Page 25

No. No, it was not Harry. For a moment the disappointment was crushing.

“Thank you, sir,” said Joan when Mariah couldn’t make a sound. “How kind of you to say so.”

He glanced at Joan, still beaming. “It is not a kindness at all, when it is the plain truth.” He turned to Mariah again. “And it is a lovely day for a stroll in the park. When it is nice out, I always try to walk outdoors.”

“One can go so much farther than walking indoors!” trilled Joan, who seemed to understand Mariah’s problem at once. “Tell me, Mr. Crane, do you prefer London or the countryside for your walks? I adore London, but one must simply go round and round in circles in a park to get a good long walk, whereas in the country, one could stroll all the way to Wales.”

“Er... Yes.” He looked sideways at Joan, then back at Mariah. “I prefer London as well. But outdoors, as much as possible.” He paused. “I like parks.”

“Then we mustn’t detain you from your walk,” said Mariah, finally finding her tongue again. “We are bound for home.”

“Of course!” He paused again, as if thinking over his words. “Might I have the honor of escorting you there?”

“No!” Joan squeezed her hand in warning at her sharp tone, and Mariah gave herself a mental shake. “Thank you, but we are only a short distance away.” She smiled as sweetly as she could manage and bobbed a curtsy. He looked positively dumbstruck, his jaw sagging open. “Good day, sir. Good day, Sir George.” She turned on her heel as Mr. Crane swept a grand bow, and started for home.

Mariah began to recover herself as she walked. That had been a setback, no doubt. It was her own fault; she should have made sure of matters before she started staring at him like a half-wit. What did it matter if she hadn’t met the elusive Harry yet? She’d only been looking one day, barely an hour. The battle was not over, and she was not about to surrender. She must be more circumspect in the future, though. She didn’t want to let her hopes rise and then be crushed like that again.

“Well,” Joan said through her laughter when they were safely away from Mr. Crane. “You’ve made another conquest! Not Harry, I assume, but still a handsome fellow. No doubt he would have told you so himself if given enough time.”

“Nonsense.” Mariah kept up her steady, brisk pace. “Besides, he didn’t look at all the way I expected Harry to look.”

“No, indeed not,” said Joan gravely. “You’ve never seen his face, but when you see him, you’ll know him at once.”

Mariah stopped and turned on her cousin. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t expect to know him on sight. I already told you I must speak to him to have any chance of identifying him. But there is something in his voice, something in his manner... I do feel I should be able to make a good guess if a stranger might be Harry.”

Joan cocked her head. “And of course he’ll look like a handsome, charming, intelligent gentleman. Mariah, what if he’s not handsome?”

She pushed away that thought. “I’m not so shallow as that. I could like a plain gentleman as well as a handsome one.”

“Plain? What if he is maimed or scarred or otherwise ill-favored? What if that’s the reason he doesn’t want you to see his face? Would you still comb all of London, searching for your beastly suitor?”

Mariah opened her mouth, then closed it without a word. She started walking again, not waiting for her cousin. How could Joan think that of her, that she would only be pleased if Harry were handsome? Was that what Joan thought of her? Naturally, her mind had filled in a handsome face to go with his voice. But still... What if he were... she frowned uncertainly... beastly?

It was a terrible question, all the worse because she didn’t know. He made her laugh when she was in a temper at the ball. He intrigued her by fleeing the balcony rather than be properly introduced. And he fascinated her by sneaking into their garden and climbing into her room. He might well be the rogue he had named himself, and she a silly fool for being dazzled by it.

“Mariah!” She stopped at Joan’s cry. “Wait!” Her cousin hurried after her, face creased with remorse. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sure your Harry is a handsome fellow—how could he not be, when he’s so romantic and mysterious? I should never have teased you about it.”

Mariah managed a smile. “It’s all right, Joan. You may be right. He may not be the dashing gentleman I’ve conjured in my mind. He may not be clever, or amusing, or kind. He may not be interesting at all, in the ordinary light of day. But...” She hesitated, lifting her hands helplessly. “I have to know. Does that make sense? I would rather discover him, and find him tiresome, than never know.”

“Tiresome! No, he cannot be!”

Mariah bit her lip. “I cannot believe he is, but... Even so, Joan, I must find him. It’s not an idle fancy on my part, it’s... Well, it’s something more than that.”

Joan searched her face for a moment, then the crease between her brows faded. She linked her arm through Mariah’s. “Then we shall find him, even if we have to summon every man in London, be he handsome, charming, hideous, or tiresome, for an interview. I want to know, too.”

Mariah smiled gratefully. “Thank you. It’s ever so much better to have an accomplice.”

Joan flipped one hand modestly, though she was grinning now. “Of course I couldn’t let you have all the fun! Even if we must walk around the entire park a hundred times to find him.”

“No,” she said slowly. “We needn’t do that. I don’t think we’ll meet him in the park.”

“Why not?”

She thought again of a man who leapt—climbed—from a balcony when someone approached, who refused to tell her his name, who said he couldn’t come calling during the day but instead scaled the wall into her bedroom at midnight. Would a fellow like that be standing around the park, like Douglas’s no-account friends? Of course not. She ought to have realized that sooner. “I just know we won’t.”

Joan stared at her. “Then how?”

Mariah did another survey of the park. She’d been so impatient to find him, but it was too much to think they would succeed so easily. She needed a better plan. “I don’t know.”