Romancing the Rogue (34 page)

“
That crazy goose
is still wearing my hat.”

Anna leaned toward Lucy, the edge of her hat brushing against Lucy’s. “Well you must admit, dear, it is a lovely shade of yellow.”

“It’s white.” Poor woman. Forever mistaken on any given day about any given color.

“Pardon? Oh. Well. Nevertheless, the goose has good taste in attire.”

A smile tugged at Lucy’s lips. “Indeed. But it was one of my favorites. It’s as if the goose knew that and absconded with it just for spite.”

“I’m sure if you batted your lashes at Mr. Barrow, he’d give the hat-rescue another go.”

Lucy lightly smacked Anna’s hand. “
Anna
. I wouldn’t do that.” She raised one corner of her lips. “Well, perhaps I would, but… in any case, I shouldn’t think it pleasant to wear a hat after it’s been paraded around the pond by a large grey bird.”

“I see your point.” She grimaced. “You might sprout feathers.”

“And wouldn’t that be a sight.” She tapped her chin with her forefinger. Although…”

Anna raised both eyebrows. “Yes?”

“If I were a
bird
…”

“Ah. You’d be even more attractive to a certain Sanctuary worker, hmm?”

Laughter bubbled up from Lucy’s throat. “Yes. I think I might at that.”

“I think you are already very attractive to the aforementioned worker.”

Lucy shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“You ladies seem to be in high spirits this morning.” Mr. Warner’s deep voice startled them.

“Oh, Richard.” Anna’s breath came in quick little puffs. She waved her hand in front of her reddened face.

Good heavens, the poor woman looked as if she might swoon at any moment. Should Lucy try to find some smelling salts? She glanced at Mr. Warner, who was looking intently at Anna with a great big grin on his face. On second thought, if Anna swooned, surely Mr. Warner might be just as happy to catch her himself.

He smiled. “Would you care to sit with me for a while… Anna?” A full blush colored his cheeks. They resembled twin ripe tomatoes.

Lucy smiled. The older pair was so sweet together. They truly did seem a match, even though they’d just met. “Yes, please, do go ahead.”

Anna glanced at Lucy, but she was already tugging Mr. Warner in the opposite direction. “Are you certain, dear?”

“Yes. Quite certain.” Lucy bit her lip. If Anna tugged on Mr. Warner’s hand any harder, they’d both take a tumble down the nearby hill and then they might have a worry about broken bones. “I’m… I’ll find something with which to entertain myself. Drawing, perhaps.” She patted her reticule.

Mr. Warner and Anna were several yards away before she’d finished her sentence. They certainly hadn’t wasted any time finding a place to be alone. Which sounded like a fine idea to Lucy, too, if a certain Sanctuary worker happened to be around.

Lucy frowned.
Is Mr. Barrow not here at present?
He had always been there before during her visits. At least, since they’d begun their acquaintance. She had no idea how long he might have worked there before she started coming to sketch the birds.

How disappointing if she was not to see him today. Reaching into her reticule, she retrieved her pencil and paper. Having finished her nuthatch, she’d started sketching the dastardly goose, sans hat. If she’d drawn the bird still wearing it, no one would believe it was real.

The goose’s bill and neck formed on her paper. Turning the pencil with the tip on its side, Lucy shaded in the feathers of the face to make them appear softer. Feathers on the lower body would be more defined, with bolder lines outlining each one. Even though she wouldn’t draw the hat, the goose would most definitely have a gleam to the eye. Something must be done to convey the mischievousness of the bird.

“It seems there would be things which would be of better use of you time.”

A male voice. Not the one she longed to hear. Shiny, expensive boots stood not far from her. Without looking up, she muttered, “Hello, Conrad.”

Foregoing invitation or returning the salutation, Conrad sat on the bench next to her. Too close. Heat from his skinny frame swept across her arm. Lucy lowered her eyebrows, this time giving the man a stare. “Pardon me, but do you suppose you could move a little to your left?”

He harrumphed. “Whatever for? I’m in the shade here.”

“Because you are sitting too close to me.”
Anywhere in this hemisphere is too close!

“But if I move, I’ll be in direct sun.”

She gave him a withering glare, wishing she could cause him to disappear simply by her menacing look. “Conrad, you are sitting too close to me to be appropriate. Please
move
.”

“But—”

“Why must you always argue to get your way? Can’t you see that we would appear to be something we are not if you sit too closely?”

He smiled. “Oh, I’d love for people to—”

“I believe the lady asked you to move, Lofton.”

Oliver!

Conrad angled around and stared up at him. “Oh. It’s you.”

“I do work here, after all.”

“Yes. Of that I am fully aware. You
work
.
Here
.” Distaste hung on his pasty features. Although he did sport a sunburned nose from his earlier Sanctuary visit. Was it too much to hope the burn would eventually peel? And flake onto his spotless cravat?

Why couldn’t the man simply move away from her? Not only because she didn’t like him, but because now Oliver was there. She had no wish for him to think that she and Conrad…

A shudder ran through her. If her father had his way, that’s exactly how things would be.

Oliver leaned forward. “Miss Ashbrook, you’ve gone white as a ghost.”

Conrad squinted. “You do look as if you drank something akin to pond water.”

Oh, Conrad, how aptly put. Because touching you in any form would make me physically ill.

She smiled at Oliver. “I’m fine. Truly.” A slight tilt of her head toward Conrad.

Oliver nodded. “Right. How about a nice long walk?”

“Yes,” said Lucy.

“No,” said Conrad.

She turned toward the toad sitting next to her. “Don’t feel as if you must join us, Conrad. I’m sure you have other things that would pique your interest rather than taking another walk through the Sanctuary. That is, unless, you wished to visit your cuckoo friend again.”

This time, Conrad shuddered. “No, I don’t wish to reacquaint myself with
that.
But I must insist on coming with you, Lucy.” He peered at Oliver. “As a chaperone.”

She held up her hand in front of him. “I don’t see how—”

“Ah.” Conrad’s smile resembled an alligator’s wide grin. “It was your father who made the suggestion.”

“Pardon me?”

“Oh yes. It’s true.”

“Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we?” She crossed her arms.

“Absolutely, Lucy. I encourage you to ask your father. In the mean time, if you take a walk with
him
, just know that I will be there as well.”

“Fine.” Lucy stood abruptly from the bench in a rustle of skirts. Conrad was stubborn enough to carry through with his threat. If she wished to spend any time at all with Oliver today, it would have to be with the skulking vulture along for the ride. But she would definitely be telling her father about Conrad’s words and actions. How dare he? And how dare he say it was her father’s idea? Yes, he’d told her many times that she would do well to marry Conrad, but he’d never forced her. Lately, though, he had seemed determined that she accept Conrad’s proposal.

She bit her lip. It couldn’t be true. Could it? Surely her father wouldn’t do that to her. He was stubborn. But…

“Ready, Miss Ashbrook?” Oliver smiled. That dimple on his cheek,
her dimple,
was her undoing. How could she ever say no to it?

“Yes. Let’s go for a walk.”

A warm breeze filtered through branches and over shrubs, rustling the field grass as if caressed by a giant hand. So peaceful. So tranquil. Lucy could see why Oliver enjoyed it here so much. She only wished he did it because it was simply something he enjoyed, not because he had to in order to earn a living.

They tromped across a field of ankle-deep grasses.

Past the
proop-prooping
ducks.

Skirted around a nest of goslings with a watchful goose nearby.

Up a steep hill, startling small finches of some sort.

Down into a damp, marshy valley where some chiff-chaffs were at play.

And over to a large grove of trees.

Oliver stopped and tilted back his head. “There’s your little man in his cutaway coat.” He pointed up and to their left.

Lucy shaded her eyes and squinted. The tiny bird hopped around, looking every bit as if he performed a jig. “Ah, yes. Such a character, isn’t he?”

“They’ve been known to hang upside down on the side of a tree.”

“Now there is something I’d love to see!”

Conrad walked up to stand beside her. His breath came in gasps. Didn’t the man ever exert any energy? The pace of their walk had not been that brisk. “What on earth are you blathering on about? Some man is sitting in that tree? Hanging upside down? In a cutaway coat? Must be a Bedlam escapee. No one else would act so disturbed.”

Lucy shook her head, trying not to think of Conrad running toward them that first day, waving his arms, looking every bit like a resident of Bedlam. “No, Conrad, it’s only a joke. You see that little bird up there, the blue and white one?”

“Oh. Yes, so…”

“It’s called a nuthatch.” Oliver seemed to barely suppressed his irritation. “They’re numerous here in the summer, and a favorite with our visitors.”

“Humph.” Conrad grimaced. “I cannot imagine why anyone would come here to visit
that.”

Lucy gritted her teeth. What a rude idiot! “May I remind you that you are here, looking at that very same bird?”

Pale blue eyes narrowed. “As I said, I am only here on your behalf. At your father’s suggestion.”

Oliver crossed his arms. “But how is it acceptable for you to be a chaperone for her? You are every bit as unmarried as I.”

Conrad held up a bony finger. “Ah, but there are very specific differences, Barrow.”

“Do tell.” Oliver clenched his teeth, forming a solid, muscled line along his jaw.

Reaching into his pocket for the ever-present handkerchief, Conrad wiped perspiration from his brow. “You see, Lucy and I have known each other for years. People of our, ahem, circle know this and wouldn’t bat an eye at the two of us being seen together in a public place. You, however, are a completely different story.”

“Go on.”

“Not only are you a recent acquaintance of Lucy, you are also of a completely different class.”

“Don’t say that.” Lucy widened her eyes.

Sun bounced off of Conrad’s sunburned nose. “It’s true. You can’t deny it, Lucy. He is a laborer.”

“Ah—”

“A bumpkin.”

“But—”

“A common worker of the lowest—”

“Conrad! I must insist that you cease any further words degrading Mr. Barrow.”

The man in question, having taken Conrad’s last words without a rebuttal, touched her sleeve. “Don’t bother, Miss Ashbrook. Some people will always look down their noses at others, no matter what they do or how much they possess.”

“But…”

He took a half step toward her. “No. let it be, please. Things tend to sort themselves out…” He glared at Conrad’s smirking countenance, “…in the end.”

She shrugged. “If you wish.”

“I do.”

Conrad cleared his throat. “Can we please get on with this tedious excursion? Honestly, I don’t know how you people stand to spend so much time around the horrid winged creatures and the messes they make.”

A wet blob splatted on Conrad's very expensive coat, leaving a white splotch.

He gasped.

His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. “Of all the… Look at this, just look!”

A gooey white splotch of something unmentionable now resided on the shoulder of Conrad’s very expensive coat.

Lucy covered her mouth with her hand, hoping to physically restrain her mirth. “Oh… dear.”

Oliver coughed. Lips then pressed together. But his telltale dimple appeared. “S-sorry about that, Lofton.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you just are.” The handkerchief appeared again. Lips pursed in distaste, Conrad wiped the offending substance from his coat. But some, just enough to reek havoc, smeared across the dark fabric. “My valet will be livid when he sees this.”

Lucy took a deep breath.
Concentrate. Do. Not. Laugh
. “Per-perhaps he will have something with which to remove the, uh, spot. And, after all, it’s only just the one—”

Another blob fell from above.