His was the kind of virility that stole a woman’s breath and stopped the flow of words from falling from her lips.

And yet, even as she was aware of him, the man he was, that was not the greatest change she noted.

It was his smile.

Or rather, still, the lack thereof.

And his silence.

He’d never been laconic.

Just the opposite.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I’ve been these past years, Anthony?” she asked quietly.

“How have you been these past years, Lettie?” he repeated her query as if it were memorized, in emotionless tones.

She wagged a finger at him. “I’ll pretend you didn’t sound pained by having to ask me how I’ve been.” Lettie sighed. “I have been uncourted. Bored.” She paused. “Though they are decidedly not tied together. I hardly require a proper suitor to fill my days, but I will say marriage would be welcome if it meant I had the freedom to decide to never attend a ball again. I’d do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and speak to friends—be they men or women—without fear of censure. Or fear for my reputation.”

Why was she speaking these thoughts aloud to him?

Why was she telling him all of this?

Mayhap because he’d managed to escape. He’d been able to separate himself from the gilded cage within which she and every other last daughter born to the peerage was trapped. They sat upon perches, waiting to be plucked out only so that the grand illusion of freedom might see them with their wings clipped and the true flight they yearned for denied.

“I spend my springs and most of my summers in London.”

“You always loved the country,” he remarked wistfully, as if trapped in the past they shared and recalling past memories of simpler times when there’d been only games and fun and not questions about the future.

“Ah, yes.” Lettie curled her lips in a wry grin. “But there’s a dearth of potential husbands there, and that”—She pointed a finger skyward.—“would never do where my mother is concerned.”

He said nothing to that. Not a single word left his lips, and restless, Lettie pulled her gloves free and set them down on the railing. She spun about so that her legs hung over the outer edge of the balustrade and stared out over Lord and Lady St. Albans’ grounds.

“Have a care, Lettie,” Anthony said, rushing over when she began to swing her feet back and forth. “That isn’t safe.”

Lettie glanced over at his outstretched hand. At some point, he too had shucked his gloves, and his long fingers looked golden, as if kissed by the sun.

“I assure you I’m hardly going to come to any harm, Anthony. As I said, I’m quite adept.”