getting sunburned?”
“I do.”
“Then why not find a man who’s willing to come along?”
***
Patrick meant to stop by sooner. He had every intention of calling on Linley, but between meetings with his solicitors and visits to Hereford House, he never found the time.
The butler showed him into the drawing room. At the announcement of his name, both Linley and Mrs. Hastings nearly jumped out of their stockings.
Patrick saw the tension coiled in Linley’s body. She looked to be wound tighter than a bowstring. “I am interrupting,” he said. “I should come back.”
“No,” Berenice said. “You’ve come at just the right time.”
He could see tears burning behind Linley’s eyes. She looked like a girl desperately in need of a friend. “Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked. “We could take a turn around the garden.”
Linley nodded, brushing past Berenice without so much as a word.
At the pavement, they waited for a motorcar to pass, and then crossed the street.
“Were you quarreling with Mrs. Hastings?” Patrick asked.
“Cousin Berenice and I do not get along,” Linley used her key to open iron gate that led to the private garden in Bedford Square. “She makes me glad I never had a mother.”
“That’s taking it a bit far.”
“I don’t care!” She kicked at a pigeon pecking the grass in front of her. “You should hear the things she says to me.”
Patrick led her to a bench in the shade. “Here, let’s sit down before you trample any more wildlife.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Linley said, sitting down beside him. “And you have to be completely honest.”
“All right.”
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
Without batting an eye, he answered. “Of course I do.”
“You don’t mean it,” Linley said, turning away from him.
Patrick took her chin in his hand and turned her face to meet his. “I do,” he said. “All this pretty brown hair, and your big brown eyes, and that cute little nose. I think you are a very pretty girl.”
She shook her head. “I saw the way you ogled those sculptures the other day—Venus and Clytie with their big breasts and hips. How can you possibly think I’m pretty? I have spotty skin and a flat chest!”
“How could I not look at them with their bodies put out on display? I’m sure if I saw you without your clothes on, I’d ogle you, too.” When Linley smiled, he continued, “Don’t compare yourself to works of art, and whatever you do, for God’s sake, do not compare yourself to girls like Gaynor Robeson.”
“But she is so very pretty…”
“Pretty, yes. All exterior and no substance. Girls like her are ten a penny. Everything she knows, she was taught—how to walk, how to talk, how to turn her head just so to look at a chap as if he were the only man in the room. Everything she is comes straight out of a fashion plate. She may as well clip it out and paste it to her chest every morning.”
Linley laughed.
“But you are an individual,” Patrick continued. “From the moment I saw you I knew I’d never meet anyone like you again. And that is something Gaynor will never have.”
“Did you know she never called on me after the ball?”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Why?” she asked. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Yes, I’m afraid you did.”
“Our private conversation? The one she interrupted?”
Patrick nodded. “Poor little Linley, failure of the season. Please tell me you have not been cooped up in the house all week.” When she didn’t answer, he added. “I’m sorry I waited so long to call on you. I’ve thought about you every day.”
Linley swallowed. “You have?”
“Yes. I have.” He scooted closer to her on the bench. “A girl as pretty as you should have callers ‘round the clock. How will I ever make it up to you?”
She leaned in very close to him and whispered, “You could start by kissing me.”
“That won’t win you any friends in London,” Patrick said,
“I do.”
“Then why not find a man who’s willing to come along?”
***
Patrick meant to stop by sooner. He had every intention of calling on Linley, but between meetings with his solicitors and visits to Hereford House, he never found the time.
The butler showed him into the drawing room. At the announcement of his name, both Linley and Mrs. Hastings nearly jumped out of their stockings.
Patrick saw the tension coiled in Linley’s body. She looked to be wound tighter than a bowstring. “I am interrupting,” he said. “I should come back.”
“No,” Berenice said. “You’ve come at just the right time.”
He could see tears burning behind Linley’s eyes. She looked like a girl desperately in need of a friend. “Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked. “We could take a turn around the garden.”
Linley nodded, brushing past Berenice without so much as a word.
At the pavement, they waited for a motorcar to pass, and then crossed the street.
“Were you quarreling with Mrs. Hastings?” Patrick asked.
“Cousin Berenice and I do not get along,” Linley used her key to open iron gate that led to the private garden in Bedford Square. “She makes me glad I never had a mother.”
“That’s taking it a bit far.”
“I don’t care!” She kicked at a pigeon pecking the grass in front of her. “You should hear the things she says to me.”
Patrick led her to a bench in the shade. “Here, let’s sit down before you trample any more wildlife.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Linley said, sitting down beside him. “And you have to be completely honest.”
“All right.”
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
Without batting an eye, he answered. “Of course I do.”
“You don’t mean it,” Linley said, turning away from him.
Patrick took her chin in his hand and turned her face to meet his. “I do,” he said. “All this pretty brown hair, and your big brown eyes, and that cute little nose. I think you are a very pretty girl.”
She shook her head. “I saw the way you ogled those sculptures the other day—Venus and Clytie with their big breasts and hips. How can you possibly think I’m pretty? I have spotty skin and a flat chest!”
“How could I not look at them with their bodies put out on display? I’m sure if I saw you without your clothes on, I’d ogle you, too.” When Linley smiled, he continued, “Don’t compare yourself to works of art, and whatever you do, for God’s sake, do not compare yourself to girls like Gaynor Robeson.”
“But she is so very pretty…”
“Pretty, yes. All exterior and no substance. Girls like her are ten a penny. Everything she knows, she was taught—how to walk, how to talk, how to turn her head just so to look at a chap as if he were the only man in the room. Everything she is comes straight out of a fashion plate. She may as well clip it out and paste it to her chest every morning.”
Linley laughed.
“But you are an individual,” Patrick continued. “From the moment I saw you I knew I’d never meet anyone like you again. And that is something Gaynor will never have.”
“Did you know she never called on me after the ball?”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Why?” she asked. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Yes, I’m afraid you did.”
“Our private conversation? The one she interrupted?”
Patrick nodded. “Poor little Linley, failure of the season. Please tell me you have not been cooped up in the house all week.” When she didn’t answer, he added. “I’m sorry I waited so long to call on you. I’ve thought about you every day.”
Linley swallowed. “You have?”
“Yes. I have.” He scooted closer to her on the bench. “A girl as pretty as you should have callers ‘round the clock. How will I ever make it up to you?”
She leaned in very close to him and whispered, “You could start by kissing me.”
“That won’t win you any friends in London,” Patrick said,
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