Page 53 of When the Viscount Seduces
I hope this finds you well and working hard. I know you will continue to improve with your reading, and I look forward to seeing the results someday.
How would that happen? Unless she was hoping they would find a way to communicate or spend time together. Probably as friends. He continued reading.
I apologize for the romantic nature of this poem, but I thought it would be good practice. It is also how I think of you. If you would like, please write back with how you managed. I would also appreciate any updates on your progress with memorizing your speech.
Fondly,
Gwen
She’d sent a romantic poem? And it was how she thought of him? And she’d signed it “fondly.”
A grin spread his lips as wide as they could go. Throwing off his coat, he went to the desk, eager to read this poem. He finished it in a shockingly short amount of time, and he was filled with hope.
Yes, he would look for her in the park tomorrow, and failing that, he would call on her the following day. He would not allow regret to steal any more from him. Nor would he allow love to slip away.
The afternoon was pleasant in Hyde Park as Gwen walked with her mother toward the Ring. The weather had been cool thus far this spring, so the sun peeking from the clouds was most welcome.
As soon as they neared the Ring, Mr. Henry Wilton approached and asked if he could take Gwen for a promenade. Smiling, Gwen’s mother agreed and turned her over to the gentleman with light brown hair and blue eyes. Mr. Wilton was of average height and a rather round face. He was not the most effusive person, but Gwen admired his intellect and interest in science and history.
“I trust you’ve been well the past few days,” Mr. Wilton said as they began their promenade.
Gwen had last seen him at Almack’s the evening before last. “Indeed. And you?”
“Quite. Yesterday, I received a most enlightening paper from a scholar who is mentoring me on the subject of the Roman occupation of Britain. It has been fascinating to read.”
That reminded Gwen of Tamsin’s father, who was a scholar of history. She seemed to recall that he particularly enjoyed studying the Roman period. “I’ve a friend whose father specializes in that part of history. Perhaps you’d care to correspond with him. He resides in Cornwall and does not travel to London.”
Mr. Wilton looked over at her with marked interest. It was the most animated she’d ever seen him, in fact. “Cornwall, you say? The gentleman who sent me this paper lives in St. Austell. Mr. Penrose.”
Gwen laughed. “That is my friend’s father. She is the Lady Droxford.”
“I had no idea,” Mr. Wilton said. “What a very small world we live in as we are all connected in one way or another.”
As they continued around the Ring, Gwen looked about and saw many acquaintances. She also saw Min and Ellis and waved at them. At length, she realized she was looking for Lazarus. Though it had been only two days since she’d seen him, she missed his presence. His laughter, the way he looked at her, the diligence with which he worked on his reading. The exceptional skill and passion of his kisses.
Do not think about that, particularly when you are walking with another gentleman!
Suddenly, Lazarus was there. She saw him standing off the track. He was with a beautiful young woman, which sent a pang of envy through Gwen. She wanted to be the woman he was standing and conversing with. Not just in the park, but everywhere.
Mr. Wilton continued talking about the Roman Empire, which normally would have drawn Gwen’s interest, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Lazarus. Or stealing glances in his direction—until they passed him. Had he seen her? He hadn’t seemed to. And if he had, he would likely not have acknowledged her.
Feeling a bit morose as they returned to her mother, Gwen wished she could stop thinking of Lazarus. He wasn’t interested in her the way she might be in him. Might? What did she want?
More.Gwen wanted more of Lazarus. More kissing. More time together. More attending literary salons and being king and queen at medieval balls. She even wanted more dancing, which was baffling.
But he was a confirmed rogue with no interest in anything beyond the kisses they shared and the agreement they’d made.They’d become friends, and she knew he held her in high regard, but in the end, he was still the man she knew him to be: someone not entirely serious who enjoyed the liberty and debauchery of a wealthy, titled, rakish gentleman.
Was he really that man, though? Gwen saw him as so much more, even if he didn’t see it himself.
They arrived at her mother, and Mr. Wilton bowed. He said he looked forward to seeing Gwen soon, and she agreed.
“Do you like him?” her mother asked after he departed.
“Mr. Wilton is quite clever,” Gwen said, her gaze straying to Lazarus where he was still talking to the young lady. She wore a stunning teal-blue walking dress and a pretty hat adorned with flowers and a peacock feather.
“Do you prefer Mr. Markwith?”
Gwen dragged her focus from Lazarus and looked toward her mother. “Perhaps. I haven’t decided.”
