Page 51

To all outward appearances, Lenora was completely engrossed in her Gunter’s ice. In truth, she was surreptitiously studying Asquith.

He was as exasperatingly changeable as London’s weather. Just when she thought his gloom had finally lifted, another somber fog descended. Even if she could convince Asquith to marry, would she be forever battening hatches in preparation for continual storms?

When he’d suggested they refresh themselves with a stop at Gunter’s, she’d thought he had done so to send her a subtle reminder.

Last time, he’d brought her here to soothe and cheer her. They’d even had an intimate moment—that is, if one considered sharing an ice intimate, which she did.

He could have refused, after all.

But if he’d wanted to send her a message, why would he have taken his ice and gone to stand with Preston against the railing around the square, leaving her to Amelia, Lady Asquith, and Sir Brenton’s company?

“Sir Brenton,” Lady Asquith squinted through her lorgnette, “is that Thomas Creevey I see?”

“’Tis!” Sir Brenton set aside his plate. “Remarkable instinct you have. Would you like me to escort you over?”

“Are Dover’s cliffs white?” Lady Asquith chuckled. “He’s sure to have all the latest on dits.”

The carriage groaned as Sir Brenton descended, then protested again as he and Barker assisted Lady Asquith down.

Lenora shared a surreptitious smirk with Amelia.

Once the siblings had gone far enough so they could not hear, Amelia said, “I thought gossip a young person’s folly.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call what Godmama and her brother indulge in gossip—neither are mean-spirited.” But they did like talk, didn’t they? “I believe they gather information like some might gather currency, as a safeguard against difficult times.”

“A safeguard in difficult times.” Amelia tapped her spoon on the edge of her glass. “I’ll have to remember that.”

Lenora gazed over at the square. “What do you think Preston and Asquith are talking about?”

“Horses,” Amelia said.

At that moment, Asquith gestured toward a particularly regal-looking mare. Preston nodded along.

Horses. Lenora frowned. “They are utterly oblivious to our presence, aren’t they?”

“At the moment, yes. But I have a feeling if any one of that group of Corinthians walking across the square were to approach this carriage, they’d be back here in an instant.” Amelia paused. “May I ask you a question?”

“Anything in the world.” Lenora dug into her ice cream.

“Do you pine after your guardian?”

Her spoon froze partway to her mouth. She slanted Amelia a glance.

Lady Amelia’s lovely gray eyes laughed. “You did say I could ask anything in the world.”

Biding time, Lenora closed her mouth around her spoon. She savored the taste of cherries, and with the taste, the memory of Asquith’s expression as he’d watched her eat the same dish.

Slowly, she licked any lingering flavor off her lips. She didn’t want to lie, but she could hardly tell the truth.

“Do you pine after Asquith?” she asked instead.

“I did,” Amelia answered. “But only during my first Season—years ago now.” She leaned forward in a conspiratorial fashion. “I’m older than I look.” She turned her face toward Asquith. “I’m of an age with him, you know, just as you and Preston are.”

She suspected but hadn’t known. And she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to quiz someone who had seen him in Society when he was younger.

“What was he like?”

“Serious.” Amelia gazed at Asquith. “But in a mysterious, intriguing way. Gentlemanly... But a bit sad, too.”