She opened her mouth, closed it. He was correct. They needed to keep distance between them. However, if they went out in a rather large boat and sat at opposite ends—

“I go to church with my mother in the morning.”

“In the afternoon, then. Say one o’clock?”

She nodded. “I’ll meet you at the park, shall I?”

“Bring a chaperone if you wish.”

She gave him what she hoped was a saucy smile. “I think we’ve moved beyond that. See you tomorrow.”

She hurried through the shop, toward the door. “I’ll be back shortly, Marianne.”

“Yes, miss.”

She heard the excitement thrumming through her clerk’s voice. “It’s only tea, Marianne.”

“With a couple of gents.”

“You’re not supposed to eavesdrop.” Her words lacked conviction or sternness, so the shopgirl simply continued to smile.

“This will be the first of many such visitors,” Nan said when Fancy reached her. “You mark my words.”

“Let’s not have me betrothed before dinner.”

Nan laughed. “Ah, miss. You deserve to have the very finest, and these two are quite a feast for the eyes.”

They were indeed, but then she’d thought the same thing when she’d first met them. They both came to their feet as she entered. “Lord Beresford. Mr. Whitley.” Beresford was an earl, Whitley the eldest son of a viscount.

“Miss Trewlove,” they said in unison, both bowing.

She took the chair Aslyn had discreetly vacated in order to move to a chair in the corner, so she could chaperone without interfering. Both gentlemen returned to their respective places on the settee. Tea had been prepared and poured, and everyone picked up their saucers and cups to take a sip. Once her cup was back in its place, Fancy said, “It was so nice of you gentlemen to call.”

“I’d have come earlier if I’d known Whitley was going to be here at this time,” Beresford said.

“I’d have come later,” Whitley said.

She didn’t have the impression the gentlemen disliked each other. It was more that they didn’t want to share the attention. “What book are you currently reading, Mr. Whitley?”

“Well, I’m not reading. I’m having tea.”

It took everything within her not to roll her eyes.

“Good God, man, she doesn’t mean at this precise moment.”

“Lord Beresford is correct. What book is on the table beside your bed or your favorite chair in your library? What book has a ribbon marking your place?”

“My books are all on shelves. I don’t read them.”

“You don’t read books?”

“Haven’t time.”

How could a person not find some time for the pleasure of reading? “How do you spend your time?”

“Cricket. Polo. I’ve recently taken up marathon running. I prefer physical exertion to simply sitting about.”

She supposed then she should be honored that he was simply sitting about here.