“Not particularly.”
“Animals?”
“They make me sneeze.”
“Horseback riding?”
Derrick’s brows drew together. “I was bucked off a pony when I was seven and broke my arm. Haven’t met a horse I trusted since. Is that goose staring at me in a threatening manner or is it just me?”
She glanced at Augustus whose beady black eyes were trained unblinkingly on the duke as he extended his long neck and gave a loud honk. “He probably senses that you’re not my true love,” she mumbled under her breath, disappointment curdling in her stomach like cream that had turned the day prior.
“Pardon?” Derrick queried politely, having gone very, very still.
“Isaidthat he must sense you’re not my true love.”
“That’s what I thought you said.”
“Now I have to keep searching and I’ve already wasted an hour.” Belatedly recalling the manners Becca had drilled into her, Annalise dropped into a quick, perfunctory curtsy. “If you would excuse me, Your Grace, I must be on my way before my companion catches up. I’ve much to do and little time to do it in.”
She started to walk past him, angling her body to the side so that she could slip by without stepping off the path and soiling her dress, completely oblivious to the streaks of mud that were already there. She let out a gasp when Derrick’s arm shot out and caught her, his large hand curling possessively around her waist as he effectively halted in her in her tracks.
“Are youhusbandhunting, Lady Annalise?” he asked, those dark, dark eyes traveling slowly down her frame before settling on her face with a searing intensity that made her blush return tenfold.
“I…I suppose you could call it that.” By her count, there were five layers of clothing between the duke’s hand and her waist. His glove, her pelisse, gown, petticoat, and shift. How, then, did she feel his fingers like a hot brand against her skin? “I…I am looking for love. True love.”
“And you hope to find it in Hyde Park?”
“I thought it would be a good place to start.”
Derrick scratched his jaw. “Very well. I’ll help you.”
Annalise’s eyes widened. “You’ll… you’llhelpme?”
“Yes.” His broad shoulder lifted in a negligent shrug. “It’s not as if I have anything better to do. What sort of chap are we seeking? Someone titled and wealthy, I presume.”
Did he realize that his arm was still wrapped around her ribcage and he was holding her far closer to his body than a man ought to have held a woman that was not his wife? Or was he so accustomed to physical intimacy that their position was immaterial to him? Regardless, she couldn’tpossiblyentertainhis offer to accompany her on her search for a potential husband.
Could she?
“Title and wealth are notunimportant,” she acknowledged. “I should like to have children, and be able to provide for them without worry. But it is the quality of a man’s character that matters most.”
“What sort of qualities should this man have?”
“Well, he must be kind,” she said, repeating herself from earlier in the day. “Chivalrous.”
“Chivalrous?” Derrick’s brow lifted.
“Chivalrous,” she confirmed with a decisive nod. “A man that I can love but also one that I can admire.”
“So he must be handsome.”
“Yes. I mean no.” How red, she wondered, could a person’s cheeks turn before they caught fire? “I mean, I should like to find him, ah, attractive. But on the inside as well as the out.”
“I presume by your questions that he should also have an affinity for poetry, dancing, and animals.”
“That is my hope.”
“Excellent,” Derrick declared, finally lowering his arm and gesturing for her to proceed him down the path. “Then we’ll start by looking for a lord the exactoppositeof me.”
