“Are you a philosopher or a doctor?”
“Which are you in need of?”
“Neither.” I sulked.
He laughed at me and it sounded…nice. His whole face lit up and it made him look quite handsome.
“Then I shall simply be a person, and say, it is all right, Lady Verity. There are a great deal of lords and ladies who never venture into society, nor request that society come to them. They live their days quietly on their estates with no care for anything else.”
“How do I do that?”
“You marry a lord with a fine estate, I believe.”
I groaned, my shoulders drooping in a rather unladylike manner. “Why do people say that as if it were easy? Marriage is…forever. And the person one marries has the power to turn the greatest estate into the greatest of miseries. Believe me, I know.”
“Have you been married before?”
I gasped, eyes wide. “Of course not!”
He laughed at me again. “Then how can you speak with such certainty?”
“I—I…Are you not against the institution as well? Also, is it not odd for you to be so after confessing your feelings for me?”
“No, I think not, as I do not have the mind to marry,” he said, glancing up at the colorful bird that came to him, perching upon his hand.
“Are you admitting to being a rogue?”
“No, I admit I am a bastard,” he replied as he stroked the bird gently. “Nothing can ever come of my feelings, I am aware. So I have no thoughts beyond their existence.”
I frowned, not liking that at all. “If that were true you would not have told me.”
“It was you who pressed for an answer at dinner.”
“You cannot lie?”
“You seem keenly able to discern the truth from me. Besides I was far too unsettled to think of a believable lie.”
I laughed at the childish pout and frustrated brow on his face. “Are you not meant to be a genius, Dr. Darrington? I heard you and the marquess speak endlessly on ancient works.”
“They are not so ancient, and while I am not a fool I am no genius, especially not when I am faced with…”
“Young ladies seeking to run away from society?” I grinned.
“You. Exactly.” He smiled back.
“Nevertheless, you ought to do better.”
“How so?”
“In your confessions, it is hardly romantic to say such a thing over a ragout of beef.”
“Understood. I shall say it over the roasted beef next time.”
I giggled so hard I snorted, and quickly covered my mouth. “Pardon me!”
“Whatever for? You are magnificent,” he said and I froze. The look on his face, the gentleness of his smile, I had never seen it directed toward me before.
The longer I stared the more I heard my heart thumping away in my chest. I knew not what to say. Suddenly another bird, similar in size to the one on his hand but colored all blue, flew right by my face. I jumped back, startled as I watched the two birds fly around each other.
“Are they fighting?” I asked, staring as they moved up to the tree. I watched as they pushed against each other over and over.
“No,” he replied, watching them as well. “They are hugging each other.”
“Birds do that?”
“These ones do, especially when they are in love.”
“What?” I glanced back at the pair. They did seem unable to separate, just like…just like lovers. “They are in love?”
“This species of parrot is known for their devotion. So much so they are called lovebirds,” he explained with a soft amusement on his face. “They are monogamous birds, and once they court each other they remain together their whole lives. If one of them dies or gets separated from the other, they grow very distressed and can even die of misery.”
“Truly?” I gasped, stunned as I looked. “They grieve more even than people.”
“Some people, for sure,” he responded.
“Where have they come from?”
“They are native to the lands south of the Sahara Desert and to Madagascar.”
I frowned as I sat back down. “So these are the lucky ones.”
“What do you mean?” He turned to face me, confused.
“Either they were already mated or began their courtship here,” I explained. “Imagine the birds that were separated from their mates or the ones that shall now never find them. Those ones will grieve as you explained, will they not?”
He stared at me and I sat rather uncomfortably under the intensity of his eyes. “You are correct. These are the lucky ones.”
I nodded. “Well, at least there is some bright spot in this whole exhibit.”
“You are quite compassionate, Lady Verity,” he said to me suddenly.
“Me? How so?” I asked.
“You came to London for the sake of your brother, attempting to help him earn the hand of his now wife.”
“How did you know?”
He smiled. “How was one not to know when all the young ladies of the ton complained that whenever they sought to engage your brother in a dance, you would interrupt either by engaging their company or demanding your brother dance with you…despite etiquette.”
I opened my mouth to speak then closed it. I was guilty of what he said. I had done my best to keep the other ladies and mamas away from my brother as a way to ensure no misunderstandings or obstacles arose. Which often meant dancing with Evander, which was not altogether proper, but who would say anything to us on the matter?
“Yes, I did do that, and the young ladies of the ton would hardly say that was an act of compassion,” I finally managed to say.
“True, but your brother would say otherwise.”
“He is my brother, so it is not so odd to be kind to him.”
“And to Lady Clementina?” he mused. “Did you not seek to help her in her time of distress?”
“The greater credit lies with Hathor, for she was the one who not only noticed but threw herself upon the floor.” I chuckled thinking about how dramatic she was.
He glanced at me. “Why do you seek to avoid praise, my lady?”
“I merely believe myself undeserving of it.”
“What do you believe yourself deserving of?” he asked, then smiled, adding, “Other than a grand confession of love.”