“Ah, she is that. But I can’t help but do so, Papa—no one else will bother with her,” Kate said and adjusted her bonnet. “Well then! Shall we call on Mr. Heather?”
With another shake of his head, her father grabbed the cart handle. He looked up, over Kate’s shoulder, and nodded to something behind her as she took another basket from the cart. “Looks as if you’ll have an escort again this week.”
Kate turned around—and almost collided with Lord Montgomery. Again. Anoth
er happy coincidence. In fact, she quickly calculated it was the eighth happy coincidence in as many weeks.
“Beg your pardon, Mrs. Becket. I must have startled you,” he said with a mischievous smile.
“Not at all, my lord!” A ridiculously large, unguarded grin split her face.
He glanced over her shoulder at her father and touched the brim of his hat. “Good day, Mr. Crowley. Fine day for a walkabout, eh?”
“Aye, it is, as fine a day as the past Wednesday’s walkabout, and the one before it,” Papa snorted. “You go on ahead, Kate,” he said, ducking beneath the wide brim of his hat as he busied himself with the rearranging of the baskets in his little cart. “I’ve a bit of tidying up to do here, and you’d not want to keep Mr. Heather waiting for his victuals.”
“Thank you, Papa.” She stole a glimpse of Montgomery. “Mr. Heather is undoubtedly pacing the floor, wondering what could be keeping us. He’s rather the nervous sort.”
“You are so good to engage in such charitable works, Mrs. Becket, and how diligent you are about it!” Montgomery exclaimed. “There are others who are not as generous with either their time or their spirit, myself chief among them.”
“Indeed? I naturally assumed you were calling on them yourself, sir. Whatever else might bring you to this street each Wednesday?” she asked with a sly smile.
He chuckled boyishly, took the basket from her hand, and walked beside her as she started down the street. “You give me too much credit. My motives are far more nefarious than charitable endeavors, I freely admit.”
“Nefarious?” She laughed. “Lord Montgomery, how you tease me! I’d wager you’ve not a wicked bone in your body!”
He gave her a look that suggested she knew better than that, leaned slightly toward her, and said low, “You’d be quite wrong, madam, were you to wager. I’ve more than one wicked bone in this body.”
That sent a heat straight up her spine, and Kate swallowed. There were few persons who could confound her, but Montgomery happened to be the king.
“Ah, look here! I’ve offended you,” he said cheerfully.
Offended was not exactly the word she’d use, and she laughed. “Offended? Never! Titillated is more accurate,” she said, and unthinkingly stole a glimpse of her father over her shoulder. He was keeping quite a distance behind her and Lord Montgomery. She slid her gaze to his lordship again; his two thick brows had risen quite up to his hat.
“I’ll have you know that the gentleman in me is aghast at having titillated. But the man in me is rather intrigued by it.”
She believed him—his eyes were glittering with the intrigue, and she could feel the spark of it herself, all the way to her toes.
“I find I rather enjoy titillating beautiful young widows.”
And this young widow enjoyed being titillated—in fact, she was so caught up in the state of titillation that she had not noticed they had come to a crossing point. Montgomery casually caught her elbow, held it firmly as he looked one way and then the other, and propelled her across the street.
“I have misjudged you, then,” Kate said airily, thoroughly enjoying his possessive hand on her arm. “You are a wicked man if you enjoy titillating widows.”
“Ah, Mrs. Becket, I give you my word that I am indeed quite wicked when the situation warrants.” They had reached the other side of the street, yet he held fast to her elbow and looked her in the eye. “And I give you my word that I would endeavor to be as wicked as you’d like, given the slightest opportunity.”
The fire in her was now burning quite out of control, her mind racing with deliciously dark thoughts of just how wicked this handsome man might be with her. As the heat rose to her cheeks, she laughed. “If I didn’t know you to be a gentleman of the highest caliber, my lord, I would believe you are trying to seduce me.”
He cocked a brow as his gaze boldly swept the length of her. “What’s a man to do then,” he muttered, “when a widow puts away her weeds and presents herself so pleasingly?” he asked, slowly lifting his gaze to hers again. “A lovelier woman I’ve not seen, Mrs. Becket. You are the stuff of men’s dreams,” he said, as his gaze dipped to her bosom. “A pret tier gown I’ve not seen . . . or perhaps it is the woman who makes the gown so delightful.”
Kate laughed at his blatant attempted to seduce her. “You are a rake!” she cried happily and pulled her elbow free of his hand. “I am now quite convinced that the rumors of your . . . skill . . . with the ladies of the ton must be well deserved.”
“My reputation is indeed well deserved!” he said with mock indignation. “But I would toss all others aside for the mere pleasure of your company, I assure you.”
Now Kate laughed roundly, tossing her head back with delight. “Honestly, my Lord Montgomery!” she declared. “How silly you are! I am hardly one of the many naive young debutantes who seek your attention, and I daresay I cannot be drawn into your charms with false flattery!”
“Ah!” he cried, bringing a hand to his heart. “I am mortally wounded, Mrs. Becket, for how could one gaze upon a face as lovely as yours and offer anything but the sincerest and warmest esteem?”
“Have you considered the theater?” Kate asked flippantly as she continued up the street. “I should think you’d make a fine dramatic actor!”