“Coming where?”
“If I tell you, you might overthink it. And where would be the fun in that?”
I closed my gaping mouth and brought my fingernail between my teeth. “I suppose I don’t have any pressing plans.”
“Good, then we will embark on your first challenge—part of which includes me stretching my legs with a short walk.”
I reluctantly stood, both nervous and oddly excited. Lord Camden curled his mouth into a smile, seemingly impressed that I had not cowered and ran. Seeing it emboldened me.
I waved, with my book in hand, toward the path. “By all means, show me the way.”
Lord Camden offered me his arm as if he had done so a hundred other times.
I pretended he had, suppressing the fact that he was my employer, and linked arms with him. It couldn’t hurt to get into the spirit of our outing. It was just one day.
On our walk to who knows where, Lord Camden pretended to be my tour guide, offering strange facts about the grounds, the house, and his childhood at Rosemont. Mother would have chided me for laughing too loudly, but Lord Camden was surprisingly witty.
And even though I had no idea what his plan was for me this afternoon, I was confident that I was about to do something that I never would have done if I had stayed at Norwood Hall.
Chapter 20
Atlas
Ihad not expected to spend my afternoon with Miss Lewis. I had ridden out to meet my guards at the remains of a second mysterious camp located on the farthest corner of my property, opposite from where the first camp had been found. The only evidence left behind was a patch of cleared ground where a sleeping mat had rested and a scattering of food scraps, now being picked over by birds—silent witnesses to the recent presence of my intruder. I had been caught up in the frustration of our findings when I had noticed Miss Lewis on my walk back from the stables.
This close to the house, I had no reason to fear her safety. And yet, an urge to protect her had rivaled my curiosity about her presence in the garden. Stealing her book to find out what interested her had been entirely unintentional. Even after monopolizing her time for a quarter of an hour, I had not been able to return inside to my duties. I had already written Mr. Gregory to follow up on his findings about Miss Palmer and approved a supply list for Dr. Newman. All that waited was the scathing letter I planned to write to Mr. Blackwood over his lack of progress in finding my attacker.
What I needed now was an activity to keep my mind from obsessing over my problems. Before the attack, I would have chased the rush of a profitable card game, but such a thought now brought instant loathing.Miss Lewis, on the other hand, was a far more irresistible subject—one that held my attention captive. The longer I was in her company, the less I thought about my past or my intruders.
She was the ultimate distraction.
I adopted my tour guide voice once more—one more sophisticated and a touch deeper than my natural tone—a voice I had purposefully used because it would never, ever work to woo a lady and reminded me that my intentions were friendly and nothing more. “Here we have Rosemont stables, the hidden gem of the estate,” I said. “The walls are a vogue, rustic brown, and the decor the finest equestrian wares money can buy. But please, watch your step.” I pulled one side of the double wooden doors open and led Miss Lewis inside.
“You’re right.” Miss Lewis adopted an exaggerated voice of her own. “The faded wood stalls are absolutely stunning.”
“Lord Camden.” Jerry set down a leather harness he was oiling and bowed, clearly surprised to see me return so quickly. “Can I saddle up Champion for you again?” He glanced at Miss Lewis. “And a mare for the lady?”
“Not now,” I said. “We are visiting the horses and no more.”
“Very good. The hands and I will be in the back if you need anything at all.”
“Thank you, Jerry.”
Jerry turned and hollered at the other three stable hands, who rushed to vacate the stalls so we might have privacy.
I guided Miss Lewis toward the horses. “Shall I start with introductions?”
“You wouldn’t be an adequate host if you neglected them,” she teased. I liked this side of her. Without Augusta to watch over, her walls had lowered, and she was playful and easy to banter with.
“Then let me start with the king of the stables. Miss Lewis, this is Champion, my loyal steed.” Champion lifted his black head to acknowledge my voice, and I gave it a stroke. “He won the 2,000 Guineas Stakes a few years ago. But even more remarkable than his speed is his loyalty. After my, uh, accident, he returned to my stables on his own, alerting the others that something was wrong. They were quite worried until they heard from me.”
“A pleasure to meet you, your highness,” Miss Lewis quipped.
“Careful, you will insult his highness if you do not greet him properly.”
“Oh?” Miss Lewis dipped into a curtsy.
I chuckled. “That is not what I meant. Champion likes to be greeted with a pat on his head or neck.
