"-I suggest we call this game a draw."
"Very generous of you, I'm sure."
She shot him an arch look. "Although my performance today indicates otherwise, I am not completely inept. Observe." Reaching out, she scooped up the three billiards balls and tossed them into the air. The trio of spheres rotated around as she juggled them with deftness and skill.
"Very impressive," he said. "Who taught you that?"
"My father. It is a skill that proved quite useful for entertaining and distracting my rambunctious siblings. I remember one afternoon when Joshua was four," she said as she tossed the balls ever faster, "he'd fallen down that morning and scraped his elbows and knees. Poor darling, he was so miserable and sore. To divert his attention, I brought him outside. We walked to the chicken coop, where I decided to entertain him by juggling… with the nearest available objects, which happened to be eggs."
An odd feeling invaded his chest at the incongruous but utterly charming picture she made-a grown woman garbed in mourning, her face flushed with unmistakable pleasure, juggling billiards balls. "Was your brother entertained?"
"Oh, my, yes. Especially when I missed."
"The egg fell on the ground?"
"No. It fell on my face. The second hit my shoulder, and the third landed on top of my head."
Laughter rumbled in his throat. "You must have looked quite the sight."
"Indeed. Joshua, of course, nearly split his sides laughing. And his hilarity only increased when the egg began to dry. Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to have hardened egg on your face?"
"I'm afraid not. While I've frequently suffered from having egg on my face, it's been strictly of the figurative, as opposed to the literal, nature."
"Well, it's horribly uncomfortable," she informed him. "I'd strongly advise against it."
"And this egg-on-the-face miss you made… was it deliberate?"
He fancied she shrugged. "It was a small price to pay to see him smile. And now, to end the show…" She tossed the balls high in the air, spun around in a quick circle, then expertly caught them.
"Bravo," he said, clapping. "Very well done."
"Thank you, kind sir. That is exactly what Joshua said… once he ceased laughing." A faraway look entered her eyes. "I remember that afternoon so vividly. It was lovely. A very happy day…"
Her voice trailed off, and she was clearly lost in her memories. Robert watched her, imagining her as a young girl, irrepressible and full of fun, mischief, and laughter, letting eggs fall upon her to entertain an injured boy. That was the woman in the sketch Elizabeth had drawn of her. Where had that woman gone? Was she so far lost as to be beyond recall?
His question was answered at that exact instant when she looked at him.
And smiled.
A beautiful, full smile that bloomed on her face like an unfurling flower. It was like the sun appearing from behind a dark cloud. It embraced her entire face, etching a pair of tiny dimples near the corners of her mouth, lighting her eyes, and casting her features with pure pleasure and a hint of deviltry. It was, without question, the most winsome, enchanting smile he'd ever seen.
The impact was like a punch to his heart. Yet before he could gather himself, she dealt him another reeling blow. She laughed. A delighted, mischievous, full-bodied laugh that surely would have beckoned him to join in if she hadn't already struck him senseless.
"Oh, you should have seen Mama's face when she saw me," she said, shaking her head. "It was priceless."
He managed to find his voice. "She was shocked?"
"Shocked?" An enchanting sound that could only be described as a giggle escaped her. "Heavens no! With four boisterous children, nothing shocked Mama. She didn't even turn a hair. But when I entered the house, Mrs. Yardly, the nosiest, most disagreeable woman in the village, was visiting." She screwed her face into a comical pucker, stuck her nose in the air, and mimicked in a high-pitched tone, " 'What unladylike mess has your hoyden daughter gotten herself into now?"
Her features relaxed and she continued in her normal voice, "I wanted to crawl under the braided rug, but Mama, bless her, simply looked at Mrs. Yardly as if she'd grown another head. 'Why, Harriet,' Mama said, 'I'm stunned that you do not know that dried egg on one's hair and face is the secret to shinier curls and smoother skin. You'd best start using it, immediately, every day. Unless, of course, you want more lines on your face.'"
She covered her lips with her fingertips, but there was no containing her merriment. "Mama could be quite wicked, I'm afraid."
His lips curved upward in a grin, and although he knew he appeared perfectly relaxed on the outside, a maelstrom of feelings swirled inside him-all of them warm and aching. Unsettling. And unexpected in their intensity.
"Actually, she sounds delightful," he said. "And very much like my own mother, who can somehow convey more with the simple lift of her brows than most people can with an hour of oratory. Fabulous talent, but quite frightening." He looked heavenward and affected an angelic expression. "I, of course, being a perfect child, rarely was the victim of Duchess Lifts-the-Brows." He made a tsking noise. "Sadly, I fear my brothers did not fare as well."
She shot him a clearly dubious look, laughter still dancing in her eyes. "I believe you are telling me what Lady Gaddlestone would refer to as a Banbury tale."
"I? Never. What makes you suspect such a thing?"
"Several anecdotes Elizabeth shared with me in her letters."
He waved a dismissive hand. "Can't believe a word she says, as she obviously hears these tales from Austin, who of course would repeat them in a wholly fictitious manner in order to show himself in the best light."
"I see. So you didn't try to scare off Caroline's governess by rigging a bucket of water and barrel of flour over her bedchamber door?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"And you didn't dare your brothers to shuck their clothing and swim in the lake?"
"Dare is a rather strong word-"
"Banbury tale," she decreed. "I suspect your poor mother has a permanent wrinkle etched on her forehead from all the brow-raising you induced."
"To match the one you gave your mother, I'm sure."
They simply stood there, smiling at each other for the space of several heartbeats, and Robert could almost feel something pass between them. A sense of kinship and understanding, yet something more… an intimate awareness that sent a fissure of heat through him.
"I'll acknowledge that Lady Gaddlestone's saying is apt," he said. "As were other words I recall her saying."
"Indeed? What were those?"
"She said you need laughter. And that you're far too serious by half." He walked slowly toward her, drawn like a moth to flame, stopping when only two feet separated them. All vestiges of amusement faded from her eyes, replaced by the guarded, wary expression normally there. The urge to reach out and glide his fingers over her silky cheek nearly overwhelmed him, as did the desire to see her laugh again.
The happy, smiling woman she once was clearly still dwelled within her. A mere glimpse of her had utterly captivated him. And by damn, he wanted to see her again.
But it was obvious from her expression that she'd once again retreated behind the walls she'd erected around herself. His heart protested, swelling in sympathy for her.
"I know all too well what it is like to have your laughter stolen, and a heavy weight upon your heart," he said softly, unable to stop the words.
Something that looked like anger flashed in her eyes, but it disappeared before he could be certain. "You don't understand-"
"I do." Reaching out, he gently squeezed her hand. Nate's death would haunt him for the rest of his life. The only difference between his sorrow and hers was that she wore her sadness and loneliness on her sleeve-literally with her mourning clothes-whereas he'd learned to hide his inner sadness from the world.
Damn it, she was young. And lovely. And had suffered the same sort of deep, personal loss as he. She deserved some fun. And by damn, he was going to prov
ide it.
He pulled her toward the door. "Come. It's far too lovely a day to remain indoors. Let us ride through the park. There's something I want to show you… Something you'd enjoy."
She hesitated and he tugged gently on her hand. "Please. It is one of my nieces' and nephew's favorite things to do when they're in town. One of Elizabeth 's as well. She'd never forgive me if I neglected to show you."
"What is it?"
"That would spoil the surprise." He smiled at her. "Trust me."
The expression that passed over her face made him wonder if he'd mistakenly suggested they chop the furniture to pieces with an axe. Her features cleared, but then she studied him for so long he was prompted to tease, "I promise not to try to extract national secrets from you, Mrs. Brown. I’ve suggested a ride in the park, not high treason."
A blush stained her cheeks. "Of course. I’m sorry. It's just that for a moment, you very much reminded me of… my husband."
She'd said as much to him once before. Compassion for her filled him, along with pride at the compliment she'd bestowed. To be compared to a man she clearly adored was an honor, and one that filled him with warmth, and something else he couldn't name.
"Thank you. And now, let us be off."
********
Geoffrey Hadmore sat in the plush leather wing chair at White's, nursing his third brandy. His reflection in the mirror across the richly paneled room indicated an outward calm he was far from feeling. Pain thumped behind his eyes and rage seethed just beneath the surface, churning in his gut. Where the hell are you, Redfern?
He rolled the crystal snifter between his palms, staring into the brandy's gently undulating amber depths. A plan took shape in his mind, and he slowly nodded to himself. Yes, if he didn't hear from the bastard by the end of the day, he'd simply take matters into his own hands.
*******
Lester Redfern watched Mrs. Brown and a gentleman settle themselves in a fancy black lacquer carriage led by a handsome set of matched grays. They entered the park, then disappeared from his view. About bloody time she'd gone out.
He patted his jacket. Pistol and knife were in place. His mouth flattened with grim determination. Pulling his hat low over his brow, he made his way toward the town house.
Chapter 7
Allie sat on a curved stone bench in Hyde Park under the shade of a massive willow and drew in a deep breath that did little to calm her.
She should not have come here.
Oh, yes, the weather was indeed lovely. A warm, summer breeze ruffled her hair, and ribbons of late afternoon sunshine filtered down through the leaves, casting striped shadows upon the ground. In the distance she could see handsome horses and carriages moving slowly around the park, and fashionably attired ladies and gentlemen strolling along the cobbled paths.
Less than thirty feet away stood the elegant black carriage that had brought them here. The coachman tended to the gray mares, offering them each a carrot he pulled from his pocket. While she couldn't deny she'd enjoyed the ride, the fresh air, and the sunshine, neither could she deny that Lord Robert's presence unsettled her in a way that was becoming more and more disturbing. Despite her best efforts to stop it, he was awakening feelings in her she'd thought she'd buried long ago. Spending more time in his increasingly pleasurable company was a very poor idea. Yet she'd been unable to resist his invitation for a ride in the park.
Holding up her gloved hand to shield her eyes from a swatch of sunlight, she observed a footman near the carriage hand Lord Robert what appeared to be a pouch. Lord Robert then walked toward her, pouch in hand, crooked grin curving his lips.
She tried to force her gaze away, but could not. He moved with lithe grace, his long, powerful boot-clad legs eating up the distance between them. An involuntary hum of pure feminine appreciation tickled her throat. Heavens above, he was truly heartstoppingly attractive. Dozens of female hearts no doubt littered his doorstep. His tailored clothing fit him to perfection, accentuating his muscular thighs and the broad expanse of his shoulders… shoulders that she vividly recalled the warmth and strength of.
Her fingers clenched in her lap, and she firmly pushed the disturbing image away. She hated that she was so intensely aware of him. What character flaw, what weakness of spirit did she possess that wouldn't allow her to strike the man from her mind? The mere thought of him made her skin tingle. And he had a way of looking at her that rendered her flustered and confused. And aching. The way he laughed one minute, then regarded her with the most serious of expressions the next, utterly confounded her. The problem is that he is just like David.
The thought stilled her. Was that the problem? Or was it perhaps the even more disconcerting possibility that he wasn't exactly like David. Certainly, in many ways he was-his easy charm, the secrets flickering in his eyes-yet in other ways he was nothing like her husband. He appeared not to possess David's impatience. And while Lord Robert was solicitous of her, he somehow did not make her feel like a useless, fragile piece of china as David often had. And his willingness to laugh at his own expense, well, that was something David never would have done. Yes, if he were just like David, she could guard herself against him. But it was these differences she sensed-
The realization of what she was doing slammed into her and she froze. Dear God, she was finding excuses to… like him. Rationalizing this impossible, unwanted attraction toward him. Convincing herself it was acceptable.
This had to stop. Immediately. She'd allowed one charming, attractive man to sweep her off her feet and he'd nearly destroyed her. She would never allow herself to fall victim to another such man or those feelings again.
"Are you ready?" Lord Robert's voice dragged her from her thoughts. He stood before her, a broad smile on his face. "This is a favorite activity of my nieces and nephew. Watch."
He set the pouch down on the bench beside her, then reached inside, pulling out two large handfuls of what appeared to be bread crumbs. He then spread his arms straight out and opened his hands, palms upward.
"Whatever are you doing?" she asked, curious in spite of herself. "You look like a scarecrow."
"Just watch. You'll see."
A trio of pigeons fluttered down. One landed on Lord Robert's outstretched right arm, the other two on his left, then proceeded to feast upon the bread crumbs in his palms.
Before she could stop it, a giggle bubbled up in her throat. "Now you truly resemble a scarecrow… a decidedly unsuccessful one."
He grinned. "I'm about to become even more unsuccessful."
Several more birds joined the fun, and in less than a minute, the very finely garbed Lord Robert Jamison had cooing pigeons resting all along his arms and shoulders. Just when she thought another bird couldn't possibly fit on him, a particularly plump, gray-breasted pigeon fluttered in. And perched itself on Lord Robert's very elegant black hat.
"Oh, my!" A burst of uncontainable merriment erupted from her, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks. "I believe the one on your hat is settling in for an extended stay."
"No doubt. Care to try it?"
She pursed her lips. "Thank you, but I'm not particularly fond of the taste of bread crumbs, and in truth, I don't believe you have any more room on your arm, or your hat, for me."
He chuckled and several pigeons ruffled their feathers. "They're very gentle. Take a handful of bread crumbs and join us."
It instantly occurred to her that David never, ever, would have suggested such a thing. And his disapproval would have prevented her from doing so. David is gone. I can do as I please.
With an almost defiant air, she rose, reached into the pouch, and grabbed two handfuls of bread crumbs. She then spread her arms as Lord Robert had done.
"Prepare yourself," he said with a chuckle. "Here they come."
A fat pigeon landed on her right arm and delicately pecked crumbs from her gloved hand. "Oh!" Before she could recover from her surprise, two more landed on her other black sleeve. The overwhelming urge to giggle seized her, ye
t she tried her utmost to contain it, not wanting to startle the birds. But the endeavor proved hopeless, and a fit of laughter seized her. Gray feathers ruffled a bit, then quickly settled back in place, the birds clearly not overly concerned about a chuckling perch.
"I wish Elizabeth was here," she said. "I would love for her to capture this moment in her sketchbook. You look so funny with that pigeon on your hat!"
"You're looking rather comical yourself. Brace yourself. One is heading for your bonnet."
"Oh, my…" She felt the weight settle on top of her head, and merriment simply consumed her. Bit by bit, the mantle of her concerns slipped from her shoulders, falling into a heap at her feet. She laughed until her sides ached and tears streamed down her cheeks. Dear God, how long had it been since she'd laughed like this? Enjoyed herself so thoroughly? Years… although it seemed like decades.
"A suitable sobriquet for you suddenly occurs to me," he said, blowing a pigeon tail feather from his chin. "I dub you Madam BOB, short for Bird-on-Bonnet."
"Very well, Sir FOF."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Feafhers-on-Face. There's a small one clinging to your cheek, and a particularly lovely one attached to your earlobe."
The laughter continued for several more minutes, then, when the supply of bread crumbs was eaten, the pigeons departed one by one. Except for the one on Lord Robert's hat.
"I think she likes you," Allie said with a laugh, as she brushed off her sleeves and resettled her bonnet.
"Either that or she's made a nest. I hope not, as this is my favorite hat." He made gentle shooing motions, but the pigeon remained. "It appears we have an extra passenger for the time being. Do you mind?"
She pressed her lips together to contain her amusement at the picture he made with that pigeon perched on his hat, but wasn't the least successful. "Not at all."
"Excellent." He extended his elbow with regal solemnity, and with equal pomp, she accepted. "I suggest we make our way to Regent Street," he said as they stepped onto the tree-lined, cobbled path leading back to the carriage. "No visit to London is complete without sampling the shops."
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