He smiled and opened his arms as if to call her into an embrace. “In flesh and blood.” His warm smile faded then. “And you are late,” he repeated.
“This cannot be true,” Grace defended. “May I see your watch?”
He removed a gold watch from his waistcoat and proffered it. Their fingers brushed when she took it, and a slow simmering heat was communicated between them. His eyes darkened very slightly, telling her he felt the same desire as she did.
Breathing as calmly as she could, she opened the watch and looked at the time, then up at him. “I am only four minutes late. I will have you know that I was at the park before three.”
He raised one rich, dark brow. “Then why did I not see you at that time?”
“Is time very important to you?” she asked before she suddenly remembered that she was supposed to deter him and not attract him. But he was the man she wanted. Grace was confused, utterly torn between her desire for him, and consideration for her friend.
“Do you always answer a question with another one?” He was looking down at her with amusement.
“Why do you always evade my questions?” she returned, her eyes moving down his body. She believed he was a marquess but she wanted to know why he did not tell her that the night they met.
“Because you do not ask them properly.” He grinned.
“Oh, my questions are too direct for you,” she guessed, and he nodded. “Well, I am oblivious to the beauty of subtlety.”
Anglesey laughed. “I can see that.”
“How is your shoulder?” When he raised a brow again, she added, “Is that also too direct for you?”
“Indeed, it is, and my shoulder is very well. Thank you for asking.” He held his hand out for his watch, and when she placed it on his palm, he caught her fingers, his eyes casting a seductive gaze down her body. He raised her hand to his lips. “I am Devlin Redmond, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Mills.” The warm touch of his lips penetrated her satin gloves and settled sweetly on her skin.
“Likewise, My Lord,” she breathed. He offered her his arm, and they began to walk along the canal when she took it. A moment later, she began to vigorously clear her throat. She noticed Devlin turn to look at her but she looked ahead, endeavoring to maintain a blank expression.
“Is there something in your throat?” he asked, stopping and frowning.
“Oh, no.” She smiled up at him, then cleared her throat loudly again. “My throat is perfectly fine.”
Devlin blinked before slightly shaking his head and resuming their walk. Grace wondered what he thought and whether he found her behavior repugnant.
“Gosh, ducks!” she yelled, slipping her arm from his to run closer to the bank of the canal. She was certain this behavior would offend him. She squatted and held her hand to the row of ducks that were swimming by.
“Have you never seen ducks before?” His question surprised her, but more so was him coming to stand beside her.
She glanced up at him and widened her eyes. “These are English ducks.”
Devlin chuckled. “What makes English ducks different from American ducks?”
“They are noble, and wealthier, too, in duck societies,” she replied.
“That is an interesting way of regarding ducks. I have never thought of that before.”
No, you fop! You are not supposed to find such a stupid statement interesting! she almost yelled.
“Do you have any bread?” she asked.
“I beg your pardon?” Now he looked at her as though she was indeed stupid. Excellent!
“Bread for the ducks. Do you have some?”
“Why would I walk about with bread?”
“Oh, Englishmen do not do that?” She raised a brow.
“No, they do not,” he replied tersely.