The man’s rich laughter rolled over her. “I’ve no doubt. I required some extra grooming myself after a swim in that foul water.” He shuddered. “The geese can have it all to themselves, as far as I’m concerned.”
Emmaline arched a black brow. “Then we’d have to call it foul fowl water.”
He blinked at her, then his eyes crinkled in a smile as he dipped a quick nod in acknowledgment of her sad little pun. “Indeed.”
She smiled back at him, inordinately pleased. “Those birds are a menace,” she said. “You must have thought me a madwoman, chasing after them like that.”
He bent to lower Duke to the ground, and the puppy pranced happily at their feet. As the man straightened, the corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. “Not a madwoman. Though I must admit, as I didn’t see the pup in the lake at first, I did wonder what sent you flying across the field like Boadicea.”
His grin had spread over his whole face now, and Emmaline was struck by how much more handsome it made him.
“Boadicea?” She snorted.
“Well, if Boadicea were battling an army of geese rather than Romans.”
She laughed then, shaking her head.
“Jesting aside,” he said, “not everyone would bother themselves to help a person in trouble, much less an animal. I find you quite brave.”
The simple compliment struck her speechless. It also struck a chord inside Emmaline, reverberating through her with a low hum. In her life, much admiration had been shown her from gentlemen, but it always centered around how she looked—never about her as a person. Even her parents only had praise for the qualities they deemed would make her the most advantageous marriage.
She had no idea how to respond.
Luckily, Duke saved her. The puppy barked in protest that their attention wasn’t being paid to him, before running in circles around them in great bounds and pounces to ensure it was. Both she and the man laughed at the dog’s antics, and the moment passed.
Once he was satisfied that all was once again right with the world, the pup took off down the footpath, expecting the humans to follow. And they did, side by side, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
It certainly felt that way, Emmaline realized, even though it was anything but. Still, she found herself tongue-tied. Was it because she was unused to conversing with men outside of the aristocratic rules of engagement that had been drilled into her from birth? Or was it because she so desperately wanted this man to find her more than just a pretty face?
Whichever the reason, all she knew was that she wanted to keep talking with him.
“It’s turned out to be a lovely day for this late in the year,” she blurted, then nearly squeezed her eyes shut. Oh brilliant, Emmaline. He’s certain to find you fascinating now.
“It has,” her companion answered. “The sunshine is most welcome.”
After a few more steps—during which Emmaline discarded several topics of conversation as too frivolous or unsuitable or just not interesting enough—the man spoke again.
“This park is certainly a nice respite from the bustle of the City. This is only my second visit, and yet I already find myself partial to it.” After a long hesitation, he ventured, “Do you come here often?”
His voice lifted on the last word casually. Too casually. Emmaline’s heart picked up its pace. Was he making idle conversation, or had he returned here this morning hoping to see her, too?
“Not typically,” she answered. “At least not in November. Most years, we’ve retreated to the country by now.”
But not this year. After the Duke of Albemarle’s death last month, her father had elected to stay in town to help to handle the late man’s affairs. He’d insisted his family stay, as well. Emmaline suspected it was only to have her close at hand so that she might be introduced to the new duke at first opportunity, should the Duchess of Albemarle bear another girl—which was widely expected.
But Emmaline didn’t want to think of this maybe-duke now. She wanted only to think of the man by her side.
And if he were floating the question because he wished to know if he might see her again…
“However,” she said, glad that her voice rang with nonchalance even though she felt as though she might bubble over with nervous hope, “Duke loves it here.”
As if on cue, Duke cut across in front of them in pursuit of a fat red squirrel.
“And as you can see,” she continued with a wry grin, “he enjoys his exercise.”
Emmaline bit her lip, deliberating only a moment. She shouldn’t encourage anything between them. There was no hope of a future. And yet, she’d could just put her intention out there. It would be up to him if he chose to pursue it…
She turned her head toward him as they continued walking, catching and holding his gaze.
“I should bring him here every morning, don’t you think?”
MAXWELL WASN’T A BETTING MAN, but if he were, he’d wager all that he had that he was being flirted with.
He suppressed a satisfied smile.
His young lady was awaiting an answer, so he flicked a glance to where Duke now pounced on some poor insect who’d chosen the unluckiest time to crawl by. “It does seem to be a fine idea.”
He wasn’t positive, but he thought her shoulders drooped a bit. Oh, she was interested. And she’d been hoping for a bit more encouragement.
He shouldn’t, of course. Regardless of his possibly impending dukedom, he had myriad things to do that were not walking in the park with a young lady, even if she was so lovely that she’d invaded his dreams last night as well as most of his waking thoughts since he’d met her.
And yet…
He returned his gaze to hers and lowered his voice. “I, too, am fond of my exercise—about this time every day, in fact. And I do believe Hyde Park will be the perfect place for my morning constitutionals whilst I am in town.”
She didn’t do nearly as good a job as he had at suppressing a smile of her own, which sent a small thrill coursing through him.
This was foolishness. He should take his leave, he knew. He had much to do at the Old Bailey, and the Earl of Montgomery was expected again this afternoon. But he simply didn’t want to go.
It wasn’t just the girl. It was this time, this in-betweenness. This beautiful creature flirted with him just because she wished to. If he were to become the duke, this might be the last time someone wanted to flirt with him and not ‘the duke!’.
He would hold on to that as long as he possibly could.
“Whilst you are in town?” she asked, shaking him from his thoughts. “Are you not from London, then?”
His chest tightened at her question, but he shook his head. News about Albemarle’s heir presumptive was likely already circulating around the members of society who still remained in the City. He’d wager that his home and career as a barrister were already fodder over tea and sherry. He didn’t wish for that business to encroach here. Not with her. He’d have to be careful what he said.
“No. I’m just visiting for a time,” he said.
“A holiday, then?” she asked, and damned if she didn’t sound disappointed that he might be returning home soon.
“No. I’m here for an extended period, for…” He thought a moment at how best to phrase it honestly, but vaguely. “For work.”
Her black brows inched toward each other in thought.
He realized his vagueness only served to confuse her.
“I mean to say, I’m being considered for a…a promotion. Of sorts.”
Damnation. That wasn’t much better.
She nodded at him, but he could tell she didn’t really understand. And why would she? Work, at least as it applied to a profession, wasn’t a part of her sphere.