He smiled lazily. "I don't suppose you would care to recommend an alternate route?"
"If you go the other way, you'll come to a bridle path that leads to a sunken lane. Follow it to the gatehouse garden, go through the opening in the hedge, and you'll find a path that takes you to the top of a hill. From there you can see lakes, villages, forests, all spread before you...the view is breathtaking."
"Is that where you're headed?"
She shook her head and replied impudently, "No, I am going in the opposite direction."
"But who will save me from the bogs?"
She laughed. "You can't accompany me, my lord. It would neither be seemly nor wise."
If they were seen together, it would cause gossip. And it would most certainly displease Lady Westcliff, who had warned her never to take a "follower," as it was politely called.
"Do you wish to be alone?" Lord Sydney asked. A new expression crossed his face, so quick and subtle that hardly anyone would have noticed it. "Forgive me. Once again I have trespassed on your solitude."
Lottie wondered at what she had seen in his eyes for that fragment of a second...a desolation so vast and impenetrable that it shocked her. What could have caused it? He had everything a person required to be content...freedom, wealth, looks, social position. There was no reason for him to be anything other than ecstatic over his lot in life. But he was unhappy, and everything in her nature compelled her to offer him comfort. "I am rather too accustomed to solitude," she said softly. "Perhaps some company would be a pleasant change."
"If you're certain-"
"Yes, come along." She gave his athletic form a deliberately challenging glance. "I only hope that you'll be able to keep pace with me."
"I'll try," he assured her wryly, falling into step beside her as she continued her walk.
They approached the trunk of a huge oak that had fallen across the path. Insects buzzed lazily through the rays of strengthening sunlight that streamed in from above. "Look," Lottie said, gesturing to a dragonfly as it flew and dipped before them. "There are more than a dozen varieties of dragonfly in this forest, and at least a hundred different moths. If you come at dusk, you can see purple hairstreak butterflies-they gather right there at the tops of the tr-"
"Miss Miller," he interrupted, "I'm a Londoner. We don't care about insects, except to consider how they may best be exterminated."
Lottie heaved a theatrical sigh, as if vexed by his lack of interest in the subject. "All right, then. I will refrain from describing the many varieties of aquatic beetle we have here."
"Thank you," came his fervent reply. "Here, allow me to help you over that oak-"
"No need."
Lottie hopped onto the fallen trunk and walked along the gnarled surface, showing off her physical coordination with no trace of modesty. When her efforts were greeted with silence, she glanced over her shoulder and discovered Sydney walking right behind her, his footing as sure and easy as a cat's. A startled laugh escaped her as she made her way to the end of the trunk. "You are quite agile for a gentleman of your size."
Lord Sydney let the comment pass, his mouth twisting to indicate that his agility was of no consequence. "Why did you become a lady's companion?" he asked as Lottie jumped to the ground, her feet rustling through the brittle layer of leaves. He followed her, landing in the same spot she had. Curiously, he did not make nearly as much noise as she had, despite the fact that he was easily twice her weight.
Lottie chose her words with great care. She disliked talking about her past-not only was it dangerous but the subject filled her with melancholy. "My family is poor. There was no other choice for me."
"You could have married."
"I've never met anyone that I wanted to marry."
"Not even Lord Westcliff?"
"Lord Westcliff?" she repeated in surprise. "Why would I have designs on him?"
"He's wealthy and titled, and you've resided beneath his roof for two years," came Sydney's sardonic reply. "Why wouldn't you?"
Lottie frowned thoughtfully. It wasn't as if the earl was unappealing-quite the opposite, in fact. Westcliff was an attractive man who shouldered his responsibilities and considered it unmanly to complain about them. In addition to his own strict morality, Lord Westcliff possessed a dry wit and a carefully concealed sense of compassion, and as Lottie had discreetly observed, he employed his courteous manners as skillfully as a weapon. Women were drawn to him, although Lottie was not one of them. She sensed that she did not have the key to unlock his innate reserve...nor had she ever been tempted to trust him with the reason for her uncompromising solitude.
"Naturally a man of Westcliff's position would never entertainthat kind of interest in a lady's companion," she said in reply to Lord Sydney's question. "But even if we were on the same social footing, I am certain that the earl would never regard me in that way, nor I him. Our relationship-if one could call it that-does not possess that particular..." She paused, searching for an appropriate word. "Alchemy."
The word hovered gently in the air, dispelled only by the sound of Sydney's quiet voice.
"Surely alchemy pales in comparison to the safety that he could offer you."
Safety. The thing she wanted most, and could never have. Lottie stopped and stared into his dark face. "What makes you think that I am in need of safety?"
"You're alone. A woman needs someone to protect her."
"Oh, I have no need of protection. I have a very pleasant life at Stony Cross Park. Lady Westcliff is quite kind, and I want for nothing."
"Lady Westcliff won't live forever," Sydney pointed out. Although his words were blunt, his expression was strangely understanding. "What will you do after she is gone?"
The question caught Lottie by surprise. No one ever asked her such things. Perturbed, she took her time about replying. "I don't know," she said honestly. "I suppose I never let myself think about the future."
Sydney's gaze was riveted on her, his eyes an almost unnatural shade of blue. "Neither do I."
Lottie didn't know what to make of her companion. It had been easy at first to think of him as a spoiled young aristocrat, with his beautifully tailored clothes and perfect features. But on closer inspection, there were signs that conveyed the opposite. The deep-cut shadows beneath his eyes betrayed countless sleepless nights. The harsh grooves on either side of his mouth gave him a cynical look that was odd for a man so young. And in unguarded moments such as this, she saw in his eyes that he was no stranger to pain.
His expression changed like quicksilver. Once again he was a lazy rogue with mocking eyes. "The future is too boring to contemplate," he said lightly. "Shall we continue, Miss Miller?"
Disconcerted by his swift change of mood, Lottie led him out of the forest to a sunken road. The morning sun rose higher, chasing the lavender from the sky and warming the meadows. The field they passed was filled with heather and emerald sphagnum moss, and dotted with tiny red sundew rosettes. "They don't have views like this in London, do they?" Lottie remarked.
"No," Lord Sydney agreed, although he seemed distinctly unenchanted by the quiet rural beauty around them.
"I gather you prefer town life," Lottie said with a smile. "Tenements, cobbled streets, factories, coal smoke, and all that noise. How could anyone choose that overthis ?"
The sunlight touched on the mahogany and gold highlights in his brown hair. "You keep your beetles and bogs, Miss Miller. I'll take London any time."
"I'll show you something that London doesn't have." Triumphantly Lottie led him across the sunken road. They came to a deep muddy basin filled with water that spilled from the bank beside it.