“I got myself into it,” he said.
“Your eye is very bad,” she said, leaning forward a little to peer at it.
“It looks worse than it is,” he said. “Nichols knows how to treat these things.” If he hadn’t known, that eye would be swollen shut at present. “It’ll turn a few ugly colors over the next few days, and then it’ll fade. My mouth, as you have no doubt observed with regret, is not so much damaged as you thought.”
“You are not as pretty as you were at the ball,” she said. “Mama had a lively description of the fight and your injuries from somebody, and she’s furious. She says I ought to keep away from you. She says you have enough difficulties without my getting you into trouble.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “Who will I talk to if you keep away? Come along. It’s too noisy here.”
Though the park itself was deserted—by the haut ton, at any rate—Hyde Park Corner bustled. Peddlers, milkmaids, soldiers, and loiterers of all sorts crowded the pavement. On the Knightsbridge Road, the Royal Mail and the stagecoaches vied for space with lowly farm wagons, elegant private carriages, riders, and pedestrians. Stray children, cats, and dogs darted among the vehicles and horses.
It was here, at Hyde Park Corner, that their first adventure together had begun. The memory came back vividly: Olivia, standing with a surly ox of a boy . . . Lisle having to beat the boy out of the way . . . then climbing onto a farm wagon after her. . .
Every time he awaited her, he expected the skinny girl he used to know, with her striking hair and eyes. Every time, seeing her as she was now threw him off balance. He still wasn’t used to the beauty she’d become. It almost hurt to look at her face, and the soft curves of her body—which the snug tailoring of her riding dress emphasized—made a muddle of feelings inside.
Wrong feelings. They were the kind any attractive woman could inspire in a man. Any number of loose women could tend to them.
What he needed at this moment was a friend and ally.
Yet even when they entered the park, he found he wasn’t quite ready to talk. He needed to clear the jumbled feelings from his head or his heart—he wasn’t sure where they were, exactly.
“Race?” he said.
Her eyes lit.
Their horses were fresh, happy to gallop westward along the deserted Rotten Row. Her mare was as powerful as his, and she rode with the same skill and daring she applied to everything in her life. He won, but not by much, and at the end, they were laughing—at themselves, and at the sheer pleasure of a gallop on a fine autumn morning.
They eased to a trot, then headed further into the park.
When they reached a stand of trees, well out of sight of the more traveled pathways, they slowed their mounts to a walk.
Then he told her what had happened.
“They’ve cut you off?” she said incredulously. “But they can’t! You’ll go mad here. You must return to Egypt.”
“I told you they were determined to keep me home,” he said. “I didn’t realize how determined. I thought they might settle down after a while, or forget, as they usually do. But they’re even more adamant today than they were yesterday about that dratted castle. Father will only extend funds for me to undertake their restoration fantasy.”
“I can imagine what he’s thinking,” she said. “He thinks you’ll become involved in the project, and transfer your passion to it.”
His heart raced guiltily. “My passion?” he said.
“Your parents are jealous of Egypt,” she said. “They don’t understand the difference between an old castle and ancient monuments. It’s all ‘old’ to them.”
He wouldn’t have called Egypt a passion, but Olivia would, and perhaps, after all, what he felt for the place and his work there was a sort of passion.
She understood so well, sometimes better than he did. But then, she was a DeLucey, and they’d survived for so many generations because they were adept at reading people and manipulating them.
“I suppose I should be grateful they didn’t think of using the purse strings before,” he said.
“If they had, Lord Rathbourne would have paid your way,” she said.
“Your stepfather’s done more than enough for me,” Lisle said. “He has you and your sisters and brothers to think of now.”
“I would give you my money,” she said. “You know I would.”
“That would be monstrous improper,” he said. “I’m glad it’s not possible.” Her funds, he knew, had been very carefully tied up, to protect her not only from fortune hunters but from herself. She was a strange mixture of contradictions: her mind calculating and her heart generous. Her leaping to the ragamuffin’s defense yesterday was typical.
She drew nearer and put out her gloved hand to touch his. “I won’t let you be trapped here,” she said. “We’ll think of something.”
There it was, the gleam in her great blue eyes.
“No, we won’t,” he said firmly.
She was his friend and ally and confidante, but her impulsiveness, ethical blind spots, and fervent nature sometimes made his hair stand on end—he, who dealt daily with snakes, scorpions, crocodiles, thieves, cutthroats, and—worst of all—officials.
To say her judgment was dubious at best was putting it very mildly, indeed.
Nine years ago she’d lured him into a journey to Bristol on a hunt for a pirate’s treasure, of all things. That was one of her Ideas, with a capital I. It could have ended very badly for him—in a sadistic Scottish school, for instance—had Lord Rathbourne not intervened.
Lisle knew very well that his journeying to Egypt instead was entirely thanks to Rathbourne. Lisle knew, too, that one couldn’t rely on miracles. Furthermore, he was a man now, not a boy. He couldn’t expect and didn’t want friends and relatives to get him out of every difficulty.
“No, Lisle, you must listen,” she said eagerly. “I have the most wonderful Idea.”
Olivia with an Idea.
A prospect to strike terror into the heart of any man with a modicum of intelligence and any sense of self-preservation.
“No Ideas,” he said. “Not on any account.”
“Let’s go to Scotland,” she said. “Together.”
Her heart pounded so hard it must be audible at Kensington Palace. She’d been thinking about the castle in Scotland since Saturday.
“Have you lost your mind?” he said.
“I knew you’d say that,” she said.
“I’m not going to Scotland.”
“But we’ll go together,” she said. “It’ll be fun. An adventure.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “We’re not children anymore. Even you can’t get away with going to Scotland with a man. Your parents will never approve.”
“They don’t have to know.”
His grey eyes widened. “Olivia.”
“Tomorrow morning they’re leaving for Derbyshire,” she said. “I’m staying in London with Great-Grandmama.”
He looked away. “This grows worse by the minute.”
“I’ve thought it through,” she said.
“Since when?” he said, his too-keen gaze coming back to her. “I told you only a moment ago what’s happened.”
“I’ve been thinking about the castle,” she said. That was absolutely true. It was better to stick as close to the truth as possible with Lisle. He was not only viciously logical and straightforward to a fault, but she thought he could read her mind a little. “I was trying to devise a plan to save you from it.”
“You are not rescuing me,” he said. “You are not my knight in shining armor or whatever you think you are. I’m nearly four and twenty years old, and perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Please don’t turn all proud male on me,” she said. “If you would only l
isten, you’ll understand how practical my Idea is.”
“Nine years ago you had the practical Idea of saving your mother from penury by running away to Bristol to dig up a pirate’s treasure in the Earl of Mandeville’s garden!”
“Yes, and it was fun, wasn’t it?” she said. “It was an adventure. You have adventures all the time. I—” She waved one gloved hand in the air. “I break engagements and hit men with my umbrella.”
He shot her a glance she couldn’t read. Then he nudged his horse into motion.
He needed distance.
He didn’t want to be thinking about this, about the girl she used to be, who wanted to be a knight and undertake Noble Quests.
She followed him. “Don’t close your mind,” she said. “You’re a scholar, and a scholar keeps an open mind.”
“Not to insanity,” he said. “You can’t simply jaunt off to Scotland because you’re bored with breaking engagements and hitting men with your umbrella. I’m sorry you have to abide by silly rules for women, but I can’t change them. And even I know you can’t pop into a carriage and travel four hundred miles on your own without stirring up a terrific scandal.”
“I always stir up scandal,” she said. “I’m known for it. Whatever I do or say at this dinner or that party makes the rounds of the ton the following morning. Olivia Carsington, Last Night’s Scandal, that’s me. I should have it engraved on my visiting cards.”
He looked about him. The park was quiet this morning, activity in the surrounding streets sounding so faintly that one heard clearly the leaves rustling in the trees, the clip-clop of their horses’ hooves, and the call of a pair of birds, one to the other.
He could hear his heart pounding, too. He was tempted, horribly tempted.