She abruptly ground her serviceable boots to a halt. “I’m not. Do you know why?”
“N—”
“Because I think it is silly,” she exclaimed. “I think there are a million and one things you would have been better served doing with those funds, Harris, than giving them to me so that I might play at a children’s game.” She cast a forlorn glance off to where the coins now lay buried somewhere in the sands of the Serpentine. “Because throwing coins into pretend w-wishing wells isn’t going to erase hurts or bring back people we l-loved and lost.” Her voice grew to a soft cry, and then she went quickly silent. Touching her fingers to her lips, she recoiled. Her chest rose and fell with the force of her emotion. And then she rushed off.
Harris stared after her. This time, he allowed her the distance and space she so clearly sought, even as he wished to rush after her and learn about those hurts she’d just hinted at.
What Julia had spoken of was a loss where love had factored in, and as such, he could not fathom the depth of suffering that came with that. He started toward her, moving at a slow pace.
As he did, he thought about how that “children’s game,” as she’d called it, would seem to a woman who’d spent most of her life, until now, going without the comforts and luxuries Harris himself had enjoyed.
He’d been so resentful about the path his life had taken. Until this moment, he’d also failed to properly consider just how self-absorbed he’d been. His pain hadn’t been anything compared to what Julia had spoken of.
Julia reached the curricle and wandered over to the horses.
As she lifted her hand to stroke one of the mount’s on her withers, Julia’s lips moved faintly as though she were speaking to the chestnut creature.
The mare lifted her enormous head, leaning into her caress.
As he made his slower approach, Harris continued to study her in a new way, through a new lens.
It was both eye-opening and humbling to come to the realization as late as he had just how fortunate he was to enjoy the luxuries he did.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
She went still. She pulled her shoulders back, but she didn’t turn to look at him.
Harris joined her beside the pair of chestnuts, leaving a handful of steps between him and Julia. He patted his hand against his thigh several times, and then, catching himself midway through another distracted slap, he stopped. “I did not consider how that might seem to you. The… wastefulness of it.” He slid closer. “Or the loss you may have known.”
He left that there, waiting for her to fill the void and answer the unasked question.
A soft spring breeze rolled along the path, the leaves overhead dancing, the branches parting and allowing a slash of light through the trees. The sun’s rays played with all the shades of red and blondes and browns that made up her hair. One of those curls slipped loose of her chignon and teased her shoulder.
Reflexively, he caught that tress, and Julia drew in a quiet breath as he slid the curl back behind her ear. “But, Julia,” he said softly, “you shouldn’t find guilt in allowing yourself simple pleasures. You are deserving of them… and more.”
She briefly closed her eyes and faced him. “I’m not.” A sad smile played with her lips. “My sister?” Julia sighed, her gaze growing distant. “She deserved this world, Harris. She deserved to throw coins and play with pelicans and—” Her voice broke, and she glanced quickly away.
Drawn to her, Harris lightly cupped her cheek, wanting to erase the sadness that had replaced the earlier joy upon her first spotting of the pelicans.
“Harris, ol’ chap, is that you?” a booming voice bellowed from behind.
Harris swiftly dropped his arm to his side and cursed the unwanted interruption that had shattered his connection with Julia.
They’d been discovered.
Julia hurriedly stepped away from Harris at the same moment he did her, both moving in opposite directions until there was a safer, more respectable distance between them.
“Rothesby,” Harris greeted, the familiarity of the name indicating he knew the gentleman who’d come upon them.
The dark-haired fellow staring back made no attempt to conceal his bald curiosity. With a slight roguish sneer on a face slightly too harsh to ever be beautiful, the gentleman gave Julia a bold once-over. “Introductions perhaps, old friend?” he murmured, never taking his eyes from Julia.
She knew his ilk as well as that all-too-familiar, improper stare he’d trained upon her, the kind that had been directed her way by many a passing gent outside Covent Garden.
Despite herself, Julia found herself drifting closer to Harris, who simultaneously was already sliding nearer her in a display of support and protection that said so very much about who he, in fact, was.
“Uh, yes, of course,” Harris said. “Allow me to present my good friend, His Grace, the Duke of Rothesby. Rothesby, the Duchess of Arlington’s niece, Lady Julia Corbett.”
Black eyebrows went flaring up. “Indeed?” The duke eyed Julia with renewed interest. “Perhaps you might join me at White’s later this afternoon?”
So they could speak about her. It was there in the possessive way the roguish fellow slid his gaze up and down her person, as though he had a right to look upon her, lingering his attention as long as he wished.
“Given you’re staring at me as you speak, my lord,” Julia said, “is it safe to assume you’re inviting me for drinks at your club?”
There was a beat of silence, Harris’ gaze swinging to her, and Julia tensed. A man such as him wouldn’t take to having a woman such as her call
