And Hyacinth had never realized before just how important that was to her.

Her lips parted as she watched him. She wanted to say something, to do something. She’d finally realized just what it was she wanted in life, and it felt like she ought to leap in with both feet, work toward her goal and make sure she got it.

But she was frozen, speechless as she gazed at his profile. There was something in the way he was holding his jaw. He looked bleak, haunted. And Hyacinth had the most overpowering impulse to reach out and touch him, to let her fingers brush against his cheek, to smooth his hair where the dark blond strands of his queue rested against the collar of his coat.

But she didn’t. She wasn’t that courageous.

He turned suddenly, his eyes meeting hers with enough force and clarity to take her breath away. And she had the oddest sense that she was only just now seeing the man beneath the surface.

“Shall we return?” he asked, and his voice was light and disappointingly back to normal.

Whatever had happened between them, it had passed.

“Of course,” Hyacinth said. Now wasn’t the time to press him. “When do you wish to return to Clair…” Her words trailed off. Gareth had stiffened, and his eyes were focused sharply over her shoulder.

Hyacinth turned around to see what had grabbed his attention.

Her breath caught. His father was walking down the path, coming straight toward them.

She looked quickly around. They were on the less fashionable side of the park, and as such, it wasn’t terribly crowded. She could see a few members of the ton across the clearing, but none was close enough to overhear a conversation, provided that Gareth and his father were able to remain civil.

Hyacinth looked again from one St. Clair gentleman to the other, and she realized that she had never seen them together before.

Half of her wanted to pull Gareth to the side and avoid a scene, and half was dying of curiosity. If they stayed put, and she was finally able to witness their interaction, she might finally learn the cause of their estrangement.

But it wasn’t up to her. It had to be Gareth’s decision. “Do you want to go?” she asked him, keeping her voice low.

His lips parted slowly as his chin rose a fraction of an inch. “No,” he said, his voice strangely contemplative. “It’s a public park.”

Hyacinth looked from Gareth to his father and back, her head bobbing, she was sure, like a badly wielded tennis ball. “Are you certain?” she asked, but he didn’t hear her. She didn’t think he would have heard a cannon going off right by his ear, so focused was he on the man ambling too casually toward them.

“Father,” Gareth said, giving him an oily smile. “How pleasant to see you.”

A look of revulsion passed across Lord St. Clair’s face before he suppressed it. “Gareth,” he said, his voice even, correct, and in Hyacinth’s opinion, utterly bloodless. “How…odd…to see you here with Miss Bridgerton.”

Hyacinth’s head jerked with surprise. He had said her name too deliberately. She hadn’t expected to be drawn into their war, but it seemed that somehow it had already happened.

“Have you met my father?” Gareth drawled, directing the question to her even as his eyes did not leave the baron’s face.

“We have been introduced,” Hyacinth replied.

“Indeed,” Lord St. Clair said, taking her hand and bending over to kiss her gloved knuckles. “You are always charming, Miss Bridgerton.”

Which was enough to prove to Hyacinth that they were definitely talking about something else, because she knew she wasn’t always charming.

“Do you enjoy my son’s company?” Lord St. Clair asked her, and Hyacinth noticed that once again, someone was asking her a question without actually looking at her.

“Of course,” she said, her eyes flitting back and forth between the two men. “He is a most entertaining companion.” And then, because she couldn’t resist, she added, “You must be very proud of him.”

That got the baron’s attention, and he turned to her, his eyes dancing with something that wasn’t quite humor. “Proud,” he murmured, his lips curving into a half smile that she thought was rather like Gareth’s. “It’s an interesting adjective.”

“Rather straightforward, I would think,” Hyacinth said coolly.

“Nothing is ever straightforward with my father,” Gareth said.

The baron’s eyes went hard. “What my son means to say is that I am able to see the nuance in a situation…when one exists.” He turned to Hyacinth. “Sometimes, my dear Miss Bridgerton, the matters at hand are quite clearly black and white.”

Her lips parted as she glanced to Gareth and then back at his father. What the devil were they talking about?

Gareth’s hand on her arm tightened, but when he spoke, his voice was light and casual. Too casual. “For once my father and I are in complete agreement. Very often one can view the world with complete clarity.”

“Right now, perhaps?” the baron murmured.

Well, no, Hyacinth wanted to blurt out. As far as she was concerned, this was the most abstract and muddied conversation of her life. But she held her tongue. Partly because it really wasn’t her place to speak, but also partly because she didn’t want to do anything to halt the unfolding scene.

She turned to Gareth. He was smiling, but his eyes were cold. “I do believe my opinions right now are clear,” he said softly.

And then quite suddenly the baron shifted his attention to Hyacinth. “What about you, Miss Bridgerton?” he asked. “Do you see things in black and white, or is your world painted in shades of gray?”