England's Perfect Hero (12 page)

He counted off every second of every minute. In one-second increments, he could survive. He made it through twelve seconds, through three minutes and twenty-eight seconds, through nine minutes. He'd lived seven months of his life by the second. This wasn't easy, but it was survivable, and while he counted, he couldn't drown. Besides, tomorrow he was going riding with Lucinda Barrett, and she had the gift of turning seconds into minutes.

Finally he reached fifteen. "I'm leaving," he said, pushing back from the table.

"We'll all go," Tristan said, signaling for the bill. He quickly signed for it to go to his account, and the three of them rose.

"That was actually a nice gesture on Wellington's part," Shaw said, climbing into the coach as it stopped beside them. "I very much doubt he thanks everyone for their contribution at Waterloo."

Robert pulled the door closed as he sat, for once grateful to trade the crowd for a small space. "He doesn't know anything," he growled, folding his arms so his brothers wouldn't see his hands shaking.

"Don't underestimate yourself, Bit. If he thanked you, then you deserved—"

"Shaw," Tristan cautioned, "leave it be."

"I wasn't at Waterloo," Robert returned, then closed his eyes so he couldn't see the shock on Shaw's face.
Ha
. Now another brother could join in the general disappointment over his so-called life.

"My father said that Wellington singled you out yesterday."

Lucinda slipped on her riding gloves, gazing at Robert from the corner of her eye while he paced her front drive. His bay walked a step behind him, gauging his owner's turns to perfection despite the fact that the reins were looped over the saddle, and nothing connected one to the other.

"He thanked you for your service at Waterloo," she continued, when he declined to answer. "That was nice of him."

"Why is that?" Robert grunted, then went back to his pacing as her groom brought Isis up from the stable.

And to think, she might have been weeding her garden this morning
. "It's generally considered nice when someone thanks you for your efforts," she returned.

Robert threw a glance at her groom, then limped forward to offer her a hand into the saddle. "He was pointing out that
he
was in command at Waterloo, and that the nation actually owes
him
thanks," he said in his low voice. "I would imagine he's laying the groundwork for becoming prime minister. Where I was or what I did has absolutely nothing to do with it."

Lucinda stepped into his hands and let him boost her up into the sidesaddle. "Do you know all that, or are you just guessing?"

As he walked away from her, and then swung into his saddle in one fluid motion, she didn't think he would answer. It didn't matter what he said, she supposed; the most remarkable outcome of his outing yesterday seemed to be that her father had mentioned his name without scowling.

"Deductive reasoning," he finally said, nudging his animal up beside her. "Do you want to go riding, or do you want to go to Hyde Park?"

She understood what he meant; at this time of morning, managing even a steady walk through the park would take a near miracle. A ride, though, would mean heading north, out of London—spending more time with Robert and risking being late for Lord Geoffrey's visit this afternoon.

Dark blue eyes watched her. He probably knew about her father's scheduled meeting with Lord Geoffrey, because he knew everything, and he was daring her to make a choice. It would make sense if he were a suitor, but he was supposed to be helping her in regards
to
Geoffrey. Still…

"I would like to go riding," she said.

Something flashed deep in his eyes before he nodded. "I'll have you back for luncheon." With a shift of his knee he sent his mount down the drive.

"Urn, Robert?"

He pulled up. "Changed your mind?"

"Did you bring along a chaperone?"

Robert looked at her blankly for a moment. Then he grinned. The change to his countenance was remarkable, with twinkling eyes that crinkled in the corners, and an openness to his smile that made her want to sigh—and to grin back at him. My
heavens
.

"I haven't—" he began, then stopped to clear his throat. "My apologies. I didn't think of it."

She twisted to face the house. "Benjamin? Please saddle a mount and join us."

"Yes, Miss Lucinda." The groom hurried back around the far corner of the house.

"Not very gentlemanly of me, was it?" he offered, the remains of his amusement still dancing in his eyes.

Lucinda smiled. "In a way, it's nattering."

"How so?"

"Well, a chaperone would protect good little me from big bad you. I choose to think that you see us on more equal footing than that."

"A nice way of saying that I have no teeth."

To her surprise, he didn't seem offended by the notion. Lord Geoffrey, if he ever offered to take her anywhere, would more than likely make some comment that she would need a chaperone to protect her maidenly virtue from his manly rakishness.

"It's not that," she returned. "I think you have teeth. It's just that you also have honor."

He looked at her for a moment, the expression in his eyes growing cool again. "You're wrong about that, but thank you."

Benjamin trotted around the corner of the house. With the groom following a few yards behind them, they headed down the drive and turned north.

"Georgiana always said you were a fine rider," she commented after they'd gone a mile in silence. "I see that she's right." In truth, he and his mount seemed so… connected that she doubted he even needed to use the reins.

"I like to ride. When I came back from Spain I wasn't certain Tolley would even recognize me, but he did." He patted the bay on the neck, affection in both the motion and his tone. "Better than I did," he continued in a quieter voice.

Lucinda swallowed. For the first time it felt as if this private, solitary man had let her inside, just a little. And abruptly she wasn't certain whether she was worthy of being there. It made everything seem… different. She wasn't performing an act of charity; a very private man was doing her the honor of letting her glimpse his life.

"Since we're working on getting Lord Geoffrey to comply with your first lesson," he said in a more conversational tone, "perhaps you might tell me your second."

She swallowed. Back to business. It was too unsettling to think this might be something other than a trade of favors. "Wait a moment. How are we getting Lord Geoffrey to pay his undivided attention to whichever female he is speaking?"

"Attention to
you
, you mean," he countered.

Well, she'd never admitted to him that she was plotting marriage with Lord Geoffrey, but denying it at this point didn't seem to serve much purpose. "All right, attention to me," she agreed. "How are you doing this?"

Robert hesitated. "It's complicated."

"I'm fairly intelligent," she said dryly, trying to set him back at ease. "Humor me."

He cleared his throat. "Apologies again. I… You'd think I would be better at choosing words, with the small quantity of them I use."

Laughter escaped her lips before she could stop herself. His sense of humor was so unexpected. She'd glimpsed it before, and Georgie had mentioned it, but she just assumed that he never showed that side of himself to outsiders. Again she felt honored. And surprised to realize that she enjoyed bantering with him. "Don't apologize," she said, grinning. "I'll let you know when I'm offended. And don't change the subject. How are we working on lesson number one?"

"Look to your right," he murmured, maneuvering Tolley closer.

She looked. They were passing by the front entrance of Gentleman Jackson's boxing establishment. As they crossed, Earl Clanfeld and William Pierce turned from their conversation on the steps to watch them.

"Lord Clanfeld and Mr. Pierce?"

"They're good friends of your Lord Geoffrey, and coincidentally they happen to be on their way to meet him at White's."

"How do you know that?"

He shrugged. "I pay attention."

Remarkable. She wondered whether he had everyone's schedule memorized, and how much he managed to overhear simply because he had the ability to make himself virtually invisible. No wonder more than a few people claimed he could read minds.

"All right, so they all meet at White's this morning. What good does that do us?"

"They know that Lord Geoffrey is meeting you and the General today for luncheon. You will come up in the conversation, and then so will the fact that you spent your morning with another man. We'll also manage to return you home slightly late, so he'll see you arrive at the front door with me."

"So we're making him jealous? It's a little premature for that tactic, don't you think?"

"We're not working toward jealousy. We're making certain that in his eyes you're not just your father's note-taker. You're a lady with admirers."

Admirers
. Did Robert include himself in that category? Or was this truly just a repayment for rose cuttings? Lucinda focused her gaze on Isis's ears. It didn't matter what his motives might be. They were making a trade. The end.

"What if I'd decided we should go to Hyde Park?" she asked.

"I knew you wouldn't."

Lucinda lifted an eyebrow. "That's a bit presumptive. How could you know that for certain?"

"You're kind and considerate, and you knew I'd hate going to Hyde Park in the middle of the morning." His fleeting smile appeared again. "Just on the off chance you'd opted for the Park, however, Lord Geoffrey's sister-in-law, the Marchioness of Easton, leads an entourage through there every Tuesday and Thursday. She was only a contingency plan, though, because she won't see Geoffrey and the rest of the Newcombe family until evening after next."

"You are so devious," she exclaimed. "But just for your information, I dislike Hyde Park myself."

"I'll keep that in mind."

No doubt he would. She shook her head at him, trying to pretend that his quiet tone didn't have an intimate edge that made her throat dry and her heartbeat quicken. "So is there anyone else we need to impress this morning?" she asked lightly.

"No, I don't think so. We can be as unpleasant as we like."

"That's reassuring, though I've found that it's easier to be pleasant when there's less need to be so."

As they left buildings behind and entered an area of glades and meadows, Robert slowed, his gaze again on her face. "Talking is that way for me," he said slowly. "I… got out of the habit of it, I think, and now I spend so much time thinking about it that the chance to speak sometimes passes me by."

"You talk to me."

"You're easy to talk to."

Her cheeks warmed. For goodness' sake, she hadn't been fishing for compliments. Before she could think of something to say in return, Robert kneed the gelding. He and Tolley set off across the meadow at a canter. Relieved herself that she didn't need to talk this time, she set off after him.

Lucinda was a fair rider. She'd obviously spent more time on sedate walks than gallops, but she had enough skill to know her limitations. After a few moments of watching, Robert felt reasonably sure that she wouldn't fall off her horse and break her neck.

For him and Tolley the day was a nice change as well. In daylight the sense of disconnection with the world wasn't as strong, but the fresh, warm air and sunshine were a fair compensation.

They spent two hours racing and riding, and as a bonus, not doing much talking. It was the most freeing experience of the last three years, and the smile on his face as he dug for his pocket watch felt easy and natural.

He flipped open the watch's cover, then shoved it back into his pocket. He sent Tolley in a tight circle around Lucinda and her mare, Isis. "We need to start back."

Her dark hair with its highlights of red and gold had come loose beneath her riding hat, and a long, tangled strand caressed her cheek as she grinned at him. "Time for the second part of our plan?"

He nodded, leading the way back to the road.
Don't look at her like that
, he told himself. She was a friend, a rarity for him these days. And besides, she'd made it painfully clear both that she thought him toothless, and that she'd already chosen someone else.

She didn't even try to coax him into conversation on the way back to Barrett House. If his theory was correct, though, Geoffrey Newcombe would be watching for them when they turned up the drive. So, taking another breath and wishing they could have spent the entire day out of the city, he drew closer to her.

"You were going to tell me what lesson number two entails."

"No, I wasn't," she retorted, chuckling. "You haven't proven anything to me about your supposed success with lesson number one, yet."

"But I need to prepare a strategy for the next step. Surely you understand what a complex prospect all of this is. Plotting, planning, machinations, everything."

A blush crept up her cheeks. "It's actually rather silly, now that I think about it. And this one really isn't precisely for me—it's for all ladies."

"Tell me," he coaxed, noting that they were nearly at her house.

She blew out her breath. "Fine. It just says that when a gentleman bothers to attend a dance, he should dance. Especially when there are always more ladies than men present. It's embarrassing to be the lone female not dancing while men stand about chatting."