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“Yes, miss,” the maid replied happily.
“Come on then, this way.”
Thankfully, because of the early hour the Ladies’ Mile was almost deserted. The normal gathering of pedestrians had yet to begin their daily foray into society, which suited Ursula perfectly. She drew in a deep breath of the crisp morning air and savoured the quiet that settled over them as they walked into the quietude of the park.
Birds chirruped merrily from their branches high in the trees which swished and swayed in the gentle breeze. Other than that, very little of the outside world could be heard.
“How wonderful,” she murmured, and tipped her head up a little so she could feel the sunlight on her face. The warm rays stole any chill from her cheeks and bathed her in a gentle glow that was nothing short of invigorating. The freedom of being able to enjoy such a moment, free of prying eyes and social strictures, fed her soul and brought a smile to her face that was so instinctive she didn’t even realise she was doing it. With each step she took she felt her worries and fears ease.
Now that her head had started to clear she began to think over everything that had happened of late. Although she hadn’t had the chance to discuss it with Trenton just yet, she suspected that the admirer who had sent her the flowers was either Alfred Sinnerton, or Brampton. There really was nobody else in London who had been so persistent in making their presence felt. People had approached her to converse at social engagements, most of whom were men. It was fair to say that the same people usually made their presence, and their interest, known whenever she went out. However, none of them had ever disturbed her as much as Brampton and Sinnerton.
Which one could it be though? Brampton was a rogue, yes, but if he already had a mistress, why would he send her flowers at such great expense? Did such a gesture befit Alfred Sinnerton though? He didn’t appear to have the wherewithal to say ‘boo’ to a goose. She just didn’t think he would have the gumption to do something as outrageous as sending a woman flowers, much less pen the flowery praise that came with them.
That turned her attention to the writing on the cards. That appeared to be too feminine to be a man’s writing. Could Mrs Sinnerton be behind the flowers? Was it possible that she might be pushing her son’s acquaintance along because he was too shy to do so himself? Somehow, she just couldn’t see someone like Eunice Sinnerton being that frivolous. She was the kind who would accost people in the streets, and positively order them to attend her social invitations.
“Accosting people in the streets,” she murmured thoughtfully as she remembered that fateful day when she had been hit on the head at the embankment. Were they connected?
“Good morning, Ursula,” Trenton murmured. His smile widened when she gasped and beamed up at him. The delight in her eyes warmed his heart and he found himself grinning at her as he dismounted so he could walk alongside her. Once at her side he pecked her on the cheek and winked at the maid.
“You shouldn’t,” Ursula chided him as she glanced furtively around them in search of witnesses. “What if anyone sees? Mrs Sinnerton is around here somewhere, you know.”
“I don’t care what Mrs Sinnerton wants, I am not kissing her on the cheek,” he countered with an unrepentant grin.
She laughed and nudged him as she threw him a rueful glance.
“You look as beautiful as ever,” he declared huskily. “I was going to come over to see you later. How is Adelaide today?”
“Oh, she is fine. A little tired, but is desperate to get out of bed. I don’t think we have a hope of confining her until she is fully recovered. She is out of sorts already.”
“Well, as long as she doesn’t accept any invitations just yet then she should be fine. After all, does it matter if she is resting in bed or sitting in the fire downstairs, as long as she is happy?”
Ursula studied the way the sunlight danced with the shadows on his face and felt such a strong wave of love sweep through her that it stole her breath. Knowing he wasn’t engaged yet fuelled that love and opened up a wealth of possibilities that increased her adoration tenfold.
“I have heard from father today,” she said quietly after several moments of amiable silence. She smiled when he tucked her hand through his arm, and kept his hand on top of hers in a loving gesture of intimacy that was nothing short of possessive.
Their eyes met and held. “He is pushing you to go back to Yorkshire,” he said, although it wasn’t a question.
She nodded. “He has accepted one of the offers for me and has said that I am engaged.”
“Then you must go back to Yorkshire,” he replied with a sigh.
He wondered just how much he should tell her just yet. They were not as far into their relationship as he would have liked by now but not taking her into his confidence was going to defeat his own purpose if he kept the charade going for much longer.
Because of the mysterious admirer, and the strange events that had befallen both Ursula and Adelaide, and the misunderstanding about Barbarella, romancing her had taken considerably longer than he had planned. Still, matters were on course now and nothing, not even Jeremiah Proctor, was going to throw them into confusion again.
“Would you like me to write to your father to notify him of your aunt’s accident? She is bedridden, Ursula, and shouldn’t be left alone right
now. I am sure that if Jeremiah is informed, and I request that you be allowed to stay in London to nurse her, he can hardly feel in a position to object. Adelaide is his sister after all, and you are family.”
She studied him, a little deflated that he seemed to accept her engagement to someone else so readily. She had thought that after what they had shared yesterday matters might be a little more, well, definite between them.
“Did you not hear what I said?” she asked bluntly, snatching her hand out from beneath his. “He has accepted an offer for my hand.”
“I know, I heard you,” he replied carefully. He flicked a glance at the maid who had taken a seat on a bench several feet away and was now pretending to be invisible. Thankful for the maid’s discretion, he stepped closer to Ursula. “It is just that you are not in Yorkshire yet,” he replied. “Unless you have any desire to return there in the immediate future, you can use Adelaide as an excuse to remain in London for now. By the time your father gets anywhere with making arrangements for a wedding, we shall have resolved the issue with your secret admirer, and can then discuss your engagement with your father.”
“How can you be so blaze about this? I know it may not mean much to you, but this is my future my father is signing away,” Ursula snapped. All of her earlier enjoyment had now vanished, and been replaced with a soul-deep hurt that echoed in her voice.
“Why are you so averse to marriage?” he asked reasonably, refusing to allow the issue to drop in spite of her distress.
