Page 10 of Courting the Duke (Reimagined Regency #2)

“You were quite young and not yet out of the nursery.” Miss Deburgiak glanced at him, her amber eyes alit with compassion.

She had a spray of freckles over her nose and a healthy blush on the apples of her cheeks.

The wind had picked up, and the fabric of her skirts fluttered in the breeze. “A mere babe.”

“To a young child, birds are very loud and often frighten people when they spread their wings.” Hoxton hadn’t always carried an affinity for birds. He’d been indifferent until his uncle showed him their true beauty.

“Indeed, I am sure you are correct.” Lady Roxanne didn’t sound very convinced.

The path split, and he guided them down the left fork.

A folly was surrounded by trimmed hedges, and in the distance, green grass grew around a large pond.

Two gentlemen were moving along the path on the other side.

Blackstone and Stiller. His grandmother had insisted that Imogene invite the gentlemen to round out their house party in hopes of snagging one of them for Daisy.

His contrary cousin continued to show no interest in either man.

Hoxton was pleased she ignored Blackstone, but he wouldn’t be upset if she accepted Stiller’s suit.

He was an agreeable man from a very wealthy and prestigious family.

“As you can see, the peacocks are on the other side of the lake. We needn’t get too close to them.”

Lady Roxanne’s fingers flexed on his sleeve as she dutifully followed his direction. Stiller and Blackstone had stopped near the birds, and the male began to squawk at them.

“Oh, look,” Miss Deburgiak said as the male spread his plumage at the perceived threat.

Eagerness lit up her eyes, and the way she smiled in genuine pleasure sent a smile to his own lips.

Unlike her cousin, she obviously liked birds, and Rapscallion still sang her “Pretty Bird” song. “How beautiful is he?”

Lady Roxanne didn’t seem as enthused and hung back.

He patted her hand, attempting to provide her with comfort.

The fact that she wasn’t fond of birds was discouraging, but not enough to keep him from offering for her hand.

It would be ideal, but not necessary. He pointed at a spot near the pond.

“Male peacocks try to make themselves larger in response to a perceived threat. If you look past him, you will see the peahens.”

“They are rather plain Janes, aren’t they?

” Lady Roxanne angled her head, watching the male peacock’s comb grow in size.

The more his wings ascended, the broader her smile became.

She beamed at him, enthusiasm enhancing her lovely countenance.

“Oh, Serena, look how lovely he is. I think I would like to have a peacock feather fan after all.”

“He is a handsome bird,” Miss Deburgiak said.

“The birds shed their feathers during mating season, which sadly is over.” Hoxton inspected the sky as a brisk wind blew and black clouds began to eclipse the lighter ones, heralding an impending storm. He prayed the rain might pass over them, but he wasn’t confident of the outcome.

“Can’t you simply pluck them from the animal?” Lady Roxanne asked, brushing back a curl that the wind displaced. If she noticed the weather, she didn’t let on.

“Not while it is alive.” Miss Deburgiak’s lips curled in amusement, climbing the slight bit at the edge. “I would imagine they might object to such behavior.”

Lady Roxanne furrowed her eyebrows before catching herself. Her blue eyes widened to relieve her forehead of the wrinkles, giving her an unintentional look of surprise. “Once it is dead, they can be had?”

“I don’t think Hoxton wishes to kill his beloved pets for their feathers,” Miss Deburgiak quietly said.

“Beg pardon.” Lady Roxanne glanced over at him and offered an apology in a breathy voice, “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You haven’t offended me. My younger cousins often gather the feathers for their own gewgaws.

I can inquire if they have an overabundance for your use.

” While Miss Deburgiak was right that they were his pets—for a better word—peacocks were a delicacy that many considered being both food and ornamental.

The wind continued to blow, ruffling the ladies’ skirts. “A storm is rolling in,” Miss Deburgiak said, glancing at her charge with concern.

“Would you ladies like to—” he began.

“Lady Roxanne, Hoxton,” Stiller called out, waving to them and cutting off Hoxton. Lady Roxanne’s dour expression faded away, joy alighting her face. She waved back with equal enthusiasm.

From the answering eagerness in Stiller’s gaze, each had feelings for the other.

As her prospective husband, Hoxton should have taken offense, but he was oddly indifferent.

He chanced a glance at Miss Deburgiak. A touch of disapproval and acceptance tightened her lips.

Her reaction said everything. She turned her head to watch him watching her, and a hint of panic glittered in her gaze before she looked away.

Blackstone scowled, and Hoxton had no doubt the other gentleman had noticed as well.

The question for Hoxton was what to do about it.

Either he could ignore their emotional connection and press on with the match, or beg off.

Neither Imogene, his grandmother, nor the countess would be happy with him ending his interest in Lady Roxanne.

Lady Roxanne tightened her hand on his sleeve, anchoring herself by his side.

Perhaps he was reading too much into it.

Or perhaps not. Either way, he had much to consider.