Page 42 of Give Him a Chance

Chapter Eight

May 17, 1841

“And you’re sureyou don’t want to stay here?”

“It’s just a walk, Lucy—Lady Lucy.” Bernard cleared his throat, doing his best not to notice that Cawthorne had noticed how he’d spoken to the daughter of the house in such a manner.

Affectionately.

It was not exactly a crime, but it might just as well have been, the way the butler was glaring from across the hallway as Lucy—as Lady Lucy, he quickly adjusted even in his own mind—twirled a lock of dark hair that framed her face around her finger and a footman handed him his hat.

Well. Her father’s hat.

“I just want to stretch my legs, that’s all,” continued Bernard, doing his best to sound distant and polite when all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and be most unpolite. “Forgive me for saying this, but staying cooped up in here, resplendent as it is… Well, it’s a tad like a prison.” He grinned. “And I know what I’m talking about.”

It was a terrible joke, and he wasn’t surprised that Lucy rolled her eyes instead of laughing. “I am so sorry for imprisoning you in this gilded cage!”

“Apology accepted,” Bernard quipped, ramming the hat on his head and wishing to goodness he could invite her to come with him.

Lucy did not look convinced. She was biting her lip in a way that brought his attention to her mouth, and he didn’t really need the excuse. “But it could be dangerous out there.”

“Dangerous? Brighton?” Bernard scoffed, without mentioning that yes, almost everywhere could be dangerous if one met with the wrong person. “From what I’ve observed, don’t you sometimes go out unaccompanied yourself? You, alady, in far more danger than I?”

Her mouth gaped. “I usually take a carriage.”

“But I see you won’t deny that you’re sometimes out without a chaperone,” he said, chuckling. Cawthorne sniffed rather loudly and Bernard stopped. “It’s just a walk, Lucy. Lady Lucy.”

Blast.

The worry had caused a puckering furrow to appear on her brow. Bernard wanted to kiss it away, which would almost certainly cause a riot from Cawthorne, who was carefully pretending to stare straight ahead, despite his eyes constantly flickering toward Bernard.

And still they had not talked about the kiss.

He hadn’t expected to, yet every moment that passed without discussing it, Bernard felt a small part of himself fade away.

It had meant…everything. It had transformed his life, radically altered the direction he wanted it to take…and Lucy had said not a word about it.

“And you will come back, won’t you?”

Bernard’s heartstrings were tugged, even if she did not mean to.She wants me to come back.

Because whatever her stance on me being her ward or not, Judge Bonner put her in charge of me, obviously, he reminded himself sternly.For no other reason.

Reaching out to brush her cheek with her knuckles, Bernard barely remembered in time that such an actionwould be inadvisable—that, and the butler cleared his throat meaningfully.

“I am sorry to hear that your Cousin Benjamin has managed to get himself entangled in a scandal about a fight at the docks,” said the butler severely. “I am glad you Lindow Chancesdon’t do anything like that, Lady Lucy.”

Resolutely not looking at the man, Bernard smiled at the woman before him. “Don’t you worry. I’ll be back before dark. I just need to stretch my legs.”

Which is mostly true, he thought ominously as he stepped lightly down the steps before the Lindow townhouse. He thrust his hands into his pockets as he started to slowly walk down the street.

He did need to stretch his legs. He had forgotten, as one forgets over the years, just how sedentary the life of the nobility was. Lots of sitting around, plenty of standing around, but not very muchdoing.

But that was only the first reason why Bernard started to whistle loudly as he meandered down a randomly chosen street.

No, the most important reason was that Hovell had not written in days. Weeks. Months!

Fine, not months or every multiple weeks, Bernard corrected as he continued to whistle the national anthem as he slowed his pace. But the point was that Hovell was supposed to have made contact again, and he hadn’t. That meant something was wrong.