A Winter's Knight: A Regency Romance by Elizabeth Cole Page A

she could explain it to someone who would understand.
    “Stop it, you goose,” she muttered to herself. She didn’t need anyone to comfort her. She had endured years of solitude, so she could certainly endure a single night. She continued to sit quietly as the sounds of people walking by rose and faded. A couple walked by, speaking in low tones. Though she could not discern any words, the intimacy of the conversation needled her, making her jealous of the pair. A gaggle of voices suddenly became louder, and a rustling of leaves brought her to her feet. It sounded as if someone had found her grotto. Then a huge shadow loomed over her.
    “Oh!” Cordelia stepped away, nearly tripping on the bench behind her, only to find herself staring at a tall—and devastatingly attractive—gentleman. She blinked, as if to clear her vision.
    “Pardon me.” The man bowed slightly, looking just as surprised to see her. “I didn’t know this hiding place was occupied.”
    “Are you in need of a hiding place?” she asked, finding her footing.
    He smiled faintly. “I fear I am being stalked by the...mothers.” As if to emphasize his predicament, he kept his voice quiet.
    Cordelia hesitated for a second, then thought that for once, propriety could go to hell. She was old enough to sit with a man in a secluded spot if she chose. And she was curious about the newcomer. “Please join me, then. I can sympathize with the need to avoid matchmakers.” She sank slowly down to where she had been sitting before.
    He sat on the bench next to her. “I’m sorry to have intruded on your privacy,” he said.
    “It’s of no matter,” she said. She put out her hand, white in the dappled moonlight. He took it, bowing his head just a bit in a polite gesture. Then they caught the voices of the matrons every bachelor in London most dreaded, the sound much closer this time. Putting a finger to his lips, he held her to silence while they passed by.
    When it was safe to speak again, Cordelia couldn’t suppress a soft laugh. It seemed that he really was just a fellow victim of the marriage mart. “You
are
being stalked, aren’t you?”
    “It’s a curse.” He looked at her, and she felt the intensity of his gaze. “I think you understand the feeling of being pursued.” 
    Cordelia shivered, thinking not of the dozen marriage proposals she’d received recently, or even that long ago one, but rather of the odd dream she had earlier that day. 
    He had not released her hand yet, and when Cordelia shivered, he must have felt it. She withdrew her hand at that moment, not even aware that he’d exceeded the bounds of politeness by keeping hold of her so long. 
    “I wish they’d leave me alone,” she muttered, half to herself. He heard her comment though, and saw her rub her arms to rid herself of the goosebumps that had arisen.
    “Are you cold?”
    “No,” she said lightly. “Well, yes. A little. It’s nothing to concern yourself with.” But he had already shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her. Cordelia was suddenly cocooned in warmth, along with a masculine smell like leather, and perhaps sandalwood. She stopped shivering. 
    Casting for a safe topic, she said, “I haven’t met you at these events before.” She waved her hand to indicate the Season in general. “Do you live in London?” She tried not to notice the outlines of his body, suddenly revealed now that his coat was off. She hoped the darkness hid her involuntary glance. He was worthy of a second glance, which she was determined
not
to indulge in.
    “I don’t, to be truthful.” He laughed to himself, perhaps at some private joke. “Circumstances force me to travel. I have, um, one house here in London.” He paused, perhaps considering how much to tell her. “My family estate is in Cheshire. I don’t get to spend as much time there as I’d like to, either. Too much time abroad.”
    “I suppose I should return to the house,” Cordelia said after a