Romancing a Wallflower

Richmond Park. Except for a few words about perhaps partaking of a picnic together, the foursome agreed to join forces and enjoy the scenery in tandem. Except for minimal pleasantries, conversation between Lilian and Harlow faded into a comfortable silence as they enjoyed the park.
There was only the slightest chill in the air, but this year the weather seemed a little cooler than normal. Considering the extreme cold of last winter, when the Thames froze hard enough for an elephant to walk across—at least that was what she had been told—it could not surprise her. Ordinary folk were out walking, reading books under trees, and eating lunches, without the perpetual, inconvenient rain or the heat of the summer.
Lilian snuggled into her lightweight pelisse. She wished Mama had not made such a fuss about her taking a wrap. She felt Lord Harlow might then have lent her his coat, something she felt sure would have warmed her clear to her toes. Thanks to Mama, she was left to warm herself.
It was a time to see and be seen. Almost a year had passed since her last such carriage ride through park, and it had been Hyde Park. Life had been different, then. Lydia and Lord Yarstone kept to their word and stayed either alongside or not far in front. Lord Yarstone’s red phaeton enjoyed a good deal of attention, a circumstance that gladdened Lilian—her sister welcomed the acclaim that she no longer wished to have. It provided a false feeling of obscurity, which Lilian, not so secretly, appreciated.
“Lady Lilian, may I have leave to call you by your given name?” Lord Harlow broke the silence. He lightly touched her gloved right hand.
Heat from his touch coiled through the core of her body, creating an unfamiliar feeling, but one she could not find disagreeable.
“I would like that, Lord Harlow…” she responded.
“John,” he retorted, before she could finish. “Please call me John. Are you warm enough?” he added.
Lilian looked down at the hand he had covered with his own and realized she had hugged herself with it. How embarrassing! What must he think of her, reacting thus to his touch?
“I am warm, thank you…my…John,” she answered haltingly while she studied him with curiosity. “Why are we here? I mean, why did you ask me? I am a wallflower. You could have had your pick of any young lady at the ball.”
“I picked you.” He lifted an eyebrow in ironic question.
Her stomach did a small flip. Lilian looked down at her hands and barely whispered.
“My lord, you flatter me. I am no longer used to such frivolity. I apologize if you deem my questions ill-mannered.”
“Lilian, I have hoped for the opportunity to become reacquainted with you ever since the first time I saw you. The occasion did not arise until this week. I had begun to believe I would not get the chance,” Lord Harlow answered as he stared into her eyes.
A sigh caught in her throat and she felt her heart beat strangely fast.
“You have left me without a response,” she whispered.
Lord Harlow dipped his head and pulled his horses to the right, signalling Lord Yarstone to follow. The two gentlemen turned their carriages off the main drive, slowing down as the party followed a narrower road.
He met her gaze. “I am being truthful. I realize that our first introduction was dreadful. I had hoped for better.” He transferred his reins to one fist, sliding his free hand over her gloved one and squeezed gently. “Do you feel hungry?” Lord Harlow nodded towards the tree-canopied clearing ahead of them, where a small stream rippled in the dappled light. Sunshine filtered through the branches of the trees and illuminated an area of velvet-like grass. Patches of pink and white phlox covered the ground, accentuating the edges of the stream. “That looks like a perfect spot for a picnic. It is not secluded, but the traffic mostly stays on the main carriageway.”
Lord Yarstone’s red phaeton edged up beside them. “Would you care to picnic here?” He spoke loudly across to Lord Harlow and Lilian.
“Lady Lilian and I were discussing that possibility.” Lord Harlow turned and looked at her, his blue eyes sparkling.
Lilian leaned forward to see her sister’s reaction. Lydia was nodding, so she took a steadying breath.
“Yes, my lord. This would be a lovely spot.” I hope I do not regret this. Lord Harlow…John…will have to carry me to the picnic blanket. Her heart raced a little faster at the thought of his hands holding her.
Lydia and Lord Yarstone took a blanket from each vehicle and spread them neatly beside the stream. Lord Harlow handed the reins of his curricle to his tiger and walked around to Lilian. Gently, he lifted her from the curricle. She slipped her arms around his neck. The scent of bergamot and bay leaf teased her senses, and without considering the impropriety, pulled closer. His touch, his very smell, lent her a sense of comfort and safety she had not felt since before the accident. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder, but with belated modesty, maintained as much distance as she reasonably could. It was good fortune for her that the distance was short, or she might have succumbed.
Lord Harlow—John—tenderly placed her on the blanket next to her sister.
“Thank you…my lord.” Lilian struggled with the notion of calling him by his Christian name, but in front of Lord Yarstone and her sister, she felt particularly awkward. It was too intimate, too soon. This whole adventure felt awkward, now that she thought of it. Her promise to her sister to attend one silly ball had grown into a picnic in Richmond Park with the man who had saved her life, a man whose appearance she had struggled for almost a year to recall. His fragrance had been the only thing she could remember… and now she was here with him. She shook her head.
“This will be fun!” Lydia opened the two baskets and laid out a bottle