A Waltz in the Park Read Online Free Page B

to shut off that line of thought.  “Why did you say that Lady Rosamond cannot afford to interact with me?  It’s an odd choice of words.”
    She blinked.  Suddenly she looked around, peering past him to gauge how far her party had gone without her.  “Odd, perhaps, but accurate.”  She lifted a shoulder.  “It’s not really my place to speak of it.”  She glanced askance at him. “What was it that you wished with her, sir?”
    “Just a few words.   I won’t go into it now, it’s quite a long story.”
    She glanced at him with a curious look of yearning.  “And one that contains pain, pathos and a bit of adventure, I’d wager, too.”
    “What makes you say that?”
    “All the best stories do.  All you need now is a happy ending.”  Her distracted gaze wandered south again.  “What color would you call that waistcoat?”
    Surprised, he glanced down.  “I don’t know.”  He lifted a shoulder.  “The color of eggplant?”
    “Eggplant . . . Yes, that is a good word.”  She shaped it with her mouth.  Or perhaps, plum?”  Shaking her head, she looked up and continued.  “Perhaps you and my cousin can exchange stories then, when you see her at the ball.”
      “When?” he asked with irony.  “After that reception, I’d say the more likely choice of words would be if I see her at the ball.”
    She bit her lip.  “You might be correct, at that.”  She raised a delicate brow at him.  “But something tells me that would not be the end of it.  I feel sure that you are more stubborn than Cousin Rosamond.”
    She looked ahead again and took a step away.
    “Yes, hurry on.”  He waved a hand.  “You are right.  I am stubborn.  Don’t worry,” he added ironically.  “We will meet and talk again.”
    She stopped and looked over her shoulder at him.  “Don’t you see?  I very likely should worry about that.  But I don’t.” 
    With that cryptic statement, she turned and hurried away.  Vickers watched until he saw her rejoin the trailing end of Lady Rosamond’s party—without the countess ever knowing she’d been gone.
    Thoughtful, he turned away—only to break out a real smile at the sight of Hestia Wright drawing close in her small, open carriage.
    “Hestia!  You’re back!”
    “Indeed.”  She returned his smile, but there was something . . . reserved . . . worried, perhaps . . . there too.  “Would you care for a ride home?”
    “I would, thank you.”  He climbed up and settled in the opposite seat.  “And your expertise, too.  Tell me everything you know about the Countess of Mitford.”  He settled in, throwing an arm across the back of the seat and making himself comfortable.  “And her cousin.”
    ***
     
    Her first slip.
    Addy listened to Rosamond fuss and fume and thanked Providence that Great-Aunt Delia had not accompanied them to the park.  She’d done her best to follow the older woman’s advice.  She’d spent these last weeks acting as refined as any properly well bred girl of the ton .  She’d been everything quiet, prim and proper.
    Until today.
    A few minutes in Mr. Vickers’ company and she’d reverted back to her old ways.  Oh, she’d managed to hide all the excited flutterings he stirred up, and to quell the dozens of questions she was dying to ask.  Where had he been these last weeks?  Why did he look so solemn?  How had he come by that tiny scar above the arch of his brow?  She’d managed to swallow them all—but she’d acted too forthright, too outspoken, nonetheless.
    “I vow, what is the good of being a widow if I still must act as if I were restrained by a leg shackle,” Rosamond fretted.  The group of her friends had dispersed and the two of them were now strolling home to  Cavendish Square.  “I know I promised strict propriety, but it’s growing tiresome.”
    Addy’s mouth quirked.  “It hasn’t done you any harm.  The ton has applauded the mending of your ways for the sake of your