She paced as far as she thought was fair, given her promise, then turned and retraced her steps. Three times she crossed the square before Neville emerged. She waited, expecting him to shoot her one of his disapproving glances.
He did not.
Instead, he mounted his horse, and then clip-clopped off around the bend, seeming entirely unaware of his surroundings. Or, rather, absorbed in his private cares and concerns. Of which, he’dattemptedto suggest she was one.
…is there anything that could be of concern to you and not to me?
She hated how her heart had thumped a little harder when he’d asked her that question. As if he wanted her concerns to be his.
As if he could not conceive of a reason she would not wish for the same.
She’d always assumed Neville’s “concern” was rooted in a sense of superiority. A puffed-up sense of fraternal duty. But Cassie clearly did not think so.
Again, she recalled his heated look. And then, the lone figure in the street last night that may or may not have been Neville….
The fierce expression Neville wore as he singled her out on the Almack’s dance floor….
The bewildered, frightened expression he wore in the Yew maze, just after belatedly grabbing her shoulders and forcing their bodies apart….
Had he been so disgustedly angry because he, too, felt that same rush she’d experienced? The same ephemeral sense of belonging?
Absolutely impossible.
“What a delightful and unexpected surprise.”
She swiveled around, startled. She found herself gazing again into glittering, deep green eyes.Mesmer eyes.
“Lord Willard!”
“Miss Millicent.” He took off his hat and bowed. “I did not think I would have the pleasure again so soon.” He paused dramatically, as if he expected her to mention his failure to call.
She did not.
“Are you sure being out in this weather is wise?” He changed the subject.
She stiffened. “It is brisk, to be sure.”
“I meant no offense.” In sharp contrast to both her tone and the weather, his smile was warm. “I find there is something invigorating about a walk on a brisk, bright day. I am glad that we are of like mind.”
He placed his beaver back on his head, at an angle even more askew than he’d worn it before his bow. Was the effect charming or preposterous?
She decided on preposterous. Something she and Eliza would have mocked before Eliza had becomeThe Marchioness.
“Quite an expression you have there.” He stepped forward and surprised her by brushing a stray curl from her face. “Ah, Miss Millicent, have I roused your censure by being too forward? Your lovely face is the cause. I simply couldn’t keep my hands to myself.”
She stepped back.
He chuckled softly. “You’re not frightened of me, are you?”
“Frightened?” She lifted her chin. “Men don’t frighten me in the least.”
“Don’t they?” Laughter spread to his eyes. “Last night, you danced with charming vigor. And now I’ve discovered you are a like-minded lover of chilly walks. Naturally, you can hold your own. Huzzah to the rare lady of pluck!”
Because social custom dictated that she do so, she returned his smile. One did not purposefully offend a man like Willard. Though she objected to his use ofrare. “I’ve pluck to the backbone. Or so Mr. Winter used to say.”
“And who is Mr. Winter?” His voice went low. “I like to know my rivals.”
Rivals?“You do say the most outrageous things, Lord Willard.” She frowned. “Why do I suspect you are doing so to unsettle and upset me?”