a small number of people strolling on the marked paths, enjoying the pleasant spring weather. Dorothea turned her head and immediately she spied a most familiar group.
“I see Lady Meredith and her daughters have arrived,” Dorothea said, answering Lady Meredith’s wave with one of her own.
“Shall we join them?” the major asked.
“As long as we remain in view, we can set our picnic in a separate location,” Dorothea replied.
The major glanced at the chaos surrounding the marchioness, with the many blankets, toys, servants, and boisterous children, and turned the carriage in the opposite direction.
Dorothea smiled prettily at him as he assisted her down from the vehicle. They chose a shady spot beneath a majestic chestnut tree. With great aplomb, the major spread a blanket on the grass, then settled her comfortably upon it.
He opened the straw basket and began rooting around inside. “I asked my batman to procure our lunch from the tavern down the street from my lodgings. I hope you find it to your liking, Miss Ellingham.”
“Your batman,” Dorothea teased. “Do you not employ a proper valet?”
The major’s brows knit together. “You’re right, since I am no longer in the military, I should now call him my valet. Though honestly, he is more a jack-of-all-trades and in truth a loyal friend. Parker served with me in the Peninsula and later fought by my side at Waterloo. ’Tis difficult to relegate a man to an inferior position after he has saved your life.”
“Were you in the army a long time?”
“Since I was fifteen. I joined as a regular foot soldier. It took many years and a minor bequest from a distant relation before I was able to purchase my commission.”
“Ah, so there was no rich father to smooth the way?” she asked with a grin.
He looked momentarily startled, then suddenly grew very still. “No father at all, actually. At least not one who would claim me.”
“Oh.” Dorothea had no idea what to say. She had never before met anyone who was so open and honest about such a sordid, personal fact.
“I’ve shocked you,” he said gravely. “Forgive me.”
Lowering his gaze, the major turned from her and hastily began to unpack the contents of the picnic basket. He placed a wedge of cheese, a crust of bread, and several red, ripe strawberries on a plate, then held it out to her.
“’Tis I who should apologize,” Dorothea said quietly, ashamed it had taken her so long to respond. The poor man. She had not meant to add to his discomfort by remaining silent for so long. She had simply not known what to say. Dorothea took the plate he offered and tried to smile.
He shrugged his shoulders, as though it did not matter, but Dorothea was not fooled. His base birth had obviously had a profound impact on his life, as one would expect.
“Many individuals crumble under adversity,” she continued in a soft voice. “Yet you have obviously thrived. I find that most commendable.”
The major gazed off in the distance. “You are a very kind woman, Miss Ellingham, but there is no need to pretend. I know my limitations are not merely due to the circumstances of my birth. I am not elegant or polished like these other fine London gentlemen. I’m a soldier, far better suited to lead a cavalry charge against the French than conversing in polite company.”
“For a man who claims to have no social graces, you are doing a superb job of charming me, sir.” He turned to face her and Dorothea’s gaze locked with his. “And I freely confess to being a woman who prefers a natural, not a practiced, charm.”
His rough laugh was deep and filled with humor. “Your efforts to appease me are appreciated, yet I refuse to hide from the truth.”
“That you are charming? I agree it is foolish to try and hide that fact.”
“You are running circles around me, Miss Ellingham,” he replied with an easy grin.
“I believe you can hold your own very well, sir.” She took a bite of a strawberry, licking away a drop of the sweet juice from her lips. “Very well, indeed.”
The major leaned forward, his eyes warm with amusement. It was far too soon to even think about kissing him, yet she found herself wondering what it would be like. Pleasant, she was fairly certain, and perhaps something more?
A loud shout of laughter followed by a chorus of girlish giggles abruptly shattered the mood. Remembering they were out in a very public place, Dorothea shifted her position. Demurely, she set her back against the sturdy trunk of the tree, tucking the skirt of her blue muslin gown around her legs and ankles. The major stretched out on his side, his head propped on one elbow.
“It’s shocking to find such peace and tranquility so close to the center of London,” he said.
“You were not raised here?”
“No. I grew up in the north of England, near Wales.”
“Alone? With only your mother?” She lowered her chin as a hot blush rose to her cheeks. Curse her wicked, curious tongue. “I’m so sorry. I do not mean to pry.”
“It’s all right, Miss Ellingham. Truly.” He fiddled with the stem of a small wildflower growing near the trunk of the tree. “I never knew my father. My mother was governess to a wealthy, titled family. She fell in love with a neighboring nobleman. When she found herself carrying his child, he refused her any aid. Having no other choice, she returned home, where some of her relations still lived.”
“They took her into their home?” Dorothea asked, relieved to hear this poor woman had not been totally abandoned.
“In a manner of speaking. They gave her, and later me, a place to sleep, food to eat. Her family always thought her a disgrace and treated her accordingly. They tried to convince her to give me away, but she refused. Not surprisingly, they ignored me. But at least they were not so heartless as to throw us out on the street.”
“It must have been very difficult for you.”
“It was lonely, isolating,” the major admitted. “Not many families in the village encouraged an acquaintance with Emily Roddington’s baseborn son.”
Dorothea tried to imagine him as a young boy, enduring the taunts and isolation. “I am sorry.”
“There’s no need.” His eyes burned into her and she felt the intensity of his emotions. “It’s who I am, it’s what made me strong. Strong enough to survive the army. And Napoleon’s soldiers.”
Dorothea leaned harder against the tree trunk, ignoring the rough bark digging into her back. “I’m very glad that you survived. All of it.”
He tilted his head and she could see the muscle in his cheek working as he struggled to contain himself. An unexpected pressure on the side of her fingers caused her to look down. The major’s ungloved hand was resting close to hers on the picnic blanket.
A swirl of compassion invaded her heart. Carefully, casually, Dorothea inched her fingers closer. One more slow, deliberate move and they would be touching. She pushed her hand over the smooth surface of the blanket and then suddenly-
“I hope you have some saved food for us, Roddy,” a deep baritone voice implored. “I’m starved.”
“Atwood! Benton! What are you doing here?” The major snatched his hand away, leapt to his feet, and walked toward the approaching men.
Startled, Dorothea swung her head around and caught sight of two elegantly garbed gentlemen on horseback. Good heavens, she had heard correctly. It was the marquess. Fighting the edgy quiver of nerves the sight of Lord Atwood produced in her chest, Dorothea concentrated her attention on the other gentleman. The one who had spoken.
She recognized him from last night’s ball, though she could not recall his name.
“Ah, Miss Ellingham, I presume?” The stranger dismounted, then bowed. “I am Viscount Benton. I must say, it is a pure delight to at last meet the woman who has so thoroughly captured my friend’s attention.”
Dorothea’s head turned sharply toward Lord Atwood, fearing what he might have been saying about her. Yet Lord Atwood’s expression remained open, innocent. Lud, what a ninny she was being! The viscount had meant Major Roddington, not the marquess.
Rattled, Dorothea struggled to regain her composure. She lifted her head and stared in frustration at Lord
