Page 103

Cleo smiled at him. “That’s the lure?”

“It means that I don’t have to dress like a fop,” Jake said dryly.

She let her eyes travel over him slowly. Given the warm weather, he wasn’t wearing a greatcoat. His clothing wasn’t orange, purple, or flowered. It wasn’t overly tight. It didn’t shimmer or glisten. Instead, he was wearing a gentleman’s frock coat, the kind that is designed to indicate status, but also allow for movement.

“I suppose you’ll be able to fight off those highwaymen,” she murmured, shifting in her seat because . . .

Because.

His eyes gleamed at her. “I’ll do my best.”

Green Park turned out to be near wilderness, with just a winding road running through it. She looked through the carriage windows, entranced. She’d never seen the great forests of the North, nor even Epping Forest. Tall trees crowded up to the road.

“Oh, look!” she breathed.

He slid over.

“I saw a bluebell meadow through a gap in the trees . . . You missed it.”

“The park includes forty acres of mature trees, with a few meadows sprinkled here or there. They’re talking of landscaping it,” Jake said, his voice dropping to a growl. “I’m stopping that.”

“You are?”

“Got hold of the fellow they contracted,” Jake said, with satisfaction. “Name of John Nash. I’m fairly sure that he sees it my way. London is full of sculpted parks with rows of flowers. This one should remain wild.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in parks,” Cleo exclaimed.

“I’ve been coming here whenever I need to stretch my legs and breathe.”

Before Cleo could respond, the carriage rumbled to a stop, and Jake jumped out. A rush of air came in the open doorway, not the neat flowery smell of English hedgerows, but something fresher. Cleo stepped out, just in time to see the coachman and footman disengage the horses and lead them away.

“Where on earth are they going?” she asked, as Jake kicked a stone more securely under one of the front wheels and came around to her.

“To water the horses.” He slung an arm around her shoulder. “Can you hear anything?”

She cocked her head. “Starlings.”

“Fighting,” Jake said, nodding. “They’re city birds, but give them a chance and they’ll make their way out here and brawl on the treetops.”

“I can’t hear anything else,” Cleo said, wonderingly.

“The road stops here, so no one comes this way,” Jake said.

“How did you discover it?”

“I lope around for exercise,” he said, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Not gentlemanly, but I seem to require more movement than most. I certainly couldn’t do it in Hyde Park.”

Cleo blinked, thinking about his expression, and then: “You don’t wear clothing!”

“I wear some clothing,” Jake said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Breeches, but they’re made from cotton and not fashionable.”

She smiled and ran her hands around his middle. “High-waisted?”

“Not particularly,” he said, lowering his head to drop kisses on her forehead.

“I should like to see you running about,” Cleo said, running her hands up his back and then stepping closer to his warmth.

“Any time you wish. Are you hungry?”