he urged her. “We could both go.”
She shook her head. “I haven’t any blades. Nor do you.”
“Leave that to me,” he told her as he took her hand and towed her toward a booth near the skaters. The red mitten now encased in his hand felt small, and oddly vulnerable.
“Really, I don’t think—” she protested.
“Miss Langley, you aren’t a duchess yet.”
“But I will be quite soon and then—”
“And when you are, you may find yourself looking out the windows of your gilded prison wishing you’d gone for one last turn around the ice with your improper footman.”
“I doubt—”
He held up his hand to stave off her protests, and by some miracle it worked. “Freedom, Miss Langley, has its advantages, and those ducal glories you long for will still be there tomorrow, but ice doesn’t last forever.”
She set her mouth in a stubborn line.
“Do you really want to spend the rest of your life without ever having skated again?”
“You sound like Tally,” she shot back, and he had to imagine she wasn’t offering him a compliment. “She was going on and on just yesterday that we’ll both most likely end our days without ever being kiss—” Her eyes widened as she realized what she’d nearly confessed.
“Without ever being what?” he asked, bemused by the pink blush on her cheeks.
“Skating,” she told him, her lips pursing shut and her gaze turning back to the skaters.
“Then come along,” he coaxed. “Just a few turns. Besides, if your Miss Browne is right, no one of any consequence is down here and therefore your proper reputation is quite safe.”
“She is not my Miss Browne,” she shot back, her gaze on a couple who, hand in hand, were making an elegant and graceful circle around the ice. “Oh, it does look fun, and I suppose—”
He didn’t give her a chance to reconsider. “Then skating it is.” And he towed her toward the booth where a man stood hawking blades to passersby. This was madness, but he couldn’t resist. Most likely she was right, duchesses and dukes weren’t likely to be found skating. So they might both take this opportunity while they had the chance. He owed her that much. Before he took his place as Hollindrake and ruined all her expectations by crying off.
Besides, there were two other eligible dukes out there, and who knew how they felt about skating.
“Mr. Thatcher, I haven’t any money—”
“Leave that to me, Miss Langley.” And to his surprise, she did.
“Oh, look, a magic show!” Tally exclaimed. “Let’s watch—for he has a monkey as well!”
She drew Aunt Minty along with her, while Pippin hung back, her gaze still fixed on the chestnut vendor across the way. Her stomach growled in protest as it had been a good three hours since they’d eaten their breakfast and she was well past her mid-morning tea and scones. “I’ll be right back,” Pippin told her cousin.
“Don’t eat them all,” Tally teased as she used Aunt Minty’s age and sudden infirmity to gain them a front row vantage point from which to watch the man and his animal do tricks.
Absently, Pippin made her way through the crowd—Felicity was nowhere to be seen. But it was doubtful she was seeking out any amusements, so intent was her cousin on remaining a proper miss until she married her duke. And Tally…well, Tally was more concerned about having fun at the moment, with little thought of her future.
And Pippin, well, she was stuck between them—conscious enough of her position as the Earl of Stanbrook’s daughter to keep her properly subdued, but dreaming of a love that couldsweep her away from everything that was so very tonnish.
With a sigh, she stopped before the chestnut vendor. “One bag,” she said as she dug into her reticule to find the coin she had tucked into the bottom.
“Is that all you want, little Circe?”
Those few words sent shivers down her spine, gooseflesh along her limbs.
Circe ? Only one man had ever called her
She shook her head. “I haven’t any blades. Nor do you.”
“Leave that to me,” he told her as he took her hand and towed her toward a booth near the skaters. The red mitten now encased in his hand felt small, and oddly vulnerable.
“Really, I don’t think—” she protested.
“Miss Langley, you aren’t a duchess yet.”
“But I will be quite soon and then—”
“And when you are, you may find yourself looking out the windows of your gilded prison wishing you’d gone for one last turn around the ice with your improper footman.”
“I doubt—”
He held up his hand to stave off her protests, and by some miracle it worked. “Freedom, Miss Langley, has its advantages, and those ducal glories you long for will still be there tomorrow, but ice doesn’t last forever.”
She set her mouth in a stubborn line.
“Do you really want to spend the rest of your life without ever having skated again?”
“You sound like Tally,” she shot back, and he had to imagine she wasn’t offering him a compliment. “She was going on and on just yesterday that we’ll both most likely end our days without ever being kiss—” Her eyes widened as she realized what she’d nearly confessed.
“Without ever being what?” he asked, bemused by the pink blush on her cheeks.
“Skating,” she told him, her lips pursing shut and her gaze turning back to the skaters.
“Then come along,” he coaxed. “Just a few turns. Besides, if your Miss Browne is right, no one of any consequence is down here and therefore your proper reputation is quite safe.”
“She is not my Miss Browne,” she shot back, her gaze on a couple who, hand in hand, were making an elegant and graceful circle around the ice. “Oh, it does look fun, and I suppose—”
He didn’t give her a chance to reconsider. “Then skating it is.” And he towed her toward the booth where a man stood hawking blades to passersby. This was madness, but he couldn’t resist. Most likely she was right, duchesses and dukes weren’t likely to be found skating. So they might both take this opportunity while they had the chance. He owed her that much. Before he took his place as Hollindrake and ruined all her expectations by crying off.
Besides, there were two other eligible dukes out there, and who knew how they felt about skating.
“Mr. Thatcher, I haven’t any money—”
“Leave that to me, Miss Langley.” And to his surprise, she did.
“Oh, look, a magic show!” Tally exclaimed. “Let’s watch—for he has a monkey as well!”
She drew Aunt Minty along with her, while Pippin hung back, her gaze still fixed on the chestnut vendor across the way. Her stomach growled in protest as it had been a good three hours since they’d eaten their breakfast and she was well past her mid-morning tea and scones. “I’ll be right back,” Pippin told her cousin.
“Don’t eat them all,” Tally teased as she used Aunt Minty’s age and sudden infirmity to gain them a front row vantage point from which to watch the man and his animal do tricks.
Absently, Pippin made her way through the crowd—Felicity was nowhere to be seen. But it was doubtful she was seeking out any amusements, so intent was her cousin on remaining a proper miss until she married her duke. And Tally…well, Tally was more concerned about having fun at the moment, with little thought of her future.
And Pippin, well, she was stuck between them—conscious enough of her position as the Earl of Stanbrook’s daughter to keep her properly subdued, but dreaming of a love that couldsweep her away from everything that was so very tonnish.
With a sigh, she stopped before the chestnut vendor. “One bag,” she said as she dug into her reticule to find the coin she had tucked into the bottom.
“Is that all you want, little Circe?”
Those few words sent shivers down her spine, gooseflesh along her limbs.
Circe ? Only one man had ever called her
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