It took less than an hour before they were in Lord Camford’s carriage. Her maid, Nell, sat on the rumble, and they began driving towards Kensington Gardens. The day was bright and sunny, though there was a slight chill in the spring air. The trees lining the gardens were still bare, though a few brave buds were starting to form.
All the while, Regina was very aware of Lord Camford’s presence beside her. Although he sat on his side of the phaeton, sometimes his thigh inadvertently bumped against hers. It was disconcerting to feel the rush of embarrassment, and she didn’t know what to think of it. Despite the accidental touch, he made no move to cross the boundary. He knew it made her uncomfortable, and she was grateful that he understood.
After a time, she grew distracted by the dogs. They licked at each other and tried to play, whimpering with their heads down and their tails in the air. She started to relax, laughing as they frolicked amid her skirts.
‘We should stop soon, in case they get overexcited,’ Lord Camford suggested. ‘I wouldn’t want them to soil your gown.’
She nodded in agreement. ‘I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. They are excited, after all.’ When the pug rolled on to his back, she stifled a laugh.
The viscount smiled back, but it wasn’t a casual smile between friends. No, it was the smile of a man who liked her a great deal. She sensed it in the warmth of his eyes, and the underlying instinct that if she softened towards him, he would indeed want more from her. This carriage ride might not be a good idea, in light of that.
But even more concerning was that she didn’t find it easy to freeze out his interest in the same way she could with other gentlemen. Most of the time, she could tell them no, or she could ignore them, and they would go away.
Lord Camford was different. When she tried to refuse him, he somehow managed to talk her into spending time with him. Even now, she was so very aware of how handsome he was. His dark blond hair had a rakish appearance from the wind. His broad shoulders filled up his coat, and he was a tall man. Despite his clothing, she sensed a wildness beneath it all. Perhaps it was his Highlander heritage. Her instincts warned that this proper English viscount was not as proper as she’d imagined.
There was far more to Dalton St George than anyone could guess. It unnerved her to realise that she was not entirely immune to his charm. Right now, she needed to strengthen the invisible walls around her emotions, ensuring that he understood there could never be anything between them.
She decided to be blunt. ‘What are you doing, Lord Camford? Why did you arrange this carriage ride and the dogs?’
He paused a moment. ‘Would you consider me a friend, Lady Regina?’
‘I’m not certain,’ she answered honestly. ‘I am suspicious of your intentions, to be frank.’
The viscount drew the horses to a stop, pulling lightly on the reins. His face turned serious, and he said, ‘If we are being frank, then I will tell you that I am worried about you. You’ve changed a great deal from the girl I once knew.’ He gentled his voice. ‘Is everything all right?’
No, she would never answer that question. Her heartbeat quickened, and she couldn’t bring herself to speak a single word.
‘I know that you’ve been unhappy,’ he continued. ‘You’ve not smiled in years, it seems.’
Because she didn’t have a reason to smile. It felt as if her future had been stolen from her. And though she understood that he was concerned, she could never let down her guard. Even when she was with Lord Camford, whom she trusted, her nerves betrayed her. She tensed, always uneasy of his intentions, though he had never done anything wrong.
‘My father has been ill,’ she said at last, fumbling for an excuse. ‘It has been difficult for our family.’
He nodded in understanding, though his eyes seemed to distrust her answer. ‘I thought the dogs might make you smile,’ he continued. ‘You need a reason to smile, Lady Regina.’
His eyes warmed, and she felt her shyness returning. Though she knew he would never trespass on their friendship, she recognised the glimmer of interest. But even if she were not betrothed, a man like Lord Camford ought to have an outgoing, friendly young woman who would welcome him into her heart and give him an heir. Not someone broken, like her.
‘I’ve made you uncomfortable, and that was not my intention,’ he said lightly. ‘Shall we take these two beasts for a walk?’
The pug had fallen asleep on her lap and Regina picked him up, cuddling him close. The animal continued to snooze while Lord Camford brought the foxhound down to the pathway. The hound began sniffing at the trail, and Regina smiled at his antics.
‘Yours seems to be more awake than mine.’ She walked with the sleeping pug, hardly caring about his weight. The innocent trust of the animal warmed her heart.
‘He’s a braw lad.’ He exaggerated a brogue while keeping a firm grip on the lead. She’d noticed over the years that he sometimes slipped into his mother’s ancestry from time to time. Though his father was English, Lord Camford seemed to enjoy behaving with a bit of Scottish flair.
The foxhound spied a butterfly and tried to chase it. Lord Camford allowed the dog to explore, but he kept his pace slow while they walked.
‘I’ve heard that Locharr will arrive any day now,’ Lord Camford said.
She nodded, though the thought filled her with dread. Not because she disliked the laird, but it was the idea of an impending betrothal. More than anything, she wanted to refuse.
And yet, her father was set upon the match and would brook no refusal. Every time she spoke of her reluctance,
