Page 48 of The Language of Love

She nodded, realizing suddenly that she trusted him—not that she was any superb judge of men, if the mistake she’d made with Mr. Leech was anything to go by.

He made a soft clucking sound, and the horses surged forward.

Annis gripped the low railing on her right side and leaned closer to Henry, clutching her reticule in her lap. For once, she was grateful that her bonnet ribbon was snarled in its habitual knot beneath her ear; her hat would go nowhere.

“Where were you headed just now?” he asked.

She could feel the vibration of his voice through her side, which was pressed up against his. He was so large and warm.

“Annis?”

“Er, I was going to Hookham’s.”

“And what were you going to borrow?”

“A novel.” She looked up at him. “Do you enjoy reading?”

His eyes were on the road ahead, which was far busier than the side street. It was the fashionable hour at Hyde Park. Oh, how her aunt would howl when she heard of this little outing. And she would hear of it, eventually.

“I enjoy reading,” he said. “A lot of manufacturing and scientific articles, by necessity, but also novels when they come my way.”

“Was manufacturing something you were involved with for the Company?”

“Er, not exactly, but I read on a wide variety of subjects.” A nerve jumped in his jaw as he navigated a wagon loaded with barrels which had stopped in the middle of the street, the dray horse blocking most of the thoroughfare.

Henry’s magnificent chestnuts, or his lordship’s more likely, were so closely matched as to be identical. They strained against the ribbons and Annis saw the muscles bunch and flex beneath the sleeve of his coat as he held them in check. He did not jerk or pull on the horses’ tender mouths, but the subtle pressure was enough to quiet the high-spirited animals and ease them through the bottleneck.

Something about his calm control made Annis clench her thighs together.

Try not to drool on him, my dear.

She jerked her gaze away from his powerful, leather-clad hands, and stared at the horses instead.

The traffic moved in a steady, slow stream as they turned into the park.

Annis adjusted her bonnet brim and tried to sink down a little lower.

“Is aught amiss?” he asked, when she turned away from an oncoming carriage which carried Priscilla Foster, a bosom beau of Miriam’s.

She looked up to find that same, tight look around his mouth; he was incredibly sensitive to snubs and slights, which made her think he must have been the recipient of many. “I am not supposed to be riding in the park.”

Rather than reassure him, his dark brows pulled down over his regal nose. “Nor attending alfresco parties, or balls, or the theater?”

He noticed my absence.

For a moment she worried she’d spoken out loud, and she flushed under his piercing examination.

Her heart sang; he had noticed her absence! Could anything be more lovely?

“Why aren’t you allowed to attend parties or take rides in the park, Annis?”

“My aunt, not unreasonably, believes I should help with various domestic matters in exchange for my upkeep and their kindness.”

His sharp gaze flickered over her walking costume; a dress she’d possessed so long it had turned from forest green to mint green.

Annis experienced a sharp pang of regret as he examined her person. She knew she was not pretty and her shabby gown made her look dowdy. Such things hadn’t bothered her when she’d walked out with Mr. Leech, but it bothered her now even though Henry didn’t wear expensive garments.

But what he lacked in fine clothing he made up for in sheer presence. While Annis was a mere dab of a female, a description she’d heard more than once and knew to be true. Even if she was wearing beautiful clothing, she would never be a suitable companion for such a magnificent man.