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Lenora pointed a finger at her forehead, near the hairline, while staring at the mark upon his at the exact same place. “Is that where you were injured during your scuffle with the pirates?”

At his surprised look, she lifted a shoulder.

“I couldn’t help but hear what you told Mama that day I was injured.”

“Yes, during a sword fight, I tripped over a rope and cracked my head upon the ship’s rail. Nothing so dashing as having tossed a salty buccaneer into the ocean.”

“A sword fight?” She swallowed at the image.

“Piracy isn’t nearly as rampant as it once was.” He winked rakishly. “You needn’t fret on my account, sweeting.”

He was dangerous when he was deliberately charming, and at this moment, Captain Jason Steele was very dangerous indeed.

Lenora fumbled around for a topic less likely to incinerate her.

“I never thanked you for being so kind to Mama that day or for playing along with my little charade,” Lenora said, another wave of appreciation warming her.

Jason regarded her for a long moment before saying simply, “You’re welcome.”

She’d expected him to pontificate slightly more. But she was learning that Jason never said more than he needed to. A man of few words, he wasn’t, but neither did he babble on about nonsensical claptrap such as a neckcloth’s folds.

Tilting his head, he squinted at the cloudy sky. “I believe we can expect more snow before nightfall.”

“I like the snow,” Lenora said, watching as little vapor puffs formed with each word. “It makes everything feel clean and protected. There’s a kind of peacefulness when everything is blanketed with snow.”

“I like snow too,” he said as the snow crunched beneath his glossy Hessians. “We get quite a lot of it in Boston.”

Lenora brushed away a smattering of breadcrumbs clinging to her cloak. “In Brighton, there was a winter carnival each year—snow or not. When it snowed, there were sleigh rides, sledding, and ice skating.”

She’d never participated but had always longed to. Papa believed such frivolities spoiled the soul, and Mama always feared some manner of harm would befall Lenora.

Though it wasn’t visible, she looked toward the River Thames. “I’ve heard there have been years that the Thames has frozen over and Londoners have celebrated with Frost Fairs. Both are quite rare, however.” Her attention drifted back to the man-made lake before them. “Do you suppose they allow skating on the Serpentine if it freezes?”

Jason nodded, his eyes more blue-gray today, likely because of the clouds overhead. “I believe so. Though it’s cold, there’s little chance of the lake freezing solid enough this early on. It takes many days of freezing weather to create a surface hard and safe enough to stand on.”

He caught her gloved hand in his, hers white against his black, and she shot a quick glance at Dottie. She was too busy beguiling her footman to notice Jason’s forwardness.

“Do you skate, Lenora?”

They’d taken to addressing each other by their given names when alone. Jason still clasped her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It would have been if they were betrothed or married. As they were neither, holding hands was highly inappropriate.

Regardless, Lenora didn’t withdraw her hand.

She shook her head in answer to his question, grateful for the velvet hood covering her. Her wool, silk feathered redingote didn’t provide enough protection from the biting cold.

“No. Mama was afraid I’d get hurt.” Mama meant well, but her concern had been suffocating at times. Lenora supposed it was because she couldn’t have children of her own, and Lenora was the only child she would ever have.

“Is that why you don’t walk Keyworth’s dog? He’s too big for you to safely control?” At her surprised glance, he quirked a brow. “I’ve seen him. He must weigh ten stone or more.”

“Sampson is gentle and very sweet-tempered. However, he can be a bit much to handle when he’s excited.” She swept a gaze up and down the path. “In fact, it was near here, just there, that he knocked the Duchess of Westfall down.”

She pointed to a section of trees lining the pathway. “She wasn’t the duchess then, of course, and Sampson was just a puppy. His Grace, the Duke of Westfall, played the hero that day because Her Grace had sprained her ankle when she fell. They fell in love and married a short time later.”

“Sampson is a matchmaker?” he said with an undercurrent she couldn’t quite identify but which sent shivers zipping from her waist up her spine. “A very romantic tale indeed.”

Lenora curved her mouth into a nascent smile, feeling oddly poignant and sentimental for no reason she could pinpoint. “It is, isn’t it?”

Jason released her hand, then took her arm. As always, a jolt of sensual awareness billowed through her. That happened every time they touched. It was a wonder she had any bones left in her at all.