Page 27

Verity looped her arm through his and immediately tugged him toward the door. Though he huffed, she merely giggled. The sound nearly bowled him over. He nearly smiled in return, barely able to resist.

Fortunately, she didn’t insist on dragging him all the way, as he had the landau brought around. He handed her in and joined her, picking up the reins to drive them the short blocks over to the Park.

“It’s a lovely day, don’t you think?” she commented.

“Quite. And I must say that you look lovely as well,” he added with a glance at her yellow frock.

He’d seen four new dresses and wondered if that was all of them. The thought of nothing else surprising him stirred a confusing pang of disappointment.

“Yes, you must say that to be polite. And I must say in turn that you look very well,” Verity said with a broad smile.

Tristan did a double take, catching her bright expression. She looked happy. Happier than usual. The way her eyes flitted from the sky to him made him wonder what brought her such joy. How he wished that it was him at that moment.

“Now that niceties are out of the way, as is mention of the weather, what else shall we discuss?”

Blinking, Tristan tried to focus. “What other topics are appropriate?”

“Oh, not much. I would rather discuss an inappropriate topic,” she declared.

He shot her a look but didn’t have time to respond. The smug smile on her face told him she’d done it on purpose. Which annoyed him. Intrigued him, too. Which further annoyed him.

What did she wish to discuss? Was she still in a good mood, or was she preparing to say something that would have him in an awful mood?

As they came to a stop at the edge of the Park, they paused to climb out of the landau. He paid a young man to watch it during their stroll and then took his wife’s arm.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured, before they resumed walking.

She kept a gentle grip on him, light but firm. He glanced down at her, studying the little glimpse he could see beneath the parasol she had opened to block out the sunlight.

Curls peeked from beneath her bonnet. She looked around casually, her eyes only settling on spots that caught her interest.

I could spend all day looking at Verity and still not know her.

A week, perhaps a year. When will I understand every part of this woman?

I wish I could open her pages and read her like a book to understand the depth of her character and every thought she’d ever had.

Her boldness, her gentleness—everything.

“I suppose bees and honey,” she said suddenly.

He caught his step awkwardly before resuming their stroll, giving her an inquisitive look.

“Wouldn’t they be an inappropriate topic? It is labor they offer, after all.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he muttered in a flat tone.

She widened her eyes. “The bees? Or their labor?”

“In general, it is a ridiculous topic to bring up, for there is little to discuss beyond the act of flitting from flower to flower and returning pollen to the hives to produce honey. Or something like that,” he said mildly.

“But that is interesting,” she insisted, accepting his help to avoid a child racing with a hoop and stick in their way. “Besides, bees are not wasps. They’re so similar but different. I’m certain that a philosopher could expound on such a concept, wouldn’t you agree?”

Glancing around, he pointed out, “There are no philosophers here.”

“I don’t think you must go to university to become one. A philosopher is a thinker of ideas. Don’t you have ideas?” she prodded.

“Certainly. But I wouldn’t agree that my ideas make me a philosopher.”

“Then perhaps you need better ideas.”

Tristan shot her an incredulous look. “You don’t even know what my ideas are and yet you criticize them.”

She lowered her parasol and closed it. As she played with it, it shifted from her shoulder to lean against her lips for a moment. He struggled to look away from her then.

“Fine. Tell me some of your ideas.”

“About what?”

“Anything. You said you have ideas.” She let out a short, throaty chuckle.

“This is not an inquisition, Tristan. You do know this, don’t you?

I only wish to hear from you. Why don’t you tell me about the business that brought you down here to London?

Have you thought of ways to fix whatever problems arose? ”

Tristan hedged, certain he would bore her to tears. “Nearly. It’s hardly conversation for a lady’s ears.”

“Then it’s inappropriate?”

He swore her eyes twinkled like moonlight in the middle of the day as they rose to his.

Something in the back of his mind told him that women didn’t talk to him like this.

But Verity was there, looking and listening, warm on his arm.

He couldn’t think clearly enough to dissuade her from anything she might desire.

“Do tell.”

So he told her everything. He explained the contract and the errors, the legal risks and the consequences of incorrect signatures. To his surprise, she asked thoughtful questions.

Time passed until he realized they’d already reached the other end of Hyde Park. As they slowly made their way back to the landau, however, he noticed how much more crowded their stroll had become. Verity waved to someone before he neatly nudged her to the side so another group could pass by.

Many people managed to accost them. Everyone wanted to greet them. Or Verity, to be more specific. Tristan grew antsy, holding her hand on his arm with his other hand while he felt sweat dripping down his neck.

Good Lord, all of London must be here. And of course, they insist on conversation. And smiles. And waves. I hate nothing more than waving.

“How noisy it has grown,” Verity announced. She shifted her parasol to her shoulder and nodded ahead. “Why don’t we see where that path leads?”

“Thank heavens,” Tristan muttered under his breath, before hastily leading her over. “What is everyone doing here?”

She patted his arm. “Everyone merely wants to have an enjoyable afternoon. They don’t mean anything by it. I do believe we can take this quieter trail back to the landau.”

Tristan opened his mouth to point out that they might still run into people, but then he clamped his lips shut, realizing what she was saying.

His gaze flitted down to her again and again as he considered her clever move to escape the crowd. And she had done it for him, noticing his discomfort.

Thinking back, he couldn’t recall Cassandra ever doing such a thing for him. All she wanted was for him to stay out of her way or to be there, parading her around.

“Oh dear,” Verity murmured in a rush, tugging him closer.

“That’s the Countess of Rensfield. She’s wed to the Earl of Rensfield, who is a distant relation of Aunt Eugenia.

The woman she walks with is her daughter, but Lady Emily hardly ever speaks aloud.

However, we did just receive an invitation for a ball they’re hosting.

Lady Rensfield may try to remind us to attend, but I’ll tell her we have other plans. ”

Tristan barely had time to nod before the Countess and her daughter were upon them. Three little white dogs stood amongst the party as well, yipping while introductions were made.

After Lady Rensfield chattered on about her last letter from Eugenia, she touched Verity’s arm.

“You’re fortunate to have such an aunt. I do wish she would come to London for part of the Season, but she hinted at traveling to Bath.

Still, we would very much love to have her at our Harvest Ball.

Invitations were sent out just a few days ago.

I trust you have received yours?” she added hopefully.

Glancing up at her husband, Verity nodded. He could feel her hesitate. Clearly, she didn’t wish to disappoint the woman. “Yes, thank you. It was very generous of you to invite us.”

“Oh, it would be an honor to have you there. Please tell me that you will both attend?”

“I’m afraid we?—”

Tristan found himself interrupting in the hope of putting a smile on his wife’s face again. “We’ve lost the invitation, so we could not respond. But do send us another one and we shall be there.”

Tightening her grip on his arm in surprise, Verity twisted to look up at him again through her big, curious eyes. “We shall?”

Her surprise made him frown, wondering if his good deed was a mistake. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I…” She turned away without answering, making his stomach lurch.

His body went stiff, rooted to the ground, and his irritation grew.

Verity smiled at the Countess. “As I said, we are very appreciative. Thank you for thinking of us.”

Nodding with glee, the older woman clapped her hands. “Emily and I shall have a new invitation hand-delivered before the day is out. We shall add you to the list. How wonderful!”

Though Verity smiled, she didn’t smile at him.

The Countess took her leave then, with her daughter and dogs in tow.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Though Verity gave him an odd look, she said nothing.

Perhaps he had made a mistake.

Their ride home was quiet but for the chaos of the London streets. And once they were in the townhouse, they went their separate ways, uncertainty growing every minute.