She couldn’t help but match his smile with a shake of her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“That’s because there isn’t anything like it,” he said. “It’s custom made.”

Her brow furrowed. “You’ve a custom curricle? Whatever for? Do you spend a great deal of time driving about the Scottish countryside, eager to be seen?”

He laughed at the question, the sound warm like the unseasonable day. “It’s built for racing. Very light, perfectly balanced, fast as a bullet. It’s virtually unbeatable.”

She did not care for the image of him careening down a road at high speeds, putting himself in danger, but she ignored the concern. It wasn’t as though he were hers to worry about, after all. “Designed by you?”

“By Eversley, as a matter of fact.”

Confusion came once more. “So it belongs to the marquess.”

“Nae. He traded it to me.”

“For what?” She couldn’t imagine what a comparable item might have been.

“For a used saddle.”

Her mouth fell open. “Why would he do that?”

He smirked, rocking back on his heels. “Because the idiot man fell in love.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, but I was not about to turn the offer down.” He extended a hand to her. “Shall we go?”

She did not hesitate, letting him hand her up onto the seat—higher than any curricle seat in which she’d ever sat—to take her place next to Hardy, who immediately set his face in her lap for scratching. Lily was happy to oblige.

Alec pulled himself up to sit next to Angus. “You’re going to ruin my dog with sausage and adoration.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “It’s not as though I’m dressing him in jeweled crowns.”

He smiled at the jest, so quickly she wouldn’t have seen it if she hadn’t been looking. But she was. He had a beautiful smile. Not that she was noticing for any specific reason. It was simple fact. Like the sky being blue, or dogs having tails.

She was distracted from her line of dunderheaded thought when the vehicle began to move in the calmest ride she’d ever had, the box barely shifting with the motion of the wheels.

It was a glorious curricle. “I should like one of these.”

“I shall buy you one. As a wedding gift.”

Always with his mind on the goal—to get her married—to make her another’s problem. “If it is a wedding gift, it will not be mine. I’d rather it were a—”

He cut her a look. “A what?”

She shook her head. “I was going to say that I’d rather it was a birthday gift.”

“And your money is not enough?” he said, dryly.

“My money is my due. A gift, though, I have always thought one would be nice.”

“Always thought?” He looked to her. “You’ve never received a birthday gift?”

She looked away, unwilling to reply with his gaze on her. He saw too much. “When I was a child I did. Trinkets. But once my father . . .” She hesitated, then shook her head. “They are for children, I suppose, gifts. When was the last time you received one?”

“My last birthday.”

She blinked.

“Catherine gave me a kitten. She thought I deserved something as arrogant as I was.”

Lily laughed. “And?”

“She named the damn thing Aristophanes. Of course it’s arrogant.”

“And do you love it very much?”

“I tolerate it,” he said, but she noticed his lips curving in a small, fond smile. “It gets its fur all about my pillow. And yowls at inopportune times.”

“Inopportune?”

“When I am abed.”

Lily blushed, imagining the times to which he referred. “I’m sure that is unpleasant for your bedmates.”

He did not miss a beat. “You haven’t lived until you have been woken by these two beasts chasing a cat up the walls.”

Lily laughed, stroking Hardy’s lovely, soft head. “Nonsense. I’m sure they are perfect princes.”

Without looking, Alec reached to give the dogs a rough scratch, first Angus, and then—his hand fell to hers, on Hardy’s head, sending a thrill of awareness through her in the heartbeat before he snatched it away.

“Pardon me,” he said. They rode in silence for a long moment, Lily wishing that he would touch her again, until he cleared his throat. “We should discuss the goals of this afternoon.”

She looked to him. “The goals?”

“Indeed.”

She waited for him to continue. When he did not, she said, “I thought the goal was to get me betrothed before the painting is revealed.”

“It is.”

She looked away, ignoring the pang of displeasure that came with his words. She did not want to be rushed into marriage. That had never been the dream. The dream had been passion and love and something more powerful than a walk in the park. Eyes meeting across a crowded room. She’d settle for eyes meeting across a moderately populated room. Eyes meeting. Period.

Instead, she was about to be shown like cattle.

And all in the hopes that they could trick a man into choosing her before the entire city saw her nude.

It was humiliating, really.

And then he said, “It’s important that you appeal.”

She whirled to face him. “That I appeal?”

He nodded, the carriage speeding up along the wide street as they sailed toward Hyde Park. “I have some suggestions.”

“On how I might appeal.”

“Yes.”

This was not happening. “These suggestions. Are they as a chaperone?”

“As a man.”

It hadn’t been at all humiliating before. Now it was humiliating. Perhaps she would topple off this remarkable conveyance. Perhaps its uncommon speed would blow her into the Thames and she would sink into the muck.

If only they were nearer to the Thames. No such luck. “Go on.”

“Men like to talk about themselves,” Alec said.

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I suppose you should, considering your friendship with Hawkins,” he offered, the wind strangling the words.

“We were never friends,” she snapped.