The Captain's Wallflower by Audrey Harrison Page A

of freedom this morning has meant,” Alexander said with feeling. He did not want to end their contact, but he knew the atmosphere that now existed between them was as a result of them both realising why they had never before been introduced. The reality of social interaction in London had prevented it and, in many respects, Alexander’s own arrogant attitude.
    “You’re welcome,” Amelia responded. “Samson certainly seemed to enjoy it.”
    “Am I asking too much for us to walk again?” Alexander asked. He did not want it to be the only time he experienced freedom, but it was more than that; he wanted a chance for them to return to easy terms. Her good opinion of him was suddenly very important to him.
    Amelia hesitated; she, of course, wanted to spend time in Alexander’s company; she had been aware of him since the first time she had seen him in a ballroom, during that first season. The problem was that, the more she saw of him and spoke to him, the more difficult it would be to forget him when it was time to return home. And forgetting him would be her only option when she returned to her family.
    “I’m not sure—,” she started, but was interrupted.
    “Please,” Alexander said quietly.
    He might no longer meet the eyes of the person he was communicating with, but his expression was no less beseeching for the lack of the usual interaction. “I shall be waiting here at the same time tomorrow,” Amelia said, dismissing her sensible side. His request was heartfelt; she could not refuse him.

Chapter 5
    A breath of relief whooshed out of Alexander when he heard the gentle ‘woof’ of Samson. He had not been sure Miss Basingstoke would attend even though she had given her agreement. During the previous evening when he had reflected on their conversation, he acknowledged that he had pressured her into meeting. All night he had been worried that she would have second thoughts, and he would have no further contact with her. He had convinced himself it was the freedom of being with Samson he was desperate for; thoughts of anything else would only cause more fear and doubt, and he could not face that just yet.
    “Good morning, Miss Basingstoke, Samson,” Alexander said, sounding more confident than he was. He felt calmer when Samson automatically took his place at his side, and he was able to scratch the neck of the furry animal. He felt Samson’s tail flicking at his legs as it swished from side to side, and he could picture the dog’s tongue lolling from the side of his mouth.
    “Good morning,” Amelia responded. She was smiling but once again was a little nervous.
    “Can we take a different route from the one we took yesterday?” Alexander asked, keen to start their walk. “If you could describe the paths we are walking along, I might recognise where we are.”
    “Of course,” Amelia agreed easily. She started to walk as she had done previously, but this time she described what she saw. What trees were around them, the paths they followed and which direction they were heading along with any of the seating areas or ornamental statues they passed. “This feels a little strange,” Amelia admitted as she walked.
    “Walking with me?” Alexander asked.
    “No!” Amelia smiled. “Describing objects and places in the parkland I think you might recognise. I need to think of words that will describe it without using the flowery language one would be expected to use when talking about an object of art or a painting. Explaining the reality rather than concentrating on the picturesque.”
    “You are doing very well. I can’t describe how frustrating it is to hear a different sound and have no clue what it relates to.”
    “It must make you feel very vulnerable,” Amelia said quietly.
    “It does, but I’m trying to accustom myself to the sense of being in the dark in more ways than one.” The wry smile that followed Alexander’s words pulled at Amelia’s heart. She did not feel sorry for him but