Perhaps this lady’s late husband was part of the cause for that, she thought wryly.
“And how long will you be in Town?” she asked of Prim.
“Och, only a fortnight, sad tae say,” she replied in a reasonably impressive Scottish brogue.
Jacob arched an eyebrow and gave a slight nod of approval, and she tried not to feel too pleased by that.
“Ah! Splendid! Well, perhaps you can join us in the park tomorrow. Or for afternoon tea? You needn’t wait until next week’s dinner, m’dear.”
She spoke as though it were agreed upon already that she and Jacob would attend her dinner party.
“We will have to verify our calendar, my lady. My secretary has our schedule, but I think we already have a prior commitment.” He squeezed Prim’s shoulder. “My cousin is in high demand during her stay.”
He really was an exceptional liar.
“How disappointing.” Lady Kettering pouted. It was not a good look.
“Aye, verra disappointing,” Primrose chimed, getting into the spirit of their ruse.
“Now if you will pardon us. We’ve lost one of our friends and we must locate her,” Jacob quickly supplied.
“Oh dear.” Lady Kettering scanned the grounds. “You best find her . . . you wouldn’t want her to be dragged off onto one of the dark walks.” She shared a meaningful look with her two cohorts, who each nodded grimly back. “We’ve heard many a tale of virtues lost there.”
“Aye.” One of the young men nodded. “I’ve heard of souls lost on the dark walks that have yet to surface.”
Prim blinked. They had never surfaced? Were the dark walks some manner of vortex in to which one disappeared, never to emerge again? That was rather undesirable for a pleasure garden.
“Sound advice. We best hasten,” Jacob intoned with a nod. “Good even’.”
He took Prim’s elbow once again, guiding her from the crowd gathered to watch the skilled acrobats.
“Well.” Prim slid him a considering glance. “Lady Kettering. She seemed quite . . .”
“The dragon? Her children with the earl never reached adulthood and it’s rumored she ate her young.”
Primrose giggled even though she knew she should not. “You’re awful.”
He glanced down at her, that attractive face of his stoic until he caught sight of her face. Then he smiled. “I know.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” she reprimanded.
“Yes,” he agreed. “It is. I’m incorrigible . . . and Lady Kettering is someone I can’t abide for longer than two sentences.”
“That was much longer than two sentences. You managed.”
“Indeed not. I’m most harmed, but I shall endeavor to recover.”
They fell to silence as they left the acrobats behind.
The crowd thinned out as they walked deeper into the Gardens. The buildings and structures became fewer as well. Soon tall trees hemmed them in on either side of the lamp-lit row.
The quiet grew oppressive, almost suffocating.
“So . . .” She cleared her throat, continuing to scrutinize people they passed, hoping for a glimpse of Olympia. “Fiona? Scotland?”
He chuckled. “It was the first thing that popped in my mind.”
His chuckle was a wonderful sound. Warm and as comforting as a sip of hot chocolate on a chilly morning.
“Will you go to her dinner party next week?”
“Oh no.” He shook his head firmly. “That’s not even in the realm of possibility.”
“Well, that was quite emphatic of you.”
“I am quite emphatic on the matter. Attending ton parties does not rank high in my priorities.”
“You’re fortunate you have a choice.” She was quick to retort before she could think better of it.
She felt his gaze, long and intense, on the side of her face. She stared straight ahead, refusing to let him see her features, fearful of what he might glimpse there.
“I’ve never thought of it like that before.”
Of course he hadn’t. When one had freedoms, one never considered what life would be like without them.
One didn’t have to.
“So do you even fish?” she asked in a brighter tone, forcing levity back between them.
“On occasion. I enjoy the outdoors and sports. The Lake District is a favorite place of mine to visit. My mother, however, clings to this excuse, that I am away fishing, for whenever I am not present at events. I suppose she feels the need to provide an explanation.” He shrugged.
“I take it that is often? That you are not present?”
He shrugged. “Often enough. I have my own pursuits.”
She pursed her lips. He had his own pursuits—things aplenty to occupy him whilst she was forced to stay home. She blew out a disgusted breath. It shouldn’t irk her, but it did.
“So what are these pursuits?” She