Trehmont pulled back on the reins and stopped the curricle. "Shall we walk for a spell?"
Perhaps she could spook the horses in hopes that he would be more concerned for his curricle than her?
He offered his hand. Why the devil wasn't he wearing gloves anyway? She could practically feel the sweat from his hand seep into her kid gloves. Disgusting.
"Now, where were we?" Trehmont made a grand show of laughing, as if the topic of their previous conversation had been amusing or interesting. Unfortunately Hyde Park was anything but vacant. It seemed every fashionable soul was out and about, wanting to be seen.
Just her luck, she was to be seen with the slimiest of them all.
"Trehmont, do tell me, has this war been difficult for you? All things considering?"
Trehmont gritted his teeth and looked away from her. "I am not sure I gain your meaning, my lady?"
"You're half French," she stated rather boldly.
He stopped in his tracks and after several seconds of staring at the grass looked up to meet her gaze. "My lady, the only French traits I possess are those of style and passion, I assure you."
Which truly wasn't all that assuring, considering his present style. A blue waistcoat with yellow buttons was offset with a wildly tied orange cravat.
And if his clothing wasn't hint enough, when he said passion and smiled, she noticed a piece of cabbage stuck in his teeth.
Right. If he was innocent, Hunter was a virgin.
"Now, where were we?" Trehmont tucked her arm under his and patted it, as if she were a child he had just put in her place.
"We were discussing your French blood. I am so relieved, my lord, that you are not the type to align yourself with the French while living in the country fighting for your freedom." If he was guilty, he would at least flinch beneath her statement.
"But of course," Trehmont said smoothly. "I do owe England everything. Besides, my mother was English."
"Interesting. I—"
"Lady Gwendolyn, fancy seeing you here." Hunter strolled up to them with a grim expression on his face. His eyes flickered to Trehmont's hand on Gwen's. If possible, his expression darkened even more.
"Is it, though?" Gwen said through clenched teeth.
"Is what?" Hunter's eyes were still trained on Trehmont's hand.
"Fancy?"
"Whose fancy?" Hunter's head snapped up.
Gwen made it a point to glare at him. Perhaps he could read her body language and know he was not welcome.
"Might I join you two for a walk?"
Or not.
"Of course," Trehmont answered as he pulled Gwen closer to his side.
Hunter, clearly not getting the hint, fell into step beside them. "By the by, Trehmont, you will never guess what I heard on my way over here."
"Hmm." Trehmont nodded to a passing couple. "And what is that?"
"You own a small estate outside of Bath, do you not?"
Trehmont scowled. "Not that it is any business of yours, but I own several properties, as I said the day before." This he directed at Gwen. "Rumors of my ruin are grossly exaggerated. I do quite well."
"Oh, dear." Hunter stopped walking. "Then perhaps you should sit for a spell."
"Sit?" Trehmont looked at Hunter as if he were going mad. "Why the devil would I sit?"
"Your property. It seems there has been a fire, and well…" Hunter pulled out a handkerchief and wiped beneath his eyes. "Everything is lost."
Trehmont paled. "Everything, you say?"
Hunter nodded. "Everything. But never fear! For you said so yourself. You have plenty of property! Come into money, have you?"
Trehmont cursed a blue streak, threw his beaver hat to the ground, and began stomping wildly around it.
Gwen leaned in toward Hunter. "Does he believe his hat is on fire, as well?"
Trehmont yelled again and stomped, cursing as he did so.
"Perhaps he's finally gone mad," Hunter observed quietly.
"All of my…" Trehmont paused.
"Possessions?" Hunter offered. "You mean possessions, do you not? But why, if you have so much property, would you choose to store all your valuables at such a location?"
Trehmont's face turned red. "I do not answer to you! Good day!"
"They will kill him in prison." Hunter sighed and looked at the poor beaver hat. "Silly, but I feel sorrier for the hat."
"Prison?" Gwen nearly shouted.
"Hats are too beautiful not to have feelings, don't you agree, Red? I'd expect you to slap me if I ever treated my things in such a fashion."
"Prison?" Gwen said again, this time nearer to Hunter's ear. Clearly he was having trouble hearing.
"Hats are quite expensive. Did you know that just last week, when I was on my way to Hoby's to buy some new boots, I—"
"Hunter!" Gwen grabbed his arm and pinched. "What the devil is wrong with you? Stop spouting nonsense about hats. Why is Trehmont going to prison?"
"Oh. That." Hunter smiled and jerked his arm away, careful to smooth down the nonexistent wrinkles on his perfect jacket. "Seems the man has been smuggling for the past few years. But what I find interesting is that the War Office has known all along. They've used his smuggling business as a front to transfer messages back and forth during the war. Seems the money wasn't enough for Trehmont, and he started his own side business. I do wonder what the War Office will think of that."
"Smuggling?"
"Yes. And gaining quite a profit."
"How did you know?"
"I read minds," Hunter stated dryly.
"Can you read mine now?" Gwen purposefully thought of pushing Hunter into the river.
"Death." He choked and then laughed. "See, I told you I could read minds."
"Aghh!" Gwen stomped her foot and lunged for him.
He pulled her into a tight embrace and whispered in her ear, "Have a care, my dear, we are in public and we cannot look too familiar."
"Then release me."
Hunter sighed but did not relinquish his grip. "If I release you now, it will look like a lover's quarrel."
"What differences does now or five minutes make?"
Hunter whispered into her ear, his breath tickling the delicate flesh around her neck. "A lover's embrace, my dear. It must look like we are engaging in something forbidden."
"I am ruined already. The only men who are interested are ones who smuggle and apparently keep food saved in their teeth."