Page 11

Miles had to fight the instinct to reach for her arm and ask her to stay with him a bit longer. After all, he reminded himself, he wasn’t interested in any entanglement—though all of a sudden his reasons for declaring this weren’t as clear as they’d once been. No matter. He shook himself. “I will walk you to your carriage then.” After all, that was the gentlemanly thing to do and had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to spend as much time as he could with her, stretching out every minute for as long as he could.

The carriage was but a few steps away and once there, he could finally touch her, as he assisted her onto the wooden stool the driver produced for the task, and then into the carriage.

He took her elbow as she lifted her skirts and stepped up. It was an informal touch. He’d helped many women get into carriages, so it startled him when it affected him, sending a jolt of something that sparked up his arm and across his chest to wrap around his heart. Thrown off balance by this reaction, he let his fingers linger on her arm just a bit too long. Siobhan’s eyes swung to his, the ice blue pools taking him in. A slight crinkle formed between her brows. The moment was fleeting, but he could swear she, too, was surprised by whatever magnetic, unexpected physical reactions transpired between them.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, my lord,” she said, her voice husky as it brushed his ears.

If the driver noticed anything, the man did not give it away; his expression was stoic as he closed the door and picked up the stool. Then the sturdy man touched his cap and tilted his head in a slight bow. “My lord.”

Miles stepped back and onto the sidewalk as the carriage pulled away.

“Sir!” A man from the market waved both arms and then motioned to his horse, feasting on a display of apples. Several had been dislodged and were on the ground as the incorrigible beast had nosed through the carefully crafted pyramid of fruit, destroying it as it searched out the perfect one.

Running over to the stall, Miles grabbed the reins. He’d not realized he’d released them while helping Siobhan into the carriage. Or maybe before that. He’d lost track of himself because he’d been so focused on the intriguing, curious miss.

“I do apologize.” Miles pulled out his purse and paid more than the amount the man asked for. “I will take all the ones on the ground as well.”

The man’s eyes widened when he counted the coins. “Of course, sir.” He helped put the apples into a bag which Miles attached to his saddle before he mounted up and headed to his townhouse.

Thankfully there were no planned outings the following day, which meant Miles had time to work on his plans to amass the amount needed for the sponsorship of a ship on which he and his friends were collaborating. He’d wasted enough time and if he was to win the wager he’d set, he had little time left.

Once arriving at his townhouse in the pristine area of town, he dismounted and gave the groom instructions to cut another apple for the horse and to give a few apples to his other steed. The groom laughed when Miles told him what the horse had done, and he ended up joining in with mirth.

The fire in the hearth along with the light from several lanterns greeted him when he entered the house. It was mid-day, and he had no plans other than to review financial ledgers and prepare to meet with his father the following day. Most of the accounting was done; all that was needed was to write a brief report. Once that was completed, he could perhaps read.

“Would you care for tea, my lord?” Firtha the housekeeper asked, entering the room behind him with a bowl of water and a washcloth.

Miles dipped the cloth into the lemon-scented water and ran it over his face, neck, and both hands. “I would. Perhaps something light to eat.”

He lowered to sit behind the desk and opened the ledger. The numbers swam across the paper, making little sense. As birdsong sounded, he looked out the window to find a pair of birds on a branch just outside. The tiny creatures sang their hearts out as if challenging each other in a contest. It reminded him of Siobhan and how she seemed to enjoy challenging him, which made him wonder what she was doing now. Was she out for a ride with her mother and sister as she’d thought she might be? It was a lovely day for that, he had to admit. Would she agree, he wondered. And, if she did…he didn’t let himself finish that thought because he might end up talking himself out of his impulsive decision.

The housekeeper reentered, and he waved the tray away. “Please send the footman to tell the groom, I would like my other steed saddled at once.”

“You are going out again?” Often the woman left off his title as she’d raised him from a bairn. When she did, he never corrected her.

“I am. Do you require anything?”

If she was surprised by his question, she didn’t show it. Instead she studied the tray. “Eat first. Drink your tea. You have time. Otherwise, you may get a headache.” Apparently, she was still raising him, a fact that warmed his heart instead of annoying him.

Miles nodded. “I will eat while my horse is prepared.”

What Firtha said was a stark reminder of the ailment he suffered from that very few knew about. But the fact was, unpredictable and crippling headaches were the ever-present danger in his day-to-day life. Because of them, he’d acquired a reputation for being aloof, as they sometimes caused him to flee gatherings without explanation. He lived in fear of their occurrence, rarely accepted outings to the country.

They were one of the reasons he disliked balls and routs, and spent as much time as he could outside on the balconies and avoiding conversation. It wasn’t all because he eschewed the idea of marriage; he had a physical reason, a flaw, and he didn’t want to let it be known. The headaches struck without warning, though often they followed too much activity, bright lights, or loud noises and gatherings. Indeed, the last two headaches had happened after attending crowded, noisy balls.

Ever vigilant and the one person who knew him better than any other, Firtha had noticed that they occurred less—or at least, lessened in severity—when he ate consistently and slept well; of course, this made her increase her mothering. But for that, he was grateful, because what young man wanted to maintain an old man’s lifestyle? She made sure he took care of himself, and as a result few other people besides his family knew about his affliction. It had been weeks since the last time he’d remained in his bedchamber for days, blind with pain.

So now, Miles ate everything on the plate and slowly sipped his tea. The liquid calmed him, and the warmth enveloped him, and he was confident he’d be without pain or worry.

*

The park was teeming with people who’d taken advantage of the warm weather and gone out for a promenade. Carriages circled, couples strolled, and people on horseback rode side-by-side around the perimeter of the beautifully landscaped and plush gardens of the park.

Benches were deliberately set here and there, allowing for those wishing to rest to have shade and just enough privacy. Canopies were erected on the center lawn, under which families sat on colorful blankets drinking tea and taking in the sights.

It was all deliberate. A way to see and be seen for the genteel set. People used the experience for visiting and conversation. And gossip, of course. All under the guise of fresh air and wholesome activity.

Absently, Miles wondered if his mother and sister had somehow convinced his father to come out. Probably not. Otherwise, a message would have been sent to him to join them in a formal family outing.