“I read those articles. My mother showed them to me. They were rather well done. You painted a portrait, so my mother was able to envision you on those journeys. She commented once that she felt like she was traveling along with you.”
“That was very kind of her. And you, for telling me.”
She was rather certain he was blushing.
He tipped his hat slightly. “Well, I shan’t impose upon your time any longer.”
“It was no imposition, my lord, but rather a joy. Thank you for gracing my afternoon.”
Now he truly was blushing, pleasure more than embarrassment radiating from his eyes. “Good day, Miss Leyland.”
“Good day, my lord.”
“Knightly.”
“Chidding.”
The viscount loped away.
“He’s smitten,” Knightly said.
“It was rude of you to listen.”
“I tried not to.”
She scowled at him. “I doubt that very much.”
“Does he possess that key to which you were referring?”
“That, my lord, is none of your concern. I believe I’ve had sufficient time in the park and enough of your company.”
Before he could respond, knowing Millie would follow her, she nudged Queen into a gallop. Oh, thehorse was quick to respond and smooth. Regina would like to have her in an open field. They would be as one. Damn, Knightly. He’d always known the gifts that would please her the most. The mare pleased Regina immensely. She was going to keep her.
Chapter 14
I knew my giving in to temptation would be frowned upon—or worse, would see me exiled from polite society. The notion left me flummoxed because I truly could not understand how something that felt so right could in fact be so terribly wrong.
—Anonymous,My Secret Desires, A Memoir
June 22, 1875
Regina was traveling to the theater in Chidding’s coach. Their first public outing together. He’d paid her a visit the day before. They’d sipped tea in her drawing room.
“The weather has been quite pleasant of late,” he’d said.
The state of the climate was his favorite topic, it seemed. She couldn’t recall ever discussing it with Knightly, and then berated herself for the constant comparison of the two men. They were nothing alike. One was reliable, one was not.
So they’d nattered on about the weather for a while.Then he’d surprised her with, “It’s my understanding you like the theater.”
She’d smiled warmly. “I do, indeed.” As a young girl, she’d often stood backstage and observed her mother during rehearsals. The activity that went on behind the curtain—the workers arranging the sets, the seamstresses who provided the costumes, the actors waiting in the wings to make their appearance—had fascinated her far more than what occurred on the stage. But she didn’t mention any of that to him because she didn’t want to remind him that her mother had been scandalous and that she, herself, had begun life in an unspeakable manner.
“Would you honor me by accompanying me to the theater?”
Hence there she was, traveling in his gleaming carriage with its worn and frayed upholstered squabs. But she didn’t mind that some upkeep was needed. His attention and desire to be with her were more important than any conveyance.
He’d coerced a widowed cousin, the Countess of Finsbury, to serve as chaperone. Sitting beside Regina, she used the waning light of sunset to read, of all things,My Secret Desires. If it wasn’t upending her life, Regina might have been pleased that the lady seemed to be completely absorbed by the story. She suspected their present guardian wasn’t going to be nearly as watchful as Mrs. Dorsett. She also suspected Chidding was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of the opportunity to do something he ought not.
“How long since you’ve been to the theater?” he asked now.
