“True.” Mr. Woodsworth turned his head to glance back at the picnic, his frown lines as deep as she had ever seen them. “I must admit it is nice to be in the company of a lady that isn’t keeping tabs on Lord Bryant.” Mr. Woodsworth seemed to dislike Lord Bryant as much as Miss Morgan liked him. Which—based on the way Miss Morgan leaned into Lord Bryant—was a lot.
And Mr. Woodsworth had called Patience a lady.
Patience smiled and pretended to inspect the picnic party as well. “He is rather good looking, isn’t he?”
“Stop it,” Mr. Woodsworth said, but his frown lines were no longer so deep.
Instead Patience gave an exaggerated sigh. “His shoulders are so broad though. How, exactly, am I supposed to ignore that?”
“I have broad shoulders, but no ladies seem to notice them.”
Mr. Woodsworth had straightened to his full height. And he was right; his shoulders were broad. He was thicker than most gentlemen, no doubt resembling his father, who had started his army career as a grenadier. The main requirement for that job was size.
“I daresay your shoulders are even more broad.”
“And yet you have never mentioned them.”
Patience raised her eyebrows. This was a side of Mr. Woodsworth she hadn’t seen. He could be playful, then. She never would have guessed. “I didn’t think it was proper of a maid to mention them.”
He leaned forward until his face was only inches away from hers. The trace of a smile was on his lips. He raised one finger as if to touch the tip of her nose but stopped himself just before he did. He cocked his head to one side and scrunched his face together. “I don’t think of you as a proper maid.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. She tried to catch it in her throat but to no avail. He didn’t know how correct he was.
At the sound of her laughter, Mr. Woodsworth’s eyes found her mouth, lingering there longer than they should have. He was leaning down and standing so close that the petticoat under her dress was pushing back behind her slightly. His eyes roamed her face for a moment and then slid down her throat. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but her voice was caught by his nearness. When his eyes found their way back to hers, they were almost violet in color. She snapped her mouth closed but couldn’t make herself step away from him.
He didn’t have that problem. “Sorry.” He shook his head and retreated one step back, his face neutral.
Whatever it was that had made him inspect her face so thoroughly was gone. Patience’s breathing returned to normal, normal enough at least. He was most likely just assessing that beauty spot. Her hand rose to touch it. It wasn’t out of place. At least no more out of place than usual. Why had she allowed Mrs. Jorgensen to add that feature? She had said something about making one strong feature that people would remember more than anything else, so that when they recalled Patience’s face, that beauty mark, rather than her natural features, would be the predominant image to come to mind.
Patience cleared her throat. “Perhaps it is the way Lord Bryant carries himself. Fiancées everywhere must be trying to find excuses to be alone with him.”
Any traces of playful Mr. Woodsworth disappeared. He looked back at Miss Morgan, who was once again leaning forward, handing Lord Bryant a serviette. “That would be more entertaining if it weren’t perhaps true.”
She shouldn’t have said that. Anything would have been a better choice to take attention off of her beauty spot. She wanted the happy Mr. Woodsworth back. “I don’t presume to know Lord Bryant or you very well, but Miss Morgan would be a fool to choose him over you. Not only is he not interested in her, but he probably has no idea how to light a fire.”
Mr. Woodsworth chuckled. He took one last glance at the picnic party and then turned and held his arm out to her. She took it, enjoying the warmth of his large frame.
“Lord Bryant doesn’t do anything small,” Mr. Woodsworth said. “If he ever did start a fire, it would probably burn down half of London.”
Patience nearly missed her step. “Mr. Woodsworth, I believe you just made a joke.”
“Yes, well, Lord Bryant makes it easy. He is more caricature than person.” Mr. Woodsworth’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and the muscles in his arm loosened. “I admit you also make it easy. Perhaps I should surround myself with maids more often. I feel no need to impress you.”
“And yet you just did.”
“With that little joke?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there is one more reason I should spend time with you. You are easily impressed.”
They had gone far enough that they needed to turn around to stay within sight of their party. Mr. Woodsworth turned around, and they walked back in silence. The trees were tall in this part of the park, and several birds chirped as they flew across their path. She enjoyed the moment of calm before she would be back to hiding her face behind a serviette for the rest of the afternoon.
Two carriages were making their way down the path in front of them. Mr. Woodsworth pulled her arm closer to his chest, making it so that they were crushed together once again. He leaned his head down until his lips were close to her ear. “We are supposed to be causing talk that would reach back to the Morgans. I think it is best if we walk a bit closer to each other.”
The sound of birds seemed less cheerful, and the sunlight not quite as bright. Of course Mr. Woodsworth’s actions earlier had nothing to do with her beauty spot or even herself as a person. This was an act. She was his maid. And above all, he was Mr. Woodsworth, executing a plan to his utmost ability.
She pressed closer to him, but he no longer felt as warm. She had no desire to face Lord Bryant back at the picnic, yet she no longer wanted to remain on this walk either. She had forgotten for a moment that she was playing a part. She should have remembered once Mr. Woodsworth had called her a lady. She lowered her head as they neared their group.
Lord Bryant was laughing with Miss Paynter while Miss Morgan sat with her arms folded and a frown upon her face. When Patience and Mr. Woodsworth were only a few feet away, Miss Morgan stood. “Finally, you are back. I’ve decided I would like to take a turn around the park as well if you don’t mind, Mr. Woodsworth.”
Mr. Woodsworth dropped Patience’s arm. “I would be honored.” His serious demeanor was back. Patience didn’t know how long it would be until she saw him smile again, but she hoped it wouldn’t be an excessive amount of time. She assumed that before this bargain was made, Mr. Woodsworth and Miss Morgan must have been happy in each other’s company. But from what she had seen today, Mr. Woodsworth didn’t come alive when he was around her. Not like he did when he was pretending to be interested in Patience. Not all couples were the same though. Perhaps Mr. Woodsworth was happier not being happy.