Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

W ith a maid in tow, Genevieve pushed the door of Hatchards open and walked into her favorite bookstore in London. She walked the many rooms, looking for a good gothic romance she may like, and yet her mind would not dispel the image of Lord Tyndall kissing her. Or the mortification on his handsome features when he realized who was in his arms.

Was she so dreadful to kiss?

Surely not.

She stared at a row of books, their titles and genres blurred, as her mind dwelled on what had happened between her and Tyndall. He was her brother's best friend, her enemy, and her childhood bully.

And yet…he was also the first man who had ever made her feel anything for the opposite sex.

Why could she not have felt nothing with him?

Damn man was a pebble in her shoe.

"Lady Genevieve, how fortunate to meet you here."

She turned and stared at Mr. Venzellons, who smiled at her as if she were some strange creature he had discovered. She dipped into a curtsy out of politeness and returned his smile. "Mr. Venzellons, good afternoon. I did not think to run into you at Hatchards." Her father had introduced her earlier in the Season, but he'd been frustratingly distant since then.

Considering that she considered him the most handsome and suitable gentleman to pursue, she ought to have made more effort to gain conversation.

As it stood, she knew very little about him. His likes and dislikes, what books he enjoyed, anything. She didn't want to admit it, but maybe Lord Tyndall had a point that she ought to get to know Mr. Venzellons better before she desired him as a husband.

"I have just purchased The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling. " Mr. Venzellons held up the book to prove he indeed purchased the tome. He turned and inspected the shelves she stood before. "Are you searching for the anatomy of foxes? You seem to be before the zoology sciences."

Heat kissed Genevieve's cheeks, and she finally read the spines of the books, confirming that she was indeed in the animal sciences area.

She let out an awkward chuckle. "No, in fact, you find me daydreaming, and I just happened to be daydreaming before this genre."

"Well, if you require some fresh air, may I be so bold as to walk you a little way to your carriage?"

"I do. As a matter of fact, I was heading to Hyde Park afterward for a stroll with my friends, but I could use some company if it interests you."

"Perhaps I could escort you there, and we shall enjoy a walk together if I'm not so bold in asking."

Pleasure thrummed through Genevieve at his kind offer. Did this mean that Mr. Venzellons favored her and had finally commenced his pursuit of her hand? Why else would he seek her out here in the bookshop? He could have merely left after buying his book.

"I would like that very much." He held out his arm, and she linked hers with his, bidding the clerk a good afternoon before leaving the shop. Jeffries, her driver, opened the door to the carriage and set down the steps. "To Hyde Park, Jeffries. Mr. Venzellons is joining me on my walk this afternoon."

"Of course, Lady Genevieve." Jeffries' attention moved to Mr. Venzellons, and if she were not mistaken, her driver didn't hide his critique of her escort.

She gathered her skirts and stepped into the carriage, glad she had asked for the top to be down this afternoon, especially since she was now with Mr. Venzellons. Her maid sat at the back of the carriage, and they were soon rumbling along the cobbled street toward the park.

"I understand you're from New York," she said. "Is it much different there than here? I hear it is a growing and bustling city that will soon rival London."

He leaned back against the leather squabs, his smile a little mocking for her taste. She pushed down the concern that perhaps he wasn't as charming as she thought, and was determined to give him a second chance.

"New York is grand indeed with many opportunities. I have succeeded there beyond my imagination, making a fortune that I'm not afraid to admit may rival your dowry."

Genevieve blinked owlishly, not quite believing he had said those words. But then, Americans did boast, or so she had heard. Perhaps if she were his wife, she would soon become accustomed to such habits.

"And where did you come from before moving to New York and making your way there?"

"Oh, I lived in the Province of North Carolina, a grueling lifestyle to be sure, but I found gold, quite a lot of it, in fact, while prospecting, enabling me to move to the city. I have commenced building a home in Manhattan where I would like to raise a family one day if God wills it. I'm sure there will soon be banking and trade in the city. It is growing at an astronomical rate that anyone would be impressed with."

"Well, it does sound exciting."

Mr. Venzellons smiled. He was handsome, with clean, straight teeth, cutting cheekbones, and the darkest blue eyes she had seen in quite some time. And yet, the butterflies she hoped to feel did not arise. No matter how long she stared at the pretty man.

The thought of kissing him held no appeal. Why though was a mystery. He was interesting, had a unique accent, and wasn't unpleasant to be around, but there was no spark, no fire behind his eyes, and she certainly felt the same as he appeared.

What on earth was wrong with her?

Perhaps those wants and needs would appear in time, the more she came to know him…

The carriage rumbled along Piccadilly before turning onto Park Lane and into the park. They drove in silence for a time before Jeffries pulled the carriage onto the grass and jumped down to help them alight.

Genevieve slipped on a broad-rimmed hat, took Jeffries' hand, and stepped down, taking Mr. Venzellons' arm as they started to walk.

They were near the Serpentine and moved onto a graveled path circling the lake. They would not be doing a complete rotation today, but it would give them time to speak without interruption.

"The park is beautiful, much like my company this afternoon."

Genevieve chuckled, enjoying such off-the-cuff compliments. Although she received many and had been quite popular those last two Seasons, they were from gentlemen she held no interest in. It was pleasant to hear a compliment from a relative stranger. "Thank you, Mr. Venzellons. That is very kind of you."

She reached for her fan that hung off her wrist and opened it, fanning herself.

"Are you warm in that dress? To see the fashions that women must endure makes me sweat. Not that my own suit is not warm, but your skirt must have yards of fabric to its name."

Genevieve looked down at her dress, certain Mr.Venzellons was correct. There were more yards in her skirt than she cared to know. But speaking of one's garments was not the thing to do, and she debated whether she ought to school him on proper etiquette. But then, they were alone, besides her maid, who followed a few steps behind. What did it hurt to speak the truth sometimes?

"It is very warm. Perhaps we can stick to the shade of the trees," she suggested, pointing her fan to a copse of trees lining the lake.

"Of course." Mr. Venzellons escorted her to shadier paths, but the sight of a boat on the lake caught her attention. Her steps stopped, and Mr. Venzellons almost tripped into her at the suddenness of her halting.

"Something the matter, Lady Genevieve?"

"No, nothing at all." She started toward the trees again, and yet, something was certainly very wrong. Why was Lord Tyndall out on the lake in a boat, but not with some nameless woman she did not care about or care to know, but one of her best friends in all the world, Lady Charlotte?