, I’ve chosen to be one.”
When he got to talking, he did run on, but at least his gaze was upon me, and only me. That rarely happened if another Wilcox like Scarlett were around.
“You haven’t much experience, Miss Wilcox?”
“Not with mazes. I’ve never been in one. I sort of lost my way. Do you know where the mews—”
“Oh, must you go now? This was just to meet.” He whipped a hand through his brownish-black straight hair. “When shall I see you again?”
“You wish to see me again?”
Wiping his hands on a wilted handkerchief, he kept staring. “Yes. Yes, most definitely.”
He said this without hesitation. I liked that.
