She whirled around, clutching the leather-bound book and parasol to her chest, and hurried down the street. He watched her for several seconds before glancing up at the townhouse where he had the plan to call on one Mrs. Lucy Lovellette. That assignation was forgotten, the appeal of taking the widow to the opera and possibly to his bed, vanishing like a puff of smoke under the gust of a harsh wind. Lucien went after Miss Mimi, and at the sound of his footsteps, she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes widening and reminding him of a heroine in a gothic mystery knowing that the big bad wolf was coming after her. Interestingly, she did not run but slowed her steps until he walked beside her.
“I gather you feared some sort of kidnapping should you enter my carriage alone, Miss Mimi,” he said, almost choking on the name. “I assure you—”
“Or something far more dastardly,” she said tartly.
Well…“Such as?”
She cast him a sidelong glance. “Whatever your imagination should conjure as more villainous than a kidnapping. Let that be your answer, my good sir.”
He was amused by her glib wit. “I am even more regretful that you did not accompany me in my carriage.”
“You are a shameless flirt, sir!”
“I have never been accused of such,” he drawled, liking that she smiled so readily. Lucien also noted her parasol gripped rather firmly in her right hand. “Are you expecting another attacker?”
That smile turned into a full-blown grin. “In the books I read, gentlemen who follow young ladies can be villainous. I am still undecided about you, and to help you decide the path you might want to remain on, I am very proficient at wielding parasols.”
He laughed; truly, he could not help himself. Suddenly he hoped she was not as genteel as he had first believed. For then, perhaps he could make a proper introduction to her family and…he shook his head sharply. What the hell was he thinking? Frowning, he glanced down at her and caught her watching him. Her cheeks flushing, she hurriedly looked forward and hastened her steps a bit.
“I assure you I am not a villain,” he murmured. “I only hope to see you safely home.”
She was silent for a bit, then she softly replied, “Thank you, Mr. Lucien.”
“You are welcome, Miss Mimi.”
Something about the air around them changed. They walked for a few minutes in a silence that was filled with sidelong glances at each other. The fraught tension which had formed earlier slowly dissipated, but his curiosity had only grown in leaps and bounds. Who was she really?
“Are you an avid reader?”
She jolted as if she had forgotten his presence. Lucien was mildly affronted.
“When it suits me,” she said with a smile. “Today was a perfect day to walk to the park and read for a bit.”
“Most read in the comfort of their homes.”
She wrinkled her nose. “My home can be terribly chaotic. Charming chaos, but chaos, nonetheless. Sometimes I escape by taking long walks.”
“And by going to the park to read.”
She peered up at him from beneath her bonnet. “Yes.”
He idly wondered if he should share his love of reading as well, especially with technical books. Lucien quickly dismissed it from his thoughts, a pulse of annoyance going through him, for it was as if he had forgotten how to talk to a lady. While attractive ladies at their gambling den were more than willing to be tumbled for a night of mutual pleasure, the only lady he spent any time conversing in depth with was his sister.
He cleared his throat. “I would like to offer you my cane.”
She came to a complete stop, pressing a gloved hand over her mouth. With an inner jolt, he realized she was suppressing laughter.
He arched a brow. “You find my offer amusing?”
“I find my thoughts amusing. They were twirling with things to say to you and wondering what you might say to me. I assure you they had not wandered along the path of you…” she looked down at his hand. “You offering me your cane with a rapier.”
God, she was such a surprise. Her unabashed honesty marked her apart from other girls. As did the sweetness of her smile and the inquisitiveness directness of her stare.
“I merely thought it could offer you a measure of protection should you forget your servants again.”
“And if footpads accost me again.” Her voice betrayed a hint of nerves.
“Hmm,” he said, “should that happen flay away.”