“How could I not look at them with their bodies put out on display? I’m sure if I saw you without your clothes on, I’d ogle you, too.” When Linley smiled, he continued, “Don’t compare yourself to works of art, and whatever you do, for God’s sake, do not compare yourself to girls like Gaynor Robeson.”
“But she is so very pretty…”
“Pretty, yes. All exterior and no substance. Girls like her are ten a penny. Everything she knows, she was taught—how to walk, how to talk, how to turn her head just so to look at a chap as if he were the only man in the room. Everything she is comes straight out of a fashion plate. She may as well clip it out and paste it to her chest every morning.”
Linley laughed.
“But you are an individual,” Patrick continued. “From the moment I saw you I knew I’d never meet anyone like you again. And that is something Gaynor will never have.”
“Did you know she never called on me after the ball?”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Why?” she asked. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Yes, I’m afraid you did.”
“Our private conversation? The one she interrupted?”
Patrick nodded. “Poor little Linley, failure of the season. Please tell me you have not been cooped up in the house all week.” When she didn’t answer, he added. “I’m sorry I waited so long to call on you. I’ve thought about you every day.”
Linley swallowed. “You have?”
“Yes. I have.” He scooted closer to her on the bench. “A girl as pretty as you should have callers ‘round the clock. How will I ever make it up to you?”
She leaned in very close to him and whispered, “You could start by kissing me.”
“That won’t win you any friends in London,” Patrick said, laughing.
“I don’t need any more friends.”
He reached up and ran his fingertips along the soft skin of her cheek. “I won’t kiss you simply because you told me to. I am not your little puppet on a string.”
“You are such an ass!” Linley said, choking out a laugh.
“An ass?” Patrick said, laughing as well. “Berenice Hastings needs to teach you some manners. You’ll never catch a husband with a mouth like that.”
“Good, because I don’t want one. Marriage seems like more of a headache than it’s worth.”
“I will have to agree with you on that.”
Linley stopped laughing and grew serious. “You don’t want to marry?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to marry, it’s just that I see no reason to. Of course, I’ll need an heir and all that, but the world won’t come to a screeching halt if there isn’t another Marquess of Kyre. In fact, it almost seems cruel to saddle my own son with all this responsibility. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
“But don’t you think you’ll get lonely without a wife or a family?”
“Linley, there is no shortage of women willing to spend time with me.”
“Oh, I see,” she said. “Why trouble yourself with a wife when you could have as many different women as you want.”
Patrick laughed a sad little laugh. “Something like that.”
“Well, I don’t want to get married either,” she said. “I have enough men in my life to worry about, and the last thing I need is another one telling me what to do.”
“You say that now, but when you are older you’ll see things differently,” he explained.
“I’m not one of those girls whose whole life centers on catching a husband,” she argued. “If I find I want a man that badly, then I’ll take a lover.”
“Don’t say that!”
Linley blinked up at him. “Why ever not?”
“Because ladies don’t talk that way, and if anyone were to hear you, it would be the end of your life as you know it.”
“You’re fooling yourself if you think anyone would care what I do.”
“I care,” Patrick said. “I care for you a great deal, Linley, and I know how men treat women who talk as you do.”
“I’m sorry I offended you.”
“You didn’t offend me.” He reached over and took her hand. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
***
Linley and Patrick left the garden and crossed the street toward Berenice’s townhouse. On the kerb in front of her doorstep, Archie, Reginald, Schoville, and Sir Bedford stood smoking cigarettes huddled around Patrick’s motorcar.
“Well!” Archie said as he saw the pair approach. “What do we have here?”
Linley looked over at Patrick, and then back to her friend. “Surely, you remember Lord Kyre, Archie.”
“How could I forget,” he replied, bowing. “Lord Queer.”
Patrick shifted from one foot to the other and cleared his throat.
Linley cringed. “We were taking a walk in the garden,” she said, grasping at anything to steer the conversation toward neutral ground. “It is so nice to have some company for a change.”
Reginald leaned across the bonnet of Patrick’s automobile. “Is this your motor?” he asked, poking at the little silver figurine of a flying woman on the radiator cap.
“It is.”
“Of course it is,” Reginald said, answering his own question. “Who else could afford a motorcar this fine?”