Page 54 of Ravishing Camille

He shook his head once.

She grinned.

“Mischievous chit,” he muttered and Joseph widened his eyes, affronted for his mistress.

“Not to worry, Pierce. You’ll learn quickly. Won’t he, Joseph?”

“Aye, miss.” But he sounded skeptical.

They were off down the alley toward the entrance to Hyde Park, and as he struggled to find his balance, he debated why she was angry with him. He might know…but then again, he might not. Since he couldn’t read her mind, unlike other women with whom he was acquainted. Once he maintained a modicum of stability on the wobbly thing, he hailed her.

“You don’t have to run off, do you?”

“Want me to appear to be with you, do you?”

“That would help,” he said, when he came abreast of her and they reached the pair of broad gates to the Park near old Wellington’s house.

“I want to be out this morning.” She regarded him and her eyes were dark with a sad determination. “For your information, no. I’m not concerned about appearances. I will be out and about. I will not hide. If that makes me brazen, then…” She shrugged a shoulder. “What I can do is use it to my advantage. A girl gets an idea she can stand up for herself if she sees other women do it. And I won’t hide. Not from Connor. Not from the world. Not from you. We can have that talk you want here in the park. A good idea, don’t you think? To be among hundreds of people where I can’t possibly react except as a lady should. Come along now. Keep up. I know you’re eager to tell me to stay away from you.”

Then she peddled away.

* * *

He caught up to her, but it was no easy task.

She cast a glance at his feet on the pedals.

He chuckled. “You’re enjoying this.”

“True.” She tossed her curls that escaped her tam and threw him a short but apologetic smile.

They ate up a mile or more before she spoke. “I had no idea Connor had that in him.”

“I may have.”

She tipped her head. “What do you mean?”

“I saw him in the Lanes that day he showed up at your autographing party. He had an altercation with a woman who was very upset with him.”

She caught his gaze. “Did he know you’d seen him?”

“I doubt it. When he appeared in the book shop and you introduced us, he gave no indications of having seen me witness it.”

She slowed, came to a stop and walked the bicycle.

He was happy to do the same.

A frown marred her brow. “That means his anger last night was a result of what he saw at the theatre.”

“He witnessed a lot.”

She pressed her lips together. “He did.”

“Whisky did not help. But the greater matter, Camille, is that he is not for you. The woman he argued with in the Lanes was no lady.”

She faced him then, and she was angry. “Many men have relationships which are not—shall we say—sanctioned by God. And many women who cannot earn a living wage any other way cater to their appetites. Is it not true that men learn how to behave in the bedroom with women who are in need of their coin?”

He simply nodded and walked his bicycle toward the park bench nestled in a maze of white late blooming field lilies. Resting the contraption against the back of the bench, he said, “You’re right. Can I blame him for society’s dictums? No. But I can blame him for losing his temper, insulting you and hurting you. But I also know that he may want you for your dowry and your connections.”