“
Why did you come here-that is, why did you agree to reconsider my proposal?”
The question alarmed and startled her. Now that she’d seen him she had only the dimmest, possibly even erroneous recollection of having spoken to him at a ball. Moreover, she couldn’t tell him she was in danger of being cut off by her uncle, for that whole explanation was to humiliating to bear mentioning.
“Did I do or say something during our brief meetings the year before last to mislead you, perhaps, into believing I might yearn for the city life?”
“It’s hard to say,” Elizabeth said with absolute honesty.
“Lady Cameron, do you even remember our meeting?”
“Oh, yes, of course. Certainly,” Elizabeth replied, belatedly recalling a man who looked very like him being presented to her at Lady Markham’s. That was it! “We met at Lady Markham’s ball.”
His gaze never left her face. “We met in the park.”
“In the park?” Elizabeth repeated in sublime embarrassment.
“You had stopped to admire the flowers, and the young gentleman who was your escort that day introduced us.”
“I see,” Elizabeth replied, her gaze skating away from his.
“Would you care to know what we discussed that day and the next day when I escorted you back to the park?”
Curiosity and embarrassment warred, and curiosity won out. “Yes, I would.”
“Fishing.”
“F-fishing?” Elizabeth gasped.
He nodded. “Within minutes after we were introduced I mentioned that I had not come to London for the Season, as you supposed, but that I was on my way to Scotland to do some fishing and was leaving London the very next day.”
An awful feeling of foreboding crept over Elizabeth as something stirred in her memory. “We had a charming chat,” he continued. “You spoke enthusiastically of a particularly challenging trout you were once able to land.”
Elizabeth’s face felt as hot as red coals as he continued, “We quite forgot the time and your poor escort as we shared fishing stories.”
He was quiet, waiting, and when Elizabeth couldn’t endure the damning silence anymore she said uneasily, “Was there…more?”
“Very little. I did not leave for Scotland the next day but stayed instead to call upon you. You abandoned the half-dozen young bucks who’d come to escort you to some sort of fancy soiree and chose instead to go for another impromptu walk in the park with me.”
Elizabeth swallowed audibly, unable to meet his eyes.
“Would you like to know what we talked about that day?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
He chucked but ignored her reply, “You professed to be somewhat weary of the social whirl and confessed to a longing to be in the country that day-which is why we went to the park. We had a charming time, I thought.”
When he fell silent, Elizabeth forced herself to meet his gaze and say with resignation, “And we talked of fishing?”
“No,” he said. “Of boar hunting.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes in sublime shame.
“You related an exciting tale of a wild board your father had shot long ago, and of how you watched the hunt-without permission-from the very tree below which the boar as ultimately felled. As I recall,” he finished kindly, “you told me that it was your impulsive cheer that revealed your hiding place to the hunters-and that caused you to be seriously reprimanded by your father.”
Elizabeth saw the twinkle lighting his eyes, and suddenly they both laughed.
“I remember your laugh, too,” he said, still smiling, “I thought it was the loveliest sound imaginable. So much so that between it and our delightful conversation I felt very much at ease in your company.” Realizing he’d just flattered her, he flushed, tugged at his neckcloth, and self-consciously looked away.
”
”