“Ridiculous. I’ve only been in his company once. Which was enough, thank you,” she said under her breath. “A momentary lapse that any woman in his vicinity might experience. But he is deficient in character.”
Wandering over to the stand of trees Cerise had banished her to, Helen took shelter beneath the canopy of the largest, a majestic oak. Looking down at the water, she was surprised to see a row of tiny sails blowing in the breeze. She’d been expecting gentlemen in rowboats with their shirtsleeves rolled up, anxious to show off their masculinity, not what looked to be a fleet of tiny ships. Some of the boats had ribbons attached to them, favors she supposed, bestowed by a young lady. One vessel had a miniature pirate’s flag complete with skull and crossbones. The crowd clapped wildly as great bursts of laughter erupted near the shore.
Lowell, Cerise and Hester stood to one side and the earl was careful to keep them in clear view for Helen’s sake.
Hester clapped enthusiastically as a tall, ruddy gentleman pushed his boat into the water. Lowell whistled. Cerise as usual was posing, tilting her head so that her profile caught the sun to great effect.
“Grown men racing with tiny ships meant for children and decorated with ribbons. All in the hopes that later, they might be able to steal a kiss. What a stupid way to spend the day. My money is on the boat with the crimson ribbon, if you’d care to wager.”
Helen jolted at the sound of that whiskey-soaked rumble, feeling that delicious hum grow over her skin.
Roxboro. Here. In the park.
“I do not wager.” Helen kept her gaze firmly fixed on the boat race, ignoring the slight tremble of her body.
“Course you don’t. You’re much too prim. Don’t you get tired of it?”
“Tired, Your Grace?”
“The excessive primness. Must get old.”
Roxboro was directly behind her, making Helen’s spine buzz with his presence. “I’m not excessively prim.” She turned to face him, immediately wishing she hadn’t because, well, all the air left her lungs.
No man should be so…breathtaking. “Why are you in the park, Your Grace? Shouldn’t you have an entourage of footmen following you?”
“Ah, footmen.” He seemed confused for a moment. “I don’t need them to enjoy the park. The day is sunny. No rain that I can see. Flowers blooming. Small animals running about.” The side of his mouth tilted up in a half smile. “Rats and such.”
“Squirrels. And you don’t strike me as the sort to stop and smell the wildflowers. Nor do you walk about the park, only ride and fall off your horse. According to rumor.”
“You seem overly interested in my comings and goings, Miss Cosgrove.”
“I assure you I am not. That is common gossip.”
“Gossip.” He waved an elegant hand at her which is why Helen noticed he wasn’t wearing gloves. “Who listens?”
“Everyone.”
Sunlight streaming through the trees dappled his chiseled features, the green of his eyes nearly matching that of the leaves above. The small streaks of silver in their depths winked back at Helen roguishly while the wind tossed about his dark brown hair, batting at his cheeks and the edge of his nose with thatsmall freckle right at the end. There wasn’t so much as an imperfection in the duke.
No hat, her mind whispered.Why is he not wearing a hat?
“So you didn’t fall off your horse and wander over to these trees to hide your embarrassment?” Helen tilted her head, admiring the slash of his cheekbones and wondering why his valet didn’t shave him close enough.
“Is that any way to speak to a duke, Miss Cosgrove? There’s a boat race going on.” His eyes narrowed on the Serpentine briefly before returning to her.
“I suppose it isn’t. I’ve forgotten my manners, Your Grace.”
“Highly inappropriate for a lady’s maid. Prim but not proper.”
“Lady’scompanion,” she corrected. “And chaperone.”
He shrugged.
The cadence of his words had shifted again making him sound a great deal…more common, if that were even possible for a duke. Perhaps he spent time around tradesmen though she hadn’t a clue why he would. “Why are you here, Your Grace?”
“Apparently to fall off horses and then attempt to enjoy a collection of silly boats in the water. Do you see that one? Goodness, it will sink from the number of ribbons clustered atop the sail.” He regarded her with a raised brow. “But there is agnatbuzzing about.” He pretended to swat something away. “And my attention is diverted.”
Good lord he was somewhat…annoyingonce you got past all that masculine beauty. And much less ducal when not in attendance at a ball. “I meant,” she turned around beneath the copse of trees. “Here.”
