Chapter Seventeen #2
Hugo shrugged. “I sit up front, so I can steer, and you sit behind me, side saddle, of course. I’m sure it will be very comfortable.”
Adaline looked between him and his pedestrian curricle several times, eyes wide and brows raised. “I’m sure that is simply not done, sir.”
“On the contrary, the Prince Regent himself took Mrs. Fitzherbert for a ride in just such a manner only a few weeks ago.”
“Did he now?”
Hugo nodded sagely. “The caricaturists have already captured the scene in exquisite detail.”
Adaline nearly smiled but bit her lip, trying to force a stern expression through her amusement. “I do not think I’d like to give the caricaturists further fodder for their cartoons.”
“Hmm.” Hugo scratched his chin. “We could always do the opposite. You can steer and I shall ride side saddle behind you.”
That startled a laugh from her, but she shook her head. “That, sir, will assure our chances of being immortalized in the gossip rags. I fear I must politely decline.”
“Oh, very well. A walk will have to do. I shall—”
“I will take charge of it, my lord,” a young boy said, running up to them. “Lord Arthur sent me to see if you needed assistance,” he added, nodding in the direction of Arthur and their friends who stood a short distance off, laughing amongst themselves. At his unfortunate accident, no doubt.
Or… He glanced back at Adaline. Perhaps not so unfortunate.
“Thank you,” he said, flipping a coin to the boy. “Tell my brother I will meet him back at home.”
“Aye, milord,” he said, bobbing a quick bow before hurrying to remove the hobby horse from the bushes.
Hugo turned back to Adaline. “Shall we?” he asked.
She didn’t answer but turned and started back up the path, letting him follow.
For a few moments, they walked in surprisingly comfortable silence, the only sound the crunch of gravel beneath their feet and occasional laughter from others enjoying the promenade.
Hugo stole a glance at Adaline, his eyes drawn to the sunlight glinting off the red gold highlights in her chestnut hair.
When her gaze met his, he gave her a quick smile. “Tell me, Miss Girard, how fares your brother? Is he still contemplating removing me from this earthly coil?”
Adaline giggled softly. “Henry has a tendency toward overprotectiveness, but I believe he has abandoned his quest for your early demise. For now. He spent a week in Bath and declared it the dullest place on earth. Perhaps because he could not find enough diversion to his liking. My mother is despairing of him ever settling down.”
“Mothers are apt to despair,” Hugo said with a snort. “Mine is convinced I have become too accustomed to my own company to ever end my own bachelorhood. A fate she seems to view as worse than death.”
“Surely you exaggerate, Lord Hugo. I know you are not so unsociable as that. Every event I have observed, you attended with apparent enthusiasm.”
He grinned. “Apparent is the operative word there, madam. Every event I attend, there is a gaggle of females somewhere within, determined to recommend a daughter, sister, or protégée. I am expected to take advantage and make a favorable match with all due haste.”
Adaline let out a sigh. “You have my sympathy, sir. As the only daughter, my family is eager to see me securely settled. My brother, while of course expected to make a good match, is allowed to do as he pleases for the most part, while I must attend every party and ball, guard my reputation and keep my name from the gossips—a task made more difficult of late thanks to a few unexpected circumstances,” she said, glaring at him from her peripheral.
His cheeks actually grew warm with shame. The consequences of his ill-fated jest, it seemed, would not fade any time soon. “My apologies again, my lady.”
“Hmm,” she said before continuing. “I must smile at every gentleman, accept every dance invitation, and never once betray my aversion or boredom.”
“And do you ever falter?” he asked, amused but truly interested.
“Of course not. Mother would faint. I reserve my true opinion for select company,” she said with another sidelong glance.
“Ah, and am I to infer that I am party to that select company?”
She turned her head to look at him more fully. “I suppose you have not thus far proven yourself entirely unworthy of my confidences.”
Hugo chuckled. “Not entirely unworthy, eh? Well, I shall have to hope that one day I might be promoted to the rank of somewhat tolerable.”
Adaline’s laughter rang out, bright and melodic.
He gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Yet despite my less than pure worthiness, you have deigned to walk with me. Curious, is it not?”
She tilted her head to regard him. “Perhaps, Lord Hugo, I am simply ensuring you do no further harm to the innocent shrubbery in the park.”
He stopped, turning to face her, warmth filling him when she turned to him with a smile. “Or perhaps,” he said, his teasing tone mixed with what sounded disturbingly like hope, “you find my company less disagreeable than you pretend.”
Adaline’s lips pursed and her eyes narrowed, though he didn’t miss the flush in her cheeks.
“I have tolerated your presence for a mere quarter hour, Lord Hugo. Do not become overly confident.”
His laughter echoed in his chest, and he gave her a slight bow, his hand over his heart. “Well, Miss Girard, at the risk of sounding too confident, I will confess that this afternoon has been…shall we say, unexpectedly pleasant.”
“Then perhaps I will confess that I have found it the same,” she said with obvious reluctance. But a small smile played about her lips. “Good day, Lord Hugo.”
He returned her smile, and she turned to walk away, but paused when he spoke again, the words erupting before he’d consciously decided to say them.
“Does that mean that I may seek you out should our paths cross again without fear of threatened duels or other bodily harm?”
She called back over her shoulder. “We shall see, Lord Hugo. We shall see.”