Page 12 of The Duke of Kisses
Graham shrugged. “Perhaps. You like phaetons.”
“I did until I crashed one.” That had been David’s reputation at Cambridge—driving fast. He’d been unbeatable until he’d botched a turn, distracted by a heron. He had to be the only man whose attention could be stolen by a bloody bird. There was just something about them and what they represented: freedom.
“It’s past time you got back on the perch.”
The butler, a flat-faced man Graham had hired last month, arrived in the doorway. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but you have a pair of visitors. The Earl of Ware and Mr. Anthony Colton.”
David rose, which prompted Graham to stand too. “You can stay here and deal with that,” David said, gesturing toward the pile of correspondence on the desk. It still felt odd, having his friend work for him, but they’d known this would come to pass. Again, it had just occurred sooner than they’d thought. David looked at Trask, the butler. “I’ll meet them in the drawing room.”
“Very good, sir.” Trask offered a quick bow before taking himself off.
David rounded the desk and looked to Graham. “Are you certain you find this arrangement acceptable? I could find another secretary.”
“And what would I do instead?” Graham arched a brow. “I lack funds, position, and interest in anything else. If I ever win a sizeable pot that would allow me to pursue a life of indolence, you can find a new secretary.” He laughed, clapping David’s shoulder as he moved around him to sit behind the desk.
Shaking his head with a faint smile, David went upstairs to the drawing room. Ware and Anthony stood near the windows overlooking Bolton Street.
“Afternoon, St. Ives,” Anthony said, turning. “We’re on our way to the park and wondered if you’d care to join us.”
David noted their horses were in front of his house, with one of his grooms attending them. “I’m not dressed for riding.”
“We didn’t think you would be. We can walk today, knowing you’ve no quarrel with that activity.” He and Ware exchanged smiles that prompted David to let out a brief chuckle. “Tomorrow we’ll ride, unless you decide you hate the park.”
He looked between them. “Is there something to hate?”
Ware lifted his shoulder. “Besides matchmaking mamas and overeager husband hunters? Not a thing.”
“Ignore him,” Anthony said. “He’s sensitive to anything to do with marriage.”
Ware nodded rather somberly. “It makes me violently ill.”
David laughed. “I will endeavor to remember that. Let me just fetch my hat and gloves.”
Ten minutes later, they were on their way to Hyde Park along Piccadilly. “I thought you were supposed to go at five o’clock,” David said. It was only half four.
“It’s close enough,” Anthony answered. “Felix has to conduct a meeting at a quarter before the hour.”
“What sort of meeting?” David knew he was lacking when it came to London habits, but meeting in the park was one he hadn’t even heard of.
“I’m starting up weekly races,” Felix said as they neared Hyde Park Gate.
David had learned last night that Felix wasthefacilitator of amusement. “Aren’t there clubs that race?”
“Yes, but exclusive clubs are soboring.” Felix stretched the last word a bit.
“I see.” David would likely have a phaeton by then. He hadn’t felt an urge to race in some time, but the desire swept over him rather fiercely for a moment. “I used to race.”
Felix’s brows shot up. “Did you? Well, then it’s good you came with us so you can attend the meeting.” He gave his walking stick a jaunty flick as they walked into the park through the gate.
“Down by the Serpentine?” Anthony asked.
At Felix’s answering nod, they made their way in that direction. David had been there a few times, but not in years. He followed their lead down to the bank of the water. Right away, he began cataloguing the waterfowl—coots, moorhens, and a few tufted ducks.
A handful of men had gathered, and David listened with one ear while he focused on the birds. A pair of mated swans glided into view. David made a mental list so he could write down all he’d seen when he returned home. He could see that morning walks to the park might become his habit.
Then his attention was drawn to something else entirely. A trio of women coming down a different path toward the Serpentine, one of whom was Frances Snowden.
He’d hated not being able to speak with her more privately last night. He wasn’t going to let that happen again today.
