My laughter made him relax, and he seemed unbothered that we stood so close, that there was no beginning or ending to our shadows. If anyone saw, there would be no doubts now. We were together, and that niggling feeling that Lord Mark was only pretending to be comfortable with me, a girl of a lower station, from the other side of the Thames, went away.
“Mark? What do you call the little fellow?”
“A tit.”
Blinking, I backed away. “Excuse me?”
“Not a teat. Not you, yours. Hmmm. The tit. It’s the bird. Oh, my goodness, never noticed. Well, I did notice.” He wiped at his mouth, then pointed. “It’s a yellow-and-green tit. That’s what it’s called.”
His brows rose. “I’d never call you tit or any kind of saucy woman.”
When I started to giggle, he released his breath.
“Sort of a tit for tat, my lord. I know you’d not be disrespectful. You’re a gentleman.”
“I am, but I do sometimes wonder what it would be like to be a rake or rakish. Dashing as Lord Byron—I wonder if that would make the notes flow.”
“You, a rake?” I shook my head. “No, not you.”
His face darkened, then he heaved a little sigh and turned his face to the sky. “Perhaps that’s why you kissed me. I radiate safe and boring.”
Did the sentiment of being kind hurt his feelings? Hewaskind. Ididfeel safe with him. “Then I’m the same, for I’m enjoying this walk.”
“I’d like to think, if we’d met under different circumstances, that we’d be friends.”
“We are friends now. Well, that’s what I feel.” I adjusted my bonnet and spun to the right. Didn’t fully catch him saying the same.
“You are a puzzle, Georgina. One I enjoy figuring out. Yes, we’re friends. And I like when you’re bold, when you’re funny, and when you are shy around everyone but me.”
“I’m not shy around my sisters or the duke. Little Lydia definitely wouldn’t call me that.”
He lightly put his fingers to my chin, turning my gaze to his, then tilting my head. Mark slipped the scope into my hand again. “Take another look before he flies away, and then we’ll continue our walk.”
The little fellow squawked, and then flew away. I handed him back the scope. “I see why you love bird-watching.”
Part genius, part recluse, part nature lover, and from the kiss I was desperate to remember—a lover’s lover. Mark held out his arm and escorted me among the tattling plane trees, showing me more birds. His attentive gaze and our shared laugh almost made me forget about the couples we met along the way, walking or in carriages, who stopped and stared.
Chapter 20
MARK—BUMPING INTOBIRDIES
The retrieved pocket scope in my palm felt heavy but not as weighty or as frigid as the stares I received accompanying Miss Wilcox into Hyde Park’s brush. Her questions, her gentle laugh made me forget the annoyances and absorb the beauty of the grounds. This London treasure was green and—unlike last year, the coldest in a century—lush with flowers. Azaleas and bluebells put pops of pink and blue everywhere.
The abundant nectar called to the birds and this bird-watcher. My usual secondary habit, of viewing the season’s fairest maidens strolling with their mamas or newest suitors, was something I abandoned. Why stray with a goddess on my arm, no matter how safe or boring she thought I was.
She sighed with pleasure as I showed her another red-chested robin.
Was it odd to enjoy the sounds she made? She was an instrument, like a beautiful harp, but one meant not only to be admired but listened to, sought out, and loved.
It wasn’t the first time notions of deeper feelings for Georgina Wilcox crossed my mind, my heart. It was why I didn’t appease my mother. Even if this was a false romance, the time I spent admiring Georgina was true.
Something about being my own man made me want a woman who understood what that meant. The complexity and precarious nature of my position could only be sympathetic to someone who in her own way had taken a stance, rebelled, and now lived with the consequences.
“Lord Mark, I’ve always loved the outdoors. I walk along the Thames. The duke has come with me too.”
Oh. Torrance. Helpful Torrance. “What is it you both like about walking near the Thames? The smell of sulfur. The crowd of boats.”
“We . . . well, I like to listen to the water.”
