“No. I’ll just go fetch her, shall I?” To say Lady Trowbridge floated out of the room would be a gross understatement. Ambrose felt almost sorry for her obvious excitement. Her shoe caught on the Persian rug as she whizzed past the door.
Within moments she returned, Lady Cordelia in tow, hiding behind her guardian like a lamb would from a wolf. Smart girl.
He inclined his head to the side much like he had the previous night. It seemed the only logical thing to do, given the fact that she was half concealed.
“Cordelia,” her aunt scolded. “Greet your guest.”
Cordelia stepped from behind her aunt. Ambrose’s mouth went completely dry. A first for him, to be sure.
The girl was dressed in a simple white muslin that draped quite brilliantly over her voluptuous body. Why the devil had the girl chosen such a ridiculous dress as she had worn the night before? It was akin to hiding a flower underneath a dark storm cloud.
Stepping forward, he bowed and took her hand, lightly kissing her fingers. Irritation plagued him when he found himself quite without a single acceptable thing to say other than good day, which sounded incredibly boring.
“Lady Cordelia,” he crooned. “It is such a pleasure to see you again.”
A piece of hair fell across her cheekbone, without thinking his hand twitched to brush it back, and then he realized they had an audience. Surely that would not do.
“Would you be so kind as to accompany me on an afternoon ride through the park?” He hadn’t planned to take her out in public, but it would do more good than harm to have the ton gossips see them together. He would need complete participation from her if he was to pull this off without a hitch.
“I, um….” Cordelia’s eyes flickered for a moment before she nodded mutely.
“Lovely, darling! This is just lovely!” Her aunt clasped her hands together in glee. Ambrose would bet his best horse that the woman already picked out names for all their children.
“Right then, shall we?” He offered his arm. The lady took it, but he barely felt the presence of her arm in his. For being such a shy little thing, she certainly did have the body of a goddess. Not that he was looking or really thinking about it. It was more of a passing notion. Something that a gentleman, any gentleman with two eyes, would notice.
Once they were safely within the curricle, away from the watchful eyes of her aunt and uncle, he felt immensely better. Ambrose relished the thought of breathing without the interruption of the horrid coughing noise from Cordelia’s uncle.
“Lady Cordelia, I hope it is alright if I address you by your Christian name.”
She smiled, or at least he thought she did, but as quickly as it appeared it went away. She shrugged and continued to look at everything but him.
“I’ll take that as a yes. And please call me Ambrose. Everyone does.”
She tensed. “Why?”
It was barely a whisper, but he heard it nonetheless. “It just makes me seem more familiar…”
She shook her head. “No. I wasn’t referring to your name.”
“Then, I must admit I’m confused as to the question.”
Sighing, she turned to look at him. All her inner strength played across her face for him to see. “Why are you with me? Is this some sort of game? I assure you, it cannot make my reputation any worse, but I put my foot down when it comes to hurting my family.”
“Can’t imagine a girl with such tiny feet putting them down on anything really,” he said with a glance at her boots.
“You’re changing the subject.” Her voice trembled with diffidence.
“So I am, but you really do have lovely feet.” He cleared his throat. “I assure you, this is no game, Cordelia. You interest me. Is that too farfetched for your imagination?”
Cordelia smiled and looked at her gloved hands, so petite in her lap. He had the sudden urge to grab them, to protect and support her. To fight her battles and win them, if only to glimpse another smile. She seemed too sad for such a pretty girl. What was even sadder, to his ultimate disgrace, was that he never truly looked at her face until now. He merely made a judgment based on the horrid dress and harsh hairstyle.
She still hadn’t answered his question by the time they reached Hyde Park where all peers were busy driving around and waiting to be seen. It was now or never.
Without asking permission, he pushed off Lady Cordelia’s hat. It flew off her head at rapid speed. She put her hands to her mouth and gasped. Ambrose smiled at his own brilliance. Stopping the horses, he told her to wait as he ran after the hat. Because he had stopped, the rest of the carriages behind him stopped to see what the commotion was about. By the time he returned her hat, they had the attention of most of Hyde Park.
“I believe this belongs to you?” he said, offering the hat back to the lady. He thought he saw her roll her eyes but must have been mistaken, for a wallflower would never roll her eyes at him of all people!
He helped her out of the carriage and made a grand show of aiding her in replacing her hat. Lady Cordelia’s face was as red as a tomato. Ambrose couldn’t help but grin as he finally tied the ribbons under her chin, then without thought rested his two fingers beneath it to examine her face.
“Stunning,” he said without realizing he spoke out loud.
She stepped back as if he had just slapped her, and then began walking away. He was more shocked than embarrassed and could do nothing save follow her and try to figure out why he was losing control over his own speech in her presence.
“I still want to know,” she said, stopping by the nearest tree.
“What is that? Oh, yes. I believe you asked why, and then I insulted your imagination. That about catches us up doesn’t it?” He rested his lean body against the tree and folded his arms across his chest.
She nodded, gazing out over the park scenery.
“Right then, let me speak plainly. I want to be your friend. It seems to be something you lack. My desire is to have others see you as I see you now.”
She lifted her eyes towards his. They were crystal clear, a beautiful blue. The type of blue a man could wish to drown in. Ambrose found the rest of the park fading away as his focus continued to be so heavily drawn to her face that he forgot all else. A small nose and high cheekbones framed perfect porcelain skin. His eyes trained on a petite dimple on the right side of her mouth. He found himself leaning towards her.
Shakily, she jerked away and after a long silence, she said, “I suppose you are right.”
“I am?” he asked, then corrected. “Of course I am.”