“Your horse is a Balcovian Arabian?” Philippa said skeptically.
“I said hespeaksit. Tulip is a clever horse. And yes, he’s a Balcovian Arabian. Haven’t you ever been two things at once?”
“I suppose we’re all many things at once,” she admitted.
“Just so.” The baron’s deep brown eyes were strangely intense. He blinked and smiled, and his expression became sunny and teasing once again. “Did you visit your mews to ensure it’s stocked with your animals’ preferred reading material?”
“I’m not allowed to go,” she replied. “Or Iwouldhave taken them a few books, if only to make the space cheerier.”
“I’ll slip in when no one’s looking and leave a volume or two about,” Baron Vanderbean promised. He guided his carriage toward the park. “If you had to guess, would your beasts lean more toward novels, biographies, or poetry?”
Her horses had shown no sparks of interest when Philippa entered the carriage with her usual purchases. It would have to be something unusual.
“Poetry,” she decided.
Tulip nickered, as though in approval.
The baron gave a sharp nod. “Consider it done. My brother Jacob is an expert in the subject. He will have fine recommendations. What about you? Is there anything you long to add to your collection?”
“The Northrup manuscripts,” she replied without hesitation.
He frowned. “I thought you already had one.”
Wasthatthe reason he’d wanted to be alone with her today? To discuss what to do about Damaris’s dreadful uncle? Of course it was. Philippa’s cheeks heated. While she had been thinking about the baron, he had been thinking about the case. She must do the same.
“I have a copy of the second volume,” she said, “but it is in poor condition. Just this morning, I discovered—”
But they’d reached the park. From the moment they drove through the open gates, all of Mother’s wildest matchmaking dreams started to come true.
Heads that never turned Philippa’s way, turned Philippa’s way. Persons who never slowed their fine carriages for more than a briefhow do you do, no matter how Mother tried to engage them, paused to gawp at Philippa and her handsome companion.
She found herself performing introduction after introduction, as if Miss York the inveterate wallflower gadding about town with a charming, raffish baron was perfectly commonplace.
For his part, Baron Vanderbean seemed cross with the attention, as though he really had hoped for an uninterrupted hour of conversation with Philippa.
“My apologies,” he said after greeting one of the patronesses of Almack’s. “I did not realize my presence would cause such a fuss.”
Motherhad realized it. She hoped he would keep causing fusses until Philippa landed an English lord.
“It’s no bother,” Philippa assured him. Then she remembered that Baron Vanderbean’s father had had a reputation for being reclusive. Given this was the first week most of society had ever glimpsed the new baron, it was reasonable to assume he was just as private. So far, he hadn’t sought anyone’s attention but Philippa’s. “At least, it’s no bother to me.”
“As long asyou’rehappy,” he said softly. “The offer to float away still stands.”
“That would be unlikely to causelessof a stir,” she said.
“The bigger the stir, the more amusing I find it,” he said with a grin so mischievous she could almost believe he meant it. That his discomfort was not with all the unusual attention, but annoyance at being pulled away from Philippa for even a moment.
It was flattering…and improbable. Yet she wanted so much for it to be true.
“How haven’t we met before?” she blurted out. “Have you been in Balcovia all of this time, and only just arrived?”
She recognized the impertinence of her question after it was already out of her mouth. She had essentially just accused him of failing to attend his own father’s funeral last year. Of course, the notice might not have reached him in time, but still—she had not meant to remind him of tragedy.
The baron lifted the reins and coaxed the carriage faster. “I’ve been…around.”
She’d said the wrong thing again. Even after his mourning period had ended, society invitations were their own paradox. One needed to know someone in order to be introduced to someone else, which could keep even a dashing lord like Baron Vanderbean stuck on the outside.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You asked me here today to discuss Damaris’s case for the cipher, not your personal affairs. I have no right to pry.”
