The Only Honest Man in London by Connolly Lynne

Author:Connolly, Lynne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2022-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Gerald went to the park early the following morning with Cloud. He arrived just before six o’clock, and Viola came in just after. She approached him slowly, her pace necessitated by that damned horse. “I should come to your house with Cloud,” he said when she finally reached him. “You should not have to ride that beast.”

Her revelation that she hated the attention society was presently lavishing on them had taken him aback. He’d assumed she’d be thrilled, because wasn’t that what the sisters needed? But needed was not wanted. She had never given the appearance of a reticent woman, but the day they’d driven in the park, he’d paid more attention and seen it. Her smiles were practiced but empty. He knew what her true smiles looked like now, the way her eyes deepened in color, and her lips curved in just that way. Her society mask was almost as good as his.

A woman brought up in that way, dragged from place to place, made to live on her wits must, he’d imagined at first, be a reckless adventurer, but he was learning otherwise.

The opposite of his own situation. Born to privilege, brought up by loving parents, given everything he could ever need. His experience had blunted his senses to what she must have gone through. She had very little, and if she failed this Season, she would have little to look forward to. Thanks to her brother, she could buy an annuity and live her days in genteel poverty if her Season failed. But who would want that?

She patted her horse’s neck. “She does her best, poor thing. She’s probably tired of having different riders all the time. She must have difficulty accommodating to them.”

“I daresay,” he said. “Someone ruined her mouth, that’s for sure.”

He swung off his horse and came over to help her down. Touching Viola came as sweet relief. He hadn’t realized until now how much he’d missed their occasional touches. He rarely even touched her bare skin, but feeling her essence through her gloves or her clothes meant more to him than it did with any other woman.

He enjoyed her. He had no right to expect anything else, or to let her know the effect she had on him. They could remain friends.

But even as he thought it, he knew they shared something deeper than that. Impossible though it was, he could not control his emotions as much as he’d assumed he could.

Once seated, she took the reins without hesitation, and patted the gelding on his neck. He responded playfully, shaking his mane and whickering, as if pleased to see her. That made two of them.

“Let’s try the trot,” he said. He mounted his own horse and walked him by her side until she had settled herself. She did not demur. “I want to see how you rise. You go first. I’ll follow on and see how you do.”

She pulled a face. “I hate the trot. I never get the rhythm right.” Nevertheless, she gave the command, and set the horse into motion.

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