As expected, murmurs drifted among passing aristocrats, and lingering glances were exchanged as the small gathering undeniably attracted notice.
Blanche clenched her jaw slightly. Her mother was enjoying this far too much.
Heath merely smiled. “What an enticing offer, my lady.”
Blanche sighed inwardly, already bracing for the storm of gossip that would follow.
Still, a lingering question nagged at her mind—one she could not let go of so easily.
She lifted her chin slightly, eyes narrowing. “And might I ask, Your Grace, how exactly you happened upon us this afternoon?”
Heath’s smirk did not waver. “Might you? Indeed. But whether my answer satisfies, that is another matter entirely.”
Blanche inhaled, leveling him with an expectant stare. “Then I shall insist upon satisfaction.”
Before Heath could reply, Lady Gooldwer intervened with a delighted laugh. “Oh, Blanche, must you interrogate the poor man so? He has simply graced us with his company—how fortunate we are!”
Blanche bit back a sigh, fingers tightening subtly around the book in her lap. The novel’s hero—the untouchable, unreadable duke—lingered in her thoughts, his features blurring and reshaping into the man now standing before her.
“Might I join your stroll?” Heath offered his arm, gaze steady, expectant.
Her pulse stuttered.
Lady Gooldwer beamed before Blanche could respond, taking Fanny’s arm swiftly. “Oh, what a splendid idea! You and Blanche surely have much to discuss.”
Fanny cast Blanche a knowing glance, but Blanche was too distracted by the weight of the book in her hands, by the warmth curling at the edges of her thoughts.
Swallowing her nerves, Blanche accepted.
She hesitated only a breath before looping her gloved fingers through the offered arm of the Duke. The fabric of his coat was smooth beneath her touch, finely tailored, impeccably fitted—a stark contrast to the quiet tension humming beneath her skin.
He did not press closer, nor did he tighten his hold, yet his presence alone seemed to command her awareness in a way she had never quite experienced.
Her gaze flickered briefly over the sharp lines of his profile, the calm confidence in his stride, and the effortless grace with which he moved. There was nothing hurried, nothing uncertain—only the quiet assurance of a man entirely accustomed to command.
And for the first time, she wondered—just for a fleeting moment—what it would feel like if the barrier of fabric between them were gone.
What would it be like if his warmth met mine?
The thought curled through her, delicate, unbidden, before she quickly cast it aside.
Yet her fingers remained where they were, lightly pressed to his arm, steady despite the errant thoughts that had dared to take root.
Mother thinks her prayers answered, Blanche mused. This will fuel endless gossip.
Yet Heath seemed unconcerned, his casual confidence steadying her. Studying his profile, she recalled her earlier fantasy—Heath’s lips trailing her body as she explored newfound passions.
I shouldn’t be imagining this. Not with him…
“Penny for your thoughts?” Heath inquired.
“Just wondering what rumors this stroll will spawn.”
“Do you relish being in the public eye?” Heath looked curious about it.
“Not at all. Though Mother clearly does.” They watched Lady Gooldwer bask in attention.
“You differ greatly.”
