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He chuckled at that. “No one could ever accuse you of elegance, Rosaline. You must have more of a care in future.”
Rosaline took a breath, stepping back and glancing up at him all in one movement.
“Ishall try my best.” She turned to walk on, but Lord Benedict spoke again, stopping her in her tracks.
“I’m sorry.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “For what?”
“For what happened in the sunroom at the Viscountess’ party. I am the gentleman, and this arrangement is at my request. I ought to have been more vigilant, both for your sake and for mine. So, I am sorry.”
Rosaline turned to face him with a shy smile. “You needn’t worry. I’m just as much to blame as you. I wasn’t forced into that sunroom.”
Lord Benedict paused, eyeing her closely. Then he extended a hand, palm facing inwards, just as if he were asking another man to shake his hand.
“So, shall we go forward as friends? A team, rather than two ridiculous young people trying to make their way in the world?”
Rosaline smiled. She reached out and took Lord Benedict’s hand in hers, and he closed his hand around her fingers. His grip was firm but not too tight, and his palm warm, dry, and rough.
“Friends?” he inquired.
“Friends.” Rosaline answered.
The word didn’t sound right in her mouth. It wasn’t that shedidn’twish to be Lord Benedict’s friend, it was just… oh, it was too complicated for Rosaline to work out. Lord Benedict was looking down at her strangely, almost as if something were perplexing him. He opened his mouth to speak, and Rosaline’s heart sped up.
Then a tremendous clap of thunder boomed across the sky, and a white-hot streak of lightening lit up the park, at the same instant.
Lord Benedict dropped her hand as though it burned him and leapt back. His eyes were wide with fear, like an animal’s, and his gaze swept the sky, every muscle in his frame stiff and panicky.
“Itold Grandmother, I told her the storm would break!” he whispered, his hands clenching and unclenching by his side.
Rosaline took a dubious step forward, reaching her hand out as though soothing a skittish horse.
“Lord Benedict, what’s wrong? Are you afraid of the thunder?”
His ice-cold eyes zeroed onto Rosaline, and she quailed back.
“Afraid?” he snapped. “Afraid, like a child?”
“Ididn’t mean…”
“How dare you? Howdareyou? You don’t understand anything. Get out of my way.”
Lord Benedict marched forward, almost shouldering Rosaline out of the way. He began to run through the haze of rain, flinching again when the thunder rumbled.
Rosaline watched him go in shock and concern. Irritation only began to set in once she realized that he really had gone and left her alone in the middle of Hyde Park.
CHAPTER16
Alittle boy scrambled to his feet, his brand-new, shiny boots slipping on the steep slope of slick, mossy rocks. The heavy rain had plastered his hair to his head and ran into his eyes. He had a cut on his forehead, and the rain left bloody trickles from the gash all the way down his face, where it dripped from his chin.
He flung himself at the carriage, grabbing for the door.
The carriage was little more than a twisted wreck of glass and metal. The horses, poor creatures, had been killed when the whole thing slipped from the old path onto the rocks below.
It wasn’t the rain that had killed them. The coachman, kind, sturdy old Jacob, had been driving them as usual. The boy didn’t know what had happened, only that the coachman was lying still further along the path, and no amount of shaking and screaming could wake him.
Flinching as a thunderclap broke overhead, lightening zigzagging down to meet the earth, the boy continued tugging at the carriage.
