Squaring his shoulders and adjusting his cravat, he set off down the path from whence he’d come, following the noise of contended honks. A scathing warning already heating the tip of his tongue, he marched around the corner… and stopped short, startled by the sight that awaited him.
Not a stooped old woman at all, but a young lady. His age, perhaps a few years less. With hair the color of sunshine peeking out from beneath the brim of a violet bonnet that complimented the rosy pink of her high arching cheekbones with the most adorably upturned nose he’d ever seen.
She was crouched on her heels, apparently not caring that the hem of her pelisse and dress dress were being dragged through the muck. A small white feather was caught in her curls. As he watched, frozen in place by some unnamed force that had temporarily rendered his vocal chords useless, she reached out andpattedthe biggest barnacle goose on its hideously ugly head. Making a purring sound deep in its throat - who the devil knew that geese could purr - the blasted bird leaned into her hand, rubbing his feathers against her gloved palm, and was he… was that… was that a flicker of jealousy he felt? That the damned goose, named after a crustacean found on the hull of old sailing vessels, was being touched by the fair-haired corn maiden with the musical laugh while he, the Duke of Tennyson, was made to stand by and watch.
Impossible.
Intolerable.
Obviously, all of the brandy he’d imbibed over the past few years had started to get the best of him. He was going mad. Even his heart was beating faster than it usually did.
“Pardon me,” he said curtly as his voice abruptly returned on a wave of thinly concealed ire. “Are you aware that you are feeding dangerous animals, and in doing so encouraging them to seek out food from unsuspecting patrons of the park ill-equipped to handle their ferocious natures?”
The lady jumped.
The goose hissed.
Derrick took a step back.
Just to be safe.
“Oh my goodness,” she cried, clasping a hand over her heart as she rose to her feet. “You startled me! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was there. What do you mean, dangerous animals?” A frown tugged at her bottom lip when her head swiveled from side to side. “Where are they?”
He gestured at the geese. “You’refeedingthem, as I said.”
“Are you referring to Augustus, Marcus, and Constantine?” Wide blue eyes framed with thick tawny lashes met his incredulously. “Why, they wouldn’t hurt a fly!”
“Don’t geeseeatflies?” He put his hands on his hips while he awaited her response… even as his traitorous gaze dropped to her mouth. She really was a lovely little thing. All innocence, rainbows, and unicorns in comparison to the dark, sultry temptresses he usually kept company with. Temptresses that had, as of late, inexplicably failed to arouse him. A fault he didn’t place at their feet, but his own. He’d simply grown weary of the transactional nature of his past relationships. Not that he’d ever paid for a woman to occupy his bed. Not outright in money, that is. But he also wasn’t stupid. He knew they’d been there not because of who he was, butwhathe was: a duke with nearly unlimited wealth and power at his disposal.
Yet here was a lady not prowling the hallways of a gambling hell seeking out her next mark, but throwing corn to geese. Admittedly savage geese that likely would have ripped out hisjugular if he’d let them, but still. There was a certain appeal in her innocence. A quiet tug of genuine attraction that he hadn’t experienced since… well, maybe ever.
“You’re right,” she conceded, “geesedoeat flies. Although, they much prefer grass and aquatic plants. However, they do love corn on occasion as well. Would you like to give it a go?” Fist closed, she held out her arm expectantly.
Derrick stared at it.
“Did you miss the part where I said they have ferocious natures?” he wondered aloud. “I value all ten of my fingers, thank you very much.”
There was that laughter again. It washed over him like a warm wave at the peak of sunset when the sky was a thousand different shades of orange and the surf unfurled itself upon the shore in frothy laps of white.
“Don’t be silly!” she exclaimed. “Marcus and Constantine would never dare bite. Not even so much as a nibble. Sometimes Augustus gets a little excited, but it won’t hurt. I promise.”
Against his better judgment, Derrick accepted the corn. “You do realize you’ve named them after Roman emperors responsible for thousands of brutal slayings.”
Those blue eyes blinked at him, shimmering pools of indigo that threatened to pull him right in. “I rather thought they were regal names. I’m sorry they’re not to your liking.”
And now why did he feel as if he’d kicked a small, defenseless kitten?
“I do like them,” he said gruffly. “They’re excellent names.” Turning his hand over, he dumped the small pile of corn she’d given him unceremoniously onto the ground.
She sighed. “Not likethat. Here, let me show you.”
Derrick’s heart started beating even faster when she placed another small pile of corn into his palm, but this time she slidher hand down to gently hold his wrist while she plucked a kernel from his grasp and threw it several feet away.
“There, you see?” she said brightly as Marcus, at least he thought it was Marcus, waddled eagerly after the tiny treat. “They prefer it when you make a game out of it.”
“Yes, I see,” Derrick murmured, except he wasn’t looking at the goose. “You’ve told me your pet’s names, but not your own.”
“Oh, they aren’t my pets,” she said, quite seriously. “They live here, in the park. I just come and visit them once in a while.”
