The pulse at her throat fluttered. “I—”
“Come, Miss Harrington, we both know the public display of affection for the benefit of my family will be so chaste that they might hardly be called kisses. One private. You know, for the sake of that…spark.”
She sniffed, but her cheeks pinkened prettily. “Agreed.”
His heart tripped rather oddly, and anticipation curled in his belly. “I assure you, they will be professional kisses.”
Her eyes widened. “I’ve never had one ofthosebefore.”
Of course, but she’d had a gentleman take liberties before. The dance ended, and with a sense of regret, he led her over to a terrace window for a breath of fresh air. Aware of the many eyes that ogled them and the whispers of speculation behind fans, he did not slip her outside. “I presume you will be able to find a suitable excuse to be away from the duke’s residence.”
“Yes. I am five and twenty and wholly unmarriageable. I have some freedom, and I will explain that I am spending some time with friends in the countryside.”
“My carriage will arrive for you in three days, and then we will travel to Hertfordshire. Is that sufficient time to prepare?”
“It is best you collect me from 48 Berkeley Square, my lord.”
A peculiar request given it was not the duke’s residence. However, he dipped his head in acquiescence and bid her a good evening.
“My lord,” she said before he walked away.
“Yes.”
“I wonder, how is Oskar?”
Right at that moment, Phineas liked her a little bit more. “He is doing quite well. He is aware that you dithered on your decisions to become my bride, so he might be a bit standoffish when you next meet.”
Her eyes widened, and he noted that she fought to not laugh. That pleased him. All the loneliness he had spied in her features earlier had been erased. “Not to worry, I am certain he will come around. We’ll just be mindful of his teeth in that time.”
Phineas bowed, turned, and walked away, wondering how in God’s name was he meant to keep things professional when he felt this unwilling pulse of attraction for Miss Harrington.
CHAPTERSIX
Felicity promenaded with her mother, Mrs. Anna Harrington, along a path in Hyde Park, basking in the glorious rays of the sun. The Dowager Duchess of Hartford, whom her mother frequently accompanied on her outings as a lady’s companion, rode a gentle mare some distance ahead. Her Grace rode with Lady Theo, the new Duchess of Hartford, and they were both engaged in what seemed a lively conversation. They were stopped by many other fashionable gentlemen and ladies of theton, some who were friends and others perhaps only wanted to connect with the two influential ladies.
“Today is a rather lovely day for a stroll,” her mother said, lifting her face skyward. The plumed feather in the hat she wore tilted precariously; however, it remained firmly affixed on her elegant chignon.
“It is indeed,” Felicity said. Taking long walks was a shared joy with her mother, and she was glad they had ventured out today.
A small but well-designed curricle drew abreast of them, and the man driving it tipped his hat to her mother. Her mother’s arm tensed, and she sucked in a soft breath but allowed her mouth to form a pleasant smile and regally canted her head. The man continued on, and Felicity asked, “Who is that gentleman, mama?”
“No one of consequence,” she replied pertly.
“You are flushed, mama, and you are still looking after his equipage.”
Her mother’s gaze snapped to hers, and she grinned.
“The man was outrageous enough to ask me to dance,” her mother hissed, a telltale flush mounting on her cheeks.
“Why is it ridiculous? You are a beautiful woman.”
“It was simply badly done of him with so many debutantes in need of dance partners.”
“He wanted to dance with you. That does not make him at all ridiculous,” she said staunchly.
Her mother cast her an annoyed glare. “Viscount Richardson is a man of one and forty.”
“I do not understand what his age has to—”