A Wedding In Springtime(39)

“Quite right, very nicely done,” said Grant, only now taking notice of the bonnet. Miss Talbot was right; it was a shabby thing. “Shall we press on?”

“Yes, let’s. I have a guidebook here in my reticule.” To his horror, she pulled out a red bound volume of The Picture of London: A Correct Guide to All Curiosities, Amusements, Exhibitions, Public Establishments, and Remarkable Objects in and near London.

“How… helpful.” If anyone saw him leading around a debutante holding a guidebook, his reputation would be in tatters. “No need for that, though. I can serve as guide. Here now, put that thing away. You have me to guide you.”

Genie complied, but after receiving inadequate answers to her questions about the park, its management, the notable sights, she whipped out the handy guide once more. “It says the ordnance is decorated with several Egyptian devices and is ‘done in great taste.’”

Fortunately, the uncertain weather kept many Londoners away and Grant was grateful not to meet any intimates along the path. They walked along the canal lined with lime trees until they reached the ordnance, where Genie was properly impressed, then ventured into the trees of the wooded park.

“This is lovely. I am glad to see it!” Genie strolled about, her eyes shining with delight.

“It is lovely indeed.” But Grant was looking only at Genie.

“Oh dear.” Genie looked up at the darkening sky. “I do believe it is starting to rain.”

“Let us hurry back to the coach.” Grant offered his arm and walked back at a faster pace, with an eye to his polished Hessian boots. His enjoyment of Genie’s company did not extend to a disregard of his boots. If he returned with them ruined, his valet might weep, poor man.

The weather was indeed unstable, and the few raindrops were soon joined by others, until throngs of raindrops plagued them from above. The rain turned into a deluge, and Grant found it necessary to seek shelter or face death by drowning. He took Genie’s hand, and they both ran along the path. He expected complaint, as he would get from any finely bred London female, but Genie had been raised in the country and was made of sterner stuff. She merely smiled and ran along with him.

Finding a large willow tree, he ducked under the branches, pulling Genie next to him. The space was crowded with multiple branches, forcing Grant to pull her close. This was a disaster, stuck with a debutante under a tree in the torrential rain with his boots surely ruined.

Far from seeing the horror of the situation, Genie’s eyes were dancing. She screwed up her mouth, trying not to smile.

“My boots are ruined,” said Grant, stating his most pressing concern.

Genie began to laugh.

“I see you have no regard for my boots!”

“I do apologize!” said Genie between giggles. “But here we are stuck under a tree and all you can think of is your boots?”

“You would too if you knew how much they cost.”

“Yes, indeed. I did not realize they were so dear. I am sure my bonnet is quite ruined too.”

It was no great loss, but Grant said nothing. Despite the chill, he was suddenly quite warm. Genie stood next to him, close, inches away. He could touch her merely by shifting his feet. He would not, of course, but he wanted to. When was the last time he had been so attracted to a debutante of all things? When had he last been attracted to anyone this way?

Genie started to shiver, standing still in the cold. He guessed her long pelisse was borrowed from Louisa, since it was fashionable in style, but it was also made of muslin and not intended for inclement weather.

Grant put his hands on her delicate shoulders and gave them a gentle rub. “You are soaked, poor thing. Here, take my coat.”

“No, no, I couldn’t. You would be too cold.”

No, he wouldn’t. He was not cold at all. He was practically sweating he was so hot. He unbuttoned his coat, but Genie shook her head.

“Here, we can both be warm.” He opened his coat and wrapped it around her, drawing her to him.

“I do not think… is this proper?” Genie put her hands against his chest but leaned close to allow him to wrap his coat around her.

“No, not proper I fear,” confessed Grant. He was truthful, even if he was a cad. Genie felt delicious. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her closer, reveling in her small frame, her gentle curves. She laid her cheek on his chest and he had to stifle a sigh. This was what he wanted. He wished he could stay under the tree forever, boots be damned.