Lydia’s maid had fallen so far behind, she worried the poor girl was lost.
She paused to look back over her shoulder and smiled at the sight of Kitty looking around her distractedly.
It wasn’t the first time the girl had acted as a companion on one of her long walks to Whitehall, and the girl claimed to like the exercise, but each time Kitty seemed overwhelmed by all the new sights and sounds outside their neighborhood.
Lydia kept walking. Kitty would catch up, and she knew precisely where Lydia was headed. Luncheons with her father had become a regular occurrence since she’d started at the School of Charm.
It was nice, actually, these little one-on-one outings of theirs. She suspected she spent more time with her father now than she had when they’d lived in the same home.
And without her mother there, interjecting with the topic of Lydia’s prospects and Lydia’s “problem,” as she called it, they actually managed to speak of a great many things.
Or, he did. She listened. But she enjoyed listening. He never spoke of work, but even without that, her father lived a far more interesting life than she.
A gust of wind hit her and she clutched her book to her chest, as if that might protect her from the early spring chill. It didn’t. But the reminder of the book in her hands filled her with heat all the same.
Her cheeks burned even now, days later. Embarrassment churned in her belly. He’d thought she’d been eavesdropping!
Which, to be fair, she sort of had been, but only because she couldn’t not hear them. But then they’d moved away and she hadn’t heard a word.
But she hadn’t been able to come out of her hiding spot either because…
Well, because he’d been there. Hogan, the other man had called him. Every time she’d tried to slide out of her hiding spot and leave the park, his gaze had been fixed on her.
How humiliating.
But...
She gave her head a swift shake. There was no use worrying about it any longer. She’d lain awake the last three nights replaying the incident, and wishing that she could go back in time and physically rip her tongue from where it had stuck to the roof of her mouth so perhaps he might have actually heard her when she’d said I was here first.
She’d said it. Sort of. But he clearly hadn’t heard.
Her lips curled down in a frown as she remembered his odd allegations. As if she’d been following them and listening in on purpose.
Who would do such a thing? And why?
But no, she’d vowed to stop thinking about the dreadful accusations or the mortifying way she’d frozen in terror in the face of his laughing eyes and handsome features.
Goodness, he truly was her worst nightmare. Handsome men were torturous to be around—in real life, obviously. In books they were lovely.
But between his handsome looks and his charming, wry smile that seemed to say ‘I don’t take anything too seriously, darling. You can tell me anything and I’ll understand.’
It was disarming.
And it would have been rather...delightful.
If he’d been a character in a book.
All and all, he was dashing, she decided as she followed the familiar path toward the Treasury Building which housed the Home Office where her father presided. Her lips twitched upwards now, more content now that she’d found the right word to describe him.
It wasn’t a word she’d ever been able to use to describe a man of her acquaintance before.
But then again, she didn’t have many men in her small circle of acquaintances. Perhaps the city was riddled with dashing, tall, broad-shouldered gentlemen with lovely, rumbly baritone voices.
She sighed as she rounded the corner to her father’s building, the sound admittedly mawkish. But there was no harm in daydreaming about a man such as her mysterious Hogan, now was there?
She was so lost in remembering every detail of the man’s glittering hazel eyes and his chiseled jaw that she ran straight into someone.
Or rather, the woman rammed right into her.
The other woman had been coming out of the back exit to the building and the woman’s satchel went flying, contents spilling out as Lydia’s book fell with a clatter—again. Her poor book. With a flurry of apologies on both sides, the two women crouched down and began to gather their things.
“So clumsy of me,” the woman said, her voice tinged with a cockney accent.
Lydia smiled. “And me,” she said.
“Looks like we have quite a bit in common,” the woman said with a grin as she glanced toward Lydia’s hair. Out of instinct Lydia touched it and then she realized that beneath the hooded cape the woman wore, she too had bright red hair.
Lydia laughed. “So we do.”
The woman’s smile fell when she glanced over Lydia’s shoulder, but it was bright once more as she turned back to Lydia. “Must be off. Sorry again!”
And then she was scurrying away as Lydia got to her feet, looked down to brush off her skirts and then—
“There you are.”
She froze, her gaze still down on the ground. That voice. She’d heard it so many times in her memory these last few days, she’d recognize it anywhere.
Her heart slammed against her ribcage and for a moment, she thought about running. But she’d frozen in place for too long, because she felt his shadow fall over her before his feet came into view.
“I’ve been looking all over the city for you,” he said.
Her head snapped up and her gaze met his, which was incredulous. And for a moment, her heart stopped. Her lungs seized. Her belly did a fantastic flip before diving down to her toes.
He’d been looking for her.
The world seemed to spin and for a moment she felt as if she’d tumbled headfirst into one of her novels. The dashing hero falls head over heels for the damsel in distress…
She blinked, coming to her senses when he stepped closer.
He was a stranger. She had no reason to believe he was a hero. She was not so foolish as to believe that a handsome face meant he was pure of heart.
And besides, she was no damsel.
Shy, yes. But she didn’t need saving.
So, with his next step forward, she took a bigger step back. Reason finally fully restored.
“Don’t run.” He held his hands up, palms out. His voice was soothing like he was speaking to a spooked colt.
Who are you? She wanted to ask.
Actually, there were a dozen questions that filled her mind, but her tongue refused to budge.
Drat. She resisted the urge to stomp her foot in frustration.
And then he smiled, the curve of his lips making her heart give a harsh thud. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” His smile remained but now she noticed that glimmer in his eyes.
Curiosity, perhaps. Or something far more clever...
The look wasn’t quite devious but it still set her on edge and cut through that silly, dreamy, swoony sensation brought on by his smile and his words.
“I think it’s time we talked, you and I. Don’t you?” His voice was soft and warm, and Lydia was fairly certain it melted over her.
Talk. He wanted her to talk?
The thought had a hysterical laugh rising up in her before she could stop it and it came out as a high, embarrassing giggle. She clamped her mouth shut as his brows arched in surprise, his smile seeming more genuine.
“Is that so amusing?”
No. Of course not. But then again she thought of what he was asking of her. Lydia. The shy, awkward, bookish girl best known for disappearing behind curtains and hiding behind ferns.
And he wanted her to talk. To him. The most dashing man she’d ever met.
He was waiting for her to speak. Heat snuck up her neck and into her cheeks. The most dashing man she’d ever met?
But she hadn’t met him.
She took a step back. “I-I...” She shook her head in frustration.
Oh good grief. Just once, she wished she could get the words in her head out of her mouth like a normal young lady.
“What is it, love?”
Her lips parted in surprise at the gentle tone as much as the endearment. Combined they made her chest ache.
What would it be like to be courted by a man who spoke so gently, and who looked at you like this? Like he had all the time to wait for you to find the right words.
She swallowed hard and wet her lips. “We haven’t been introduced.”
It came out as a whisper, and for a second she thought he hadn’t heard. But then his smile grew and he clapped a hand to his chest.
“You’re right. How thoughtless of me.” He reached for her hand but let his drop when she recoiled in fear. Instead, he cut a short bow that had her lips twitching with amusement.
“What a thoughtless cad to go all this time without introducing myself to an exquisite beauty such as yourself.”
Her cheeks felt like they were on fire now.
Was he teasing?
Of course, he was. No one said such things in earnest.
Uncertainty had her looking around again.
“Tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine,” he said.
Her gaze darted back to his. Goodness, his voice was so inviting. So warm and low and confident and…
A lady could fall under its spell easily indeed.
“Er...” It came out more like a squeak of alarm. But really. What was she doing talking to a complete stranger in public like this?
And where was Kitty?
This man could be dangerous for all she knew.
She heard people coming from her father’s building. Perhaps her father could save her. But a quick glance made her heart sink.
She recognized the man coming toward them, but it wasn’t her father. It was Wendell.
Lydia ought to like him too, by all accounts. He was nice to her these days.
But...too nice.
And she was well aware of how odd that sounded. Her mother had scolded her when she’d tried to say as much. A girl like you ought to be grateful for any gentleman’s kindness.
The words still stung now, days later.
Lydia tore her gaze from Wendell but found herself looking up into the too intense by far gaze of the mystery man, and she...
She panicked.
She had no more decided to run then she saw realization dawn in the stranger’s eyes.
She was going to run...and he knew it.
“Sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure he heard.
Fear and the overwhelming need to avoid Wendell had her turning on her heel, ignoring the stranger’s protest. She barely even heard him as she turned and fled, nearly bumping into Kitty as she retraced her steps.
“Aren’t we going to see your father?” she asked.
“Maybe tomorrow,” she said, winded from her run.
Kitty shrugged. “Very well.”
Lydia sighed with relief when she glanced back and saw that no one had followed her. Not Wendell, and definitely not her mystery man.
Which was a relief, she reminded herself. It was for the best that she’d never see him again.
And if her heart felt a little heavier as she trudged back toward the School of Charm, well...
She’d forget about that soon enough.