Olivia turned abruptly. “I’ll get my shawl, sir. It’s getting late, and I can’t afford to dawdle. I have a great deal of reading to do when I return in order to prepare my next essay.”
He watched her hurry from the room, a little puzzled by her reaction. It seemed uncharacteristic for her to flee the field of battle without firing a verbal shot in reply.
But then, I don’t really know her at all, he reminded himself.
The earl’s hands were not only strong, noted Olivia, as he guided his phaeton through the Stanhope gate leading into Hyde Park. They were steady and capable, controlling the spirited team of matched grays with a quiet, confident ease.
Strange, she had never paid any attention to a man’s hands before, but Olivia found herself mesmerized by their lithe grace. His snug-fitting York tan gloves accentuated his long tapered fingers—there was a graceful elegance to their movement, and yet it was not at all effeminate.
“Am I driving too fast for your taste?” he inquired politely, catching her eye. “You seem a trifle apprehensive.”
“No, not at all.” Olivia quickly forced her gaze to lock on some distant point straight ahead. “What do you wish to talk about, sir?”
“Ah, getting right down to business,” he remarked.
“That is the whole point of this exercise, isn’t it?” she replied.
“Most ladies would say that the point would also be to enjoy the experience.”
“Yes, well, I rarely have the same views on things as most ladies.”
“So I am learning.”
Olivia found herself feeling unsettled by his relaxed manner. The solemn-faced, steel-spined earl was far easier to deal with—at least she knew what to expect.
“No doubt to your dismay,” she muttered.
And yet, there was something liberating about this newfound relationship. After all, he knew her more intimately than any man, so she was free to be—
No, no, she chided herself. Don’t think about being friends. It was…
Terribly confusing.
A subtle pressure on the reins slowed the vehicle to a leisurely trot. The thudding of the hooves and jangling of the harness were the only sounds as he maneuvered the phaeton through a narrow carriageway and turned onto Rotten Row. An ancient “King’s Road”—or Rue de Roi—it was originally built to connect St. James’s Palace with Kensington Palace, but now served the crème de la crème of society as the fashionable place to promenade each day in the late afternoon.
“I can’t help but wonder—is there a reason you go out of the way to make yourself appear odd, Miss Sloane?” asked John after guiding his horses around an elderly dowager’s lumbering landau.
“I am odd,” said Olivia. And ungainly, she added to herself. “I don’t wish to mislead you as to who or what I am, sir.” Suddenly recalling her activities as Lady Loose Screw, she hastily added, “That is to say, now that you have discovered my secrets…”
Well, almost all of my secrets.
“…I would prefer that we have plain speaking between us.”
“I see.” His voice, like his hands, was calm and steady. It gave nothing away.
Olivia told herself that was enough of an explanation. And yet, for some odd reason she felt compelled to add, “As for what most of Society thinks of me, I suppose that like a hedgehog, I use a prickly exterior to deflect closer scrutiny. As I said before, if it ever got out that The Beacon is a lady, my career as a newspaper columnist would be over.”
The wheels jostled over a deep rut.
“And I care very passionately about my writing, sir. I should hate to give it up.”
John shifted his long, muscled legs, and suddenly she felt very small and vulnerable on the narrow seat. His silence seemed to strip away the layers of her usual defenses, leaving her uncomfortable. Exposed.
This was a bad idea. For any number of reasons…
“Miss Sloane,” murmured John as the phaeton pulled ahead into a less crowded stretch of the carriageway. “Rest assured that your secrets are safe with me.” He turned his head and their eyes met. “I have nothing but the utmost respect for your ideas and your writings.”
Ye gods, the man has beautiful eyes. She had always thought of brown as a rather dull color, but in the slanting sunlight the hue was alive with intriguing sparks of gold and amber.