“He wasn’t horrid to me.” She shrugged. Hate seemed too powerful to describe how she’d felt about the man who’d sired her. “He was nothing. And I was nothing to him. Nothing until, that was, he had use of me.”
Mr. Spencer nodded beside her, as though he already knew that her father had married her off in order to pay a debt. Thank god he had owed the debt to an honorable man.
“If love exists, I imagine I loved Baldwin,” she contemplated out loud. “And I do miss him dreadfully. And here I am being maudlin again. I’m not sure what it is about you, Mr. Spencer, but you have a dreadful knack for turning me into a self-pitying chatterbox.”
“Peter.” He turned his head to meet her gaze. Sitting this close, she recognized immediately that his pupils had dilated. “Call me Peter.”
She thought he was going to kiss her but instead, he turned his face back to the road.
“And I like listening to you. You have a beautiful voice.”
She laughed. It was a silly thing to say.
Again, he glanced sideways, this time only for a moment. “You think I’m joking?” He shook his head. “Your voice is melodic but not too high-pitched. Smooth and rich, with a hint of breathiness, a sound that enfolds me like sunshine on a winter’s day.”
“I thought you were a musician, not a poet.” But his words had a similar warmth enfolding her. “Or perhaps you are describing your favorite wine.”
He moved the leather straps into his right hand, and then dropped his left atop both of hers. “Why did you walk with me last night?”
His questions weren’t easy ones. She clamped her mouth together.
“As I’ve only a few days to become better acquainted with you, I have no wish to waste them discussing the weather.” The man’s persistence wasn’t easily thwarted.
“Why do you want to become acquainted with me at all?”
He sat silent, seemingly contemplating her question. It was only fair that she could ask personal questions as well.
“I think I’d like to be your friend.”
Her first instinct was to laugh at that. Because most friends didn’t do the things they’d done with one another. Nor did they do the things she imagined they would do later this evening. But before her cynical self could mock his answer, her aching heart stopped her.
Because she hadn’t any friends. She had acquaintances, social equals, and servants, but no one she truly considered a friend.
Her father hadn’t allowed her much freedom as a young girl. If he had, she wondered if she would have been nearly as amenable to his wishes. She hadn’t been allowed to mingle with other ladies until after she’d become betrothed, and by then most had all but dismissed her. One in particular, had outright accused her of seducing Baldwin to gain position and wealth.
She hadn’t denied it because she hadn’t understood what they’d meant.
Baldwin had been her first true friend, her only friend, her last friend. Perhaps that was why she was the way she was. Disconnected, separated.
“When my father brought me to London for my debut, my friendships were limited to meaningless conversations with other ladies in between dances. A few of the young women were friendly, but I wasn’t one of them.” She realized she was talking about herself again, but he seemed not to mind. “After I married, Baldwin allowed me all the freedom I’d ever wanted, but by then.” She shrugged, “I kept myself busy at home. I’ve accepted a few invitations since coming out of mourning but...” People treated her much the same as they had before.
But now it was because of her behavior. Because gentlemen gossiped worse than ladies and because she’d not cared to pretend to be something other than what she was.
“Ladies pretend to like me. I am a Countess, after all. But their comments are often just thinly veiled insults. Always with a smile, of course, and always spoken in the most condescending tone of voice. There. Now you’ve done it. You’ve got me complaining.”
He didn’t respond, and so she stared off into the distance.
And then she lifted her chin. “My affairs with gentlemen aren’t nearly as complicated, nor are they as hypocritical. They are… a straightforward transaction. An equal exchange involving mutual benefits.” She needed him to know that although he was acting as though they were courting, she required nothing more.
“So, you don’t want my friendship.”
“I didn’t say that.” But had she?
“You said your affairs with gentlemen were a transaction. What if I want more than that?”
She inhaled sharply. “You don’t.” And yet she was squeezing his hand with both of hers. “You are going to Brighton and will focus all of your passion on your music. You are destined for greatness and then you will settle down with someone of whom your family approves.”
“Would you be amenable if I was to be so presumptuous as to tell you I knew what you wanted? Would you like it if I dictated your future to you?”
“I would not like it.” But she was right, although she wouldn’t argue with him.
“So, you will be my friend?” He was smiling again. “And my lover.”
“Tonight. As for more than that—” She lifted one shoulder and then dropped it.
“Let’s take this one step at a time, shall we?” And then the horses emerged from the trees into a clearing near the water. “Would you care to walk a little before we drive to Mivart’s?”
His mention of the hotel caused her heart to skip a beat, which made no sense at all. She was excited to be with him but her normal emptiness didn’t seem to be fueling her actions as much as usual.
“I’d like that.” She sat primly, feeling like a fraud when he hopped down and walked around to assist her to the ground.
“I’ve never been to this part of the park,” she admitted as he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.
“Don’t tell anyone, but it’s where all the duels are held,” he whispered dramatically and then told her about a few of the illegal face-offs he’d witnessed, one where he had acted as second.
“But you have never dueled?’ she guessed.
He shook his head. “My brother does enough of that for both of us. And as I’ve never felt there was a need, as well as for my mother’s sake, I have not.”
“I envy your relationship with your family.” Before he could offer a sympathetic comment, she hurried on to ask, “Is there anything you would enter a duel for? Anything you’d risk your life for?”
He nodded. “To protect the people I love.” They paused their walking, and he stared out at the water. “Or to avenge them.”
Peter Spencer was a sensitive soul and not inclined to violence, but the thread of determination in his voice sent a chill down Miranda’s spine.
“For Rosa?” she wondered.
“I wouldn’t kill for her.” He slid his eyes in her direction and grinned. “But I would maim.”
They both turned and resumed walking along the shoreline, not going far as to keep the horses and his shiny curricle in sight.
“I have only heard you play as part of a group but I think, before you leave, that I must hear you play a solo piece. How am I to know that you are not pretending to play?” It was her turn to tease him.