Royce drummed his fingers upon the tabletop as Trey shoveled food into his mouth. “Let’s just say if I happen to meet an attractive woman during one of these outings, I might wish to see where it leads.”
The toast triangle his brother held fell from his fingers to land, butter side down, on the table. “Are you thinking along the lines of courtship?”
“Ha!” Royce waved a hand. “Perish the thought.” He laughed, for the very idea of such a thing was ludicrous. “I’m not looking to become leg-shackled. However, if a friendship were proffered, I wouldn’t say no.” His thoughts jogged to Miss Storme. In his mind’s eye he caught her blue eyes that sparkled with boredom and trouble, those pink-hued lips that curved in a grin when he’d recited the bit of erotic poetry. Then he shrugged. “But we shall see what happens.”
Trey’s eyes narrowed. “Are you meeting someone this morning?”
“I’m afraid that remains a mystery, for I cannot divine the future.” He hoped his expression didn’t give anything away. “As of yet, a lady hasn’t caught my eye enough to portend courtship.”
“Gah!” His brother shook his head and exchange a look with the butler. When he gave Royce his full attention, he gestured with his knife. “Then you’re failing miserably at interacting or even entertaining the fairer sex.”
“How do you mean? I could catch a lady if I put my mind to it.”
“Oh, indeed. You’re the heir to an earldom. This alone should make your path easier than it would with me.” He pointed the knife at the empty spot where his arm should have been. “And you have both arms, so there is no excuse for you not having a match or opportunities.”
“Perhaps this is so, but I don’t wish to think about those future duties at the moment. It quite ruins the now.” For long moments he stared at his brother, nay, his best friend. The man who knew all of his secrets, and he knew that he’d need to keep his interest in Miss Storme clandestine, at least for a little while, until he could determine what role he wished for her to play in his life. “I have my own existence, and the clinic takes up all of my time.”
“And?” Again, those damnable eyebrows rose as Trey cut into his hamsteak.
“And what?”
“You don’t want an affair, something to occupy your time when you’re not engaged at the clinic? For years now you’ve not allowed yourself a bit of fun. I worry about your mental faculties.” He pointed the knife at Royce once more. “Men have needs.”
“I’m a doctor, Brother. Spare me the lecture on what a man’s body demands.” Though it was true he hadn’t actively sought out the companionship of a woman in at least a year, it didn’t mean he didn’t miss certain aspects of such a relationship.
Trey snorted. “You’d best listen to those demands before you find yourself going insane.” He shook his head. “One week of high passion won’t harm your career, and quite frankly, a toss in the sheets is a better way of clearing one’s head than a walk.”
Perhaps a tryst was in order, but was Miss Storme the right partner?
“By the by, you and Miss Storme seemed quite cozy last night at the poetry reading after she shocked the hell out of the audience.” Curiosity and speculation warred for dominance in Trey’s expression. “Is there something afoot there?”
“Nothing more than a social connection.” At least it was the truth—for now. Royce stood, for the longer he lingered here, the more it cut into the time he’d spend in Miss Storme’s company. “Now, if you’ll excuse me? I have a walk awaiting me.”
Anticipation buzzed at the base of his spine. It would be interesting to see where this one simple walk led.
*
A quarter ofan hour later, Royce meandered along one of the riding paths in Hyde Park. He’d arrived by a hired hackney cab, for there was no need to rouse the lads in the mews merely to accomplish the short trip to the park. Besides, his father had gifted him with a carriage and two horses when he’d moved out of the Worchester townhouse to open his clinic. When at all possible, he tried to distance himself between the trappings of the earl and his everyday life.
That was an eventuality he didn’t want to dwell upon. Assuming the title once his father passed would mean too much upheaval… and the end to all of his dreams for the clinic.
“Doctor Marsden!”
He turned about at the sound of the hale. Miss Storme came toward him on the path from the opposite direction, looking for all the world like spring personified in a jonquil dress and matching spencer. Though she wore a simple bonnet decorated with white and yellow flowers and yellow satin ribbons, it was perched upon her upswept hair in such a way that it could tumble off at any time.
“Good morning, Miss Storme.” He touched the brim of his beaver felt top hat and then switched his attention to the energetic Corgi straining at the leather lead. “And who is this?”
“His name is Ivan. He’s nearly a year old now.” She glanced from the dog to Royce’s face. “While I do like dogs, I got him mostly to irritate William.” When she grinned, his pulse accelerated. “I nearly gave him the name Wills.”
“You do like to court trouble.” Royce kneeled in front of the dog and held out a gloved hand. “Good morning, Ivan. It’s been a while since I kept company with a canine.” After the dog sniffed his fingers, he gave a soft woof of greeting. “I hope you give your mistress much mischief.” He scratched the dog’s ears and patted his neck before standing. “If you’d like, I can hold the leash. Ivan seems quite enthusiastic this morning.”
“Oh, he’s like that all the time.” She passed the loop of leather to him and when their fingers brushed, heat ricocheted up his arm to his elbow. “I’m at a loss as to how to keep him engaged and make him tired enough that he’ll be docile.”
He snorted. “I don’t believe it’s possible. This breed is rambunctious and demands everyone’s attention.” Not unlike the dog’s mistress. How interesting. “Do you take him walking here every day, Miss Storme?” He offered her his arm, and when she laid her gloved fingers upon his sleeve, a shiver of awareness went down his spine.
A tiny inhalation, barely audible, betrayed that she might have felt the same connection. “I try, but most of the time, he tears about the house like a vengeful spirit until I give him a bone or two from the kitchens.” She walked beside him, matching his pace. There were a few men who rode through the park. Each time he led Miss Storme to the side of the path, putting his body between her and the oncoming horses in the event the equines spooked. “I dislike this formality between us, so for the duration, please refer to me as Isobel.”
“Such a request is quite bold so early in our association, don’t you think, Isobel?” Ah, but her name rolled off his tongue like the grandest of all words.