9. A Charming Rascal #2
Miles leaned back in his plush chair, entwining his fingers behind his head. “I told Lu she was a goose to believe you’d brought her to town for charity work. So it’s Creswell in your crosshairs, is it? You couldn’t have picked a duller dog, Aunt.”
Lady Marlstone sniffed, unmoved. “A little dullness in a husband is no bad thing. Creswell is everything a gentleman ought to be—impeccable lineage, spotless reputation, and, if you must know, utterly smitten with her.”
“Smitten, you say? How can you tell?”
Lady Marlstone replied with triumph. “From the thunderous looks he was directing at you yesterday, of course,”
Miles laughed. “Lord, Aunt Bella! Dull, jealous, and eager to please—you’ve outdone yourself. I’ll remember your talents if ever I seek a wife. Though I trust you’ll forgive me if I aim a trifle higher.”
“Well, your brother was handsome, titled, and perfectly placed to capture her heart, and yet he made a complete hash of things with Lucinda. I won’t see her disappointed a second time.”
Miles’s grin softened. “Nor would I, but don’t think to order the wedding banns for Creswell just yet. Lucinda hasn’t given up on Alex—not entirely.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Marlstone declared, though her brow creased. “He’s been gone nearly two years.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s indifferent,” Miles said. “And Lucinda…well, she hasn’t forgotten him either.”
For a rare moment, Lady Marlstone was silent, her thoughts churning. “Do you truly believe there’s hope for them?”
Miles’s grin returned, equal parts charm and provocation. “I’d lay wager on it,” he said, just as Lucinda swept into the room, resplendent in a velvet riding habit of deep green.
“If you’re wagering I’d take hours over my toilette, you’ve lost, Miles!” Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with excitement, and the feathered hat perched jauntily on her copper curls only added to the effect.
Miles leaped to his feet. Periwinkle likewise forsook Lady Marlstone’s lap with a yap.
“Lu!” Miles exclaimed with a teasing bow. “You look quite ravishing. Are you sure you won’t abandon Creswell and elope with me instead?”
Lucinda laughed as she swatted his arm. “Behave, Miles. Now come,” she said, pulling him toward the door. “Let’s not keep the horses waiting!”
“How long will you be?” asked Lady Marlstone.
Miles, suffering to be dragged out of the room, recalled that he’d pressed his brother’s staff to provide a picnic for them and that he’d return Lucinda home later that afternoon.
Their progress along Rotten Row was a most agreeable diversion, Lucinda seated with effortless grace atop a gentle chestnut mare, while Miles, astride a spirited bay, entertained her with a running commentary on the passing parade of fashionable people.
Periwinkle, quite untroubled by the diversion of his master’s attentions, trotted cheerfully at their side.
Miles’s banter was as irreverent as ever, and Lucinda laughed with a freedom she had not known in months.
Behind them rode two footmen dispatched from Grosvenor Square: one entrusted with the picnic hamper and the other to ensure the horses were kept in motion whenever the young master should decide to dine alfresco.
As they reached the end of their circuit, Miles gestured toward a shaded spot beneath the spreading plane trees, declaring it the perfect locale for their repast. With the footmen seeing to the arrangements, the pair settled on a blanket amidst the dappled light.
For a time, they ate in companionable silence, Miles’s gaze flicking between Lucinda and the horizon.
At last, he leaned back on one elbow and broke the quiet with a teasing smile.
“It’s my belief,” he began in a light tone, “that Alex would hardly recognize you now. All grown up, so poised, and every inch the lady. He’d likely be struck dumb, which you well know, is no small feat for Alex.”
Lucinda’s expression clouded. “Speechless? I rather think not. He made it clear what he thought of me—what he thought of all women. A distraction. A game. Someone to be…desired but never respected.”
“What do you mean by that?”
She looked down into her lemonade. “That proposal —if you could call it that—was no grand declaration of love from your brother, Miles. It was a drunken whim.”
“After the hours we all spent gadding about Kent as children, how can you not pardon that foolish blunder?”
“I was ready to, but he disappeared.”
“I’m certain he’d desire your forgiveness, Lu.”
Lucinda sighed, her gaze drifting toward the distant skyline. “You imagine he’ll write me an apology, do you?” she said with a trace of longing.
“No, I imagine him offering you one in person, and very soon.”
She looked up at him in a start. Her mouth was open and poised to ask her heart’s longing.
“That’s right, we expect him soon,” Miles added.
Lucinda rectified the indecorous attitude of her chin and fell to contemplating her fingers again.
“When he has the chance to see you, my dear, and I mean really see you—your elegance, your wit, he’s going to be at your feet in penitence! I’m still hopeful he’ll make you my sister.”
Lucinda’s lips rose into a faint smile. “You’re impossible, Miles. But thank you.”