She had truly thought that she would not cross paths with the Duke of Blackthorn again—and yet there he was, riding towards her on a sleek, black stallion. Her heart was a treacherous thing in her chest, and she could only hope her surprise and admiration did not show on her face in a deep flush.
Then his eyes locked onto hers, and Hyde Park faded away, and Amelia knew she was blushing. Something passed through the duke’s face, something akin to confusion as he frowned, a half-smile on his full lips, and then a softness that took over his expression.
Amelia’s feet rooted her to the spot, unable to continue walking even if she tried.
The two men neared, and Eleanor’s long exhale was a sign of her own giddiness at their approach.
His Grace reined in his horse right before them. The night before he had been reserved and guarded but now he was stiff, formal, looking down at her as though he did not know her. As though they had not shared a dance the night before. His head inclined in a curt greeting, and she noticed how the wind toyed with the longer lengths of his hair peeking out beneath his hat. His eyes met Amelia’s briefly before he continued looking around the park, as though she was merely just another fixture of his surroundings. Except his gaze soon returned.
“Miss Hawthorne, Lady Eleanor,” he greeted, his voice low.
The formality of his greeting was at odds with how he gazed down at her before blinking and breaking off his gaze.
Amelia curtsied. “Your Grace. It is fine weather we are having today, is it not?”
He felt so distanced from her, yet only the night before he had held her so close, steadied her when the rest of the world had gone off-kilter. Did he remove himself from her attention due to the nature of the scandal sheet?
“It is,” the Duke of Blackthorn agreed, not continuing the conversation. He looked impatiently back at Lord Owen Radcliffe, whom Eleanor had danced with. He tipped his hat at her, far more friendly than the Duke was.
“Lady Eleanor, Miss Hawthorne,” he greeted, his voice brighter. In comparison to the Duke’s stiff expression, Lord Owen was warmer, brighter, and Eleanor was gazing up at him in wonder. “It is too beautiful of a day tospend indoors. Hyde Park bathes in the sunlight, does it not?”
“It does,” Eleanor said, her voice high and giddy. “I could not help but notice there is a new bloom of sunflowers further down, just beyond the bridge. If you are fond of the local flora, my lord, then you may wish to view it.”
Amelia could not help but notice that the Duke of Blackthorn looked away as if in impatience. His jaw clenched even as he watched his friend speak with Eleanor. There was a pucker between his brow.Is he jealous of his friend’s conversation? Amelia thought.Should I have said more?
“I have been recently interested in the boughs of mint,” Lord Owen was saying to her friend. “They smell incredible, very fresh, especially in one’s parlor.”
“I believe it is also very refreshing to have tea after a fine dinner,” Eleanor responded.
“Dancingandflora, Lady Eleanor,” Lord Owen laughed. “Your knowledge impresses me.”
It was as if they were the only two in the world, and Amelia could not help but feel a stab of envy. When she turned her focus back to the duke, he was already watching her with a sharp gaze. He blinked, as if not expecting to be caught.
He cleared his throat. “The—ah, the park is very suitable for riding today, it seems. It is busy but not so that people walk in the way of the horses.”
His words were jolted and stiff, as if he had not quite known what to say but wished to say something. Amelia wanted to speak truly and deeply, to ask what he thought of the gossip column, to ask about the night of his rumoured duel, to ask a thousand things, but all that came out was, “What pathways do you favour, Your Grace?”
Once again, he looked surprised, as if he had not expected her to respond as such. “I tend to ride parallel to the lake. I have found it is rather picturesque and it loosens my thoughts most.”
“You like the water?” she urged.
He nodded. “My family’s countryside estate oversees the cliffs of Blackthorn. It is rather beautiful, so I grew up with a natural affinity for it.”
“Where is the estate—”
Amelia was cut off by the sound of boisterous laughter, and she turned to see an approaching group of young ladies, all in the current fashion, sporting different colors. At the front of the group was Cassandra Kensington, her eyes narrowed as she noticed Amelia stood before the duke’s horse. Beatrice, next to her, was already looking forlornly at where Eleanor and Lord Owen were talking.
Cassandra’s fan opened with a sharpsnap.
Amelia caught the duke’s clenched jaw as he lifted his gaze to the approaching group.Is he… it is like he is annoyed at being interrupted.The thought intrigued her, and pleased her, but also confused her. For she would have thought he was grateful for the interruption.
Lord Owen and the duke exchanged a glance as if ready to escape the group of ladies. They both nodded discreetly at one another.
“Good day, Miss Hawthorne, Lady Eleanor,” the duke murmured, as Lord Owen bid his own cheerful, hurried farewell. His Grace’s eyes lingered on Amelia for another long moment before they rode away, onward, past the ladies. Politely, they tipped their hats but Amelia could not help but notice that they did not stop to speak.
For Cassandra, the most desired lady of her Seasons—only having a terribly unsuccessful first Season due to her betrothed having an affair—the shun must have wounded her. And she realized that wound was manifesting into a weapon aimed right at Amelia, as the group drew closer...
“Well, well,” Cassandra drawled, her voice too sweet. “If it is not the ton’s wallflower.”
