lady?
Once again, he postponed giving the question his undivided attention. Grif found himself in a position he had never experienced before. He was…well, the problem was that he did not know what he was. Fascinated? Yes. Amused? Most definitely. Enamored? Now that, he was unsure of.
He had been quietly confident for some time that there was no one woman on offer in Society that could ever come close to holding his interest for long. He had mistresses - many men did – but while that took care of his baser needs, finding somebody who did not bore him after prolonged acquaintance… that was an entirely different matter.
Many thought that Viscount Carlisle was far too particular, but he had a horror of finding himself trapped with a woman who had no interest in the world around her; no opinions, no sense of humor. To wake up every morning for the rest of his life and face the stultifying knowledge that he was bound to some creature he had no interest in…
The very concept made him shudder.
Marriage was a duty that must be performed, he was aware of that. Every year, he attended the balls and cast his eye over the Seasons offerings, but no matter how pretty the girl, it was difficult for them to think beyond what had been taught in the schoolroom. Not that he was after a bluestocking, oh, no; but he did want a wife who could keep up with him. Until he had met Nell Marriott, he had not believed that such a creature existed.
This really begged the question; what were his intentions towards the lady?
With a finesse born of long practice, Grif mentally sidestepped the question and focused instead on the continuing antics of the Marriott siblings. He had not thought that they would pursue their new career so soon, but he should have realized that they would forge ahead as quickly as possible. Both were bold – one could almost say fearless – and he allowed a certain admiration for their enterprise.
Even if he was not sure what he must do about it; not yet, anyway.
Leaving Brooks, he made his way to Hyde Park, wanting the opportunity to think without interruption. It was difficult to do that, surrounded as he was by friends and acquaintances. Actually, it was extraordinary how hard it was to be alone in London.
Usually, he would not dream of walking through the park; the fashion was to tool through in a curricle, displaying ones latest pair of matched horses. It had become a regular daily entertainment when the weather was clement, followed by dandies and the occasional brazen lady who enjoyed parading about, often with a small dog seated next to them. But on a grey, overcast October day, he could reasonably expect not to encounter many people.
Turning up the collar of his topcoat, he strode forward; lost in thought, head down against the wind that nipped maliciously at his cheeks. He was determined to clear his head and think rationally about… things. But before he could do so, he heard a voice - female, familiar and slightly amused - hailing him from nearby. With a sense of incredulity, he stopped abruptly and looked about.
Nell Marriott was walking towards him. Smiling at him.
For a moment, it seemed that the world had stopped; it seemed that everything stopped. As Nell walked towards him, the park, the sharp wind, even the piles of horse manure that the keepers had not disposed of yet, all disappeared. Instead, he saw a tall, slender woman dressed in a royal blue walking gown, a matching velvet jacket buttoned over it to keep out the cold, fair hair tucked beneath a jaunty hat on which two small red feathers – like a robin’s – were fetchingly attached to one side.
She was the last word in fashionable, an exotic creature that had appeared out of nowhere on a grey October day.
For the first time in all of his twenty - seven years, Grif felt his heart turn over in his chest and was momentarily speechless.
Nell came up to him, head tilted a little in enquiry, looking at him from eyes that were grave, but
Once again, he postponed giving the question his undivided attention. Grif found himself in a position he had never experienced before. He was…well, the problem was that he did not know what he was. Fascinated? Yes. Amused? Most definitely. Enamored? Now that, he was unsure of.
He had been quietly confident for some time that there was no one woman on offer in Society that could ever come close to holding his interest for long. He had mistresses - many men did – but while that took care of his baser needs, finding somebody who did not bore him after prolonged acquaintance… that was an entirely different matter.
Many thought that Viscount Carlisle was far too particular, but he had a horror of finding himself trapped with a woman who had no interest in the world around her; no opinions, no sense of humor. To wake up every morning for the rest of his life and face the stultifying knowledge that he was bound to some creature he had no interest in…
The very concept made him shudder.
Marriage was a duty that must be performed, he was aware of that. Every year, he attended the balls and cast his eye over the Seasons offerings, but no matter how pretty the girl, it was difficult for them to think beyond what had been taught in the schoolroom. Not that he was after a bluestocking, oh, no; but he did want a wife who could keep up with him. Until he had met Nell Marriott, he had not believed that such a creature existed.
This really begged the question; what were his intentions towards the lady?
With a finesse born of long practice, Grif mentally sidestepped the question and focused instead on the continuing antics of the Marriott siblings. He had not thought that they would pursue their new career so soon, but he should have realized that they would forge ahead as quickly as possible. Both were bold – one could almost say fearless – and he allowed a certain admiration for their enterprise.
Even if he was not sure what he must do about it; not yet, anyway.
Leaving Brooks, he made his way to Hyde Park, wanting the opportunity to think without interruption. It was difficult to do that, surrounded as he was by friends and acquaintances. Actually, it was extraordinary how hard it was to be alone in London.
Usually, he would not dream of walking through the park; the fashion was to tool through in a curricle, displaying ones latest pair of matched horses. It had become a regular daily entertainment when the weather was clement, followed by dandies and the occasional brazen lady who enjoyed parading about, often with a small dog seated next to them. But on a grey, overcast October day, he could reasonably expect not to encounter many people.
Turning up the collar of his topcoat, he strode forward; lost in thought, head down against the wind that nipped maliciously at his cheeks. He was determined to clear his head and think rationally about… things. But before he could do so, he heard a voice - female, familiar and slightly amused - hailing him from nearby. With a sense of incredulity, he stopped abruptly and looked about.
Nell Marriott was walking towards him. Smiling at him.
For a moment, it seemed that the world had stopped; it seemed that everything stopped. As Nell walked towards him, the park, the sharp wind, even the piles of horse manure that the keepers had not disposed of yet, all disappeared. Instead, he saw a tall, slender woman dressed in a royal blue walking gown, a matching velvet jacket buttoned over it to keep out the cold, fair hair tucked beneath a jaunty hat on which two small red feathers – like a robin’s – were fetchingly attached to one side.
She was the last word in fashionable, an exotic creature that had appeared out of nowhere on a grey October day.
For the first time in all of his twenty - seven years, Grif felt his heart turn over in his chest and was momentarily speechless.
Nell came up to him, head tilted a little in enquiry, looking at him from eyes that were grave, but
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