His deep laughter rang out over the green, drawing attention to them. Regina wasn’t certain if he’d taken joy in her scathing retort or had simply wanted to ensure people noticed they were riding through the park.
The story she was writing was not going precisely as she had envisioned it. She thought it unlikelythegentleman was going to meet a tragic end, because he and the lady were reconciling. She was deuced irritated by that. Every time she began writing a scene in which he would endure something horrible, it ended with them kissing. An encounter with ruffians. Kiss. A knife wound. Kiss. A bullet lodged in his shoulder. Kiss. As the author, she believed she should have more control over her characters, but they seemed to disagree, and she’d find herself scrawling words she’d never intended to put to paper. It was frightfully vexing.
Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to scratch through the words because they brought her a measure of happiness that, after all the trials and tribulations suffered in the first book, they were fighting their way toward something more lasting, and she wasn’t quite certain she had it within her to deny them a triumphant end.
She imagined if she confessed all that to Knightly he’d again laugh with abandon, would offer her no pity for her struggles. Although she wouldn’t mind the laugh. She’d always loved the manner in which it boomed, uninhibited and carefree.
She also liked that she could discuss her writing with him, even if she didn’t go into much detail. At times, she wished her name was on the cover, so she could speak to others about it. What a disaster that would be. Bremsford would see her skewered, the hateful little man.
“Prepare yourself,” Knightly suddenly said. “Your suitor approaches.”
Looking in the direction he indicated, she watched as Chidding trotted his dun-colored horse toward them. Once more, she and Knightly drew their own steeds to a halt waiting for the viscount’s arrival. He was outfitted in all gray—dark gray trousers, coat, and hat, light gray shirt, waistcoat, and neckcloth. As he came to a stop before them, possessively closer to her than to Knightly, he gracefully removed his hat from his head. “Miss Leyland. Lord Knightly.”
“Chidding,” Knightly stated flatly.
Rather than reaching over and smacking him for greeting Lady Letitia with far more warmth, she smiled sweetly at the viscount. “My lord, what a pleasure to encounter you on this fine day. I hope you’re well.”
“I am, Miss Leyland, although somewhat taken by surprise at the sight of the two of you together.”
She imagined he could excuse a dance, but the park? “It’s just a friendly outing, mending fences as it were. I’m more convinced than ever that Knightly and I really didn’t suit and together we’d have had a miserable existence.”
Although she kept her gaze on Chidding, she could feel her former lover’s glare boring into her. She tried not to appear too satisfied in getting a rise out of him.She would have to commend him later for not responding with a cutting remark.
“Why don’t you join us while we take in the scenery, Chidding?” he offered instead. “My horse gets antsy when he has to stand around too long.”
The steed was presently standing nearly as still as a statue.
“Don’t mind if I do,” the viscount said.
Regina soon found herself between the two gents. They’d never both concurrently been in her presence for any length of time, so she’d had no chance to compare them. Knightly of the dark hair and skin bronzed by the hours he spent riding was devilishly handsome. Chidding’s hair was a burnished red. His fair skin reflected a man who spent more time in his library than outdoors, quite possibly because the sun was likely to burn him to a crisp or perhaps he was simply more studious by nature. He possessed pleasing features, everything perfectly aligned and proportional. He was more slender, not quite as tall. She doubted he had the wherewithal to lift her into his arms, but then she was fully capable of standing on her own two feet. She’d once felt treasured when Knightly cradled her against his chest and carried her to bed. Now dependability, steadfastness, and the keeping of promises were worth more to her than gold.
“Splendid weather we’re having today,” Chidding stated.
And it was. Bright blue sky and billowing white clouds. A gentle light breeze that stirred feathers on hats but didn’t threaten to yank them from their moorings. “It is indeed.”
They journeyed several paces in silence.
“How is your mother?” she finally asked, remembering that his mother was alive, unlike Knightly’s.
“Aging, you know. She has a difficult time remembering things of late. I’m rather certain she would like to have you for tea some afternoon.”
“I’d enjoy that.”
“Your own mother passed as I recall.”
“A few years back now. But a reminder of loss never fails to bring a twinge of pain, does it?”
“I suppose not. No.” He looked around her to Knightly before settling back into place. “I wonder if he is to be trusted? He won you over once. I can’t believe he’s not attempting to do so again.”
“I was young and innocent then. Not so much now. I promise you, my lord, he has no sway over me. And my heart is quite closed to him.”
His dark eyes reflected sadness and understanding. “Is it forever closed, do you think?”
Her smile was soft, and she hoped both inviting and reassuring. “No, my lord. I believe the right man holds the key to unlocking it again.”
“Sometimes, Miss Leyland, I am dazzled by how lyrically you speak. I wonder if you’ve ever considered turning your talents toward writing a novel.”
Suddenly she felt like the young girl who’d tumbled down a rabbit hole in the book she was reading to Arianna each night before bed, and she was having a difficult time drawing breath. It was an innocent statement, a form of flattery. Nonetheless because of Bremsford, she was suspicious of anyone striving to find her out and wary of his comment. “I wrote somearticles for a lady’s magazine while I was traveling through Europe, but I don’t know that I have the patience or skill for penning an entire tome.”
