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he generally avoided like the plague. His life had enough twists and turns without making every conversation into a battle. On the other hand, if she’d wept and fainted after their carriage accident yesterday, he doubted he would have bothered to make an appearance this morning—or at all, for that matter.
     
      It was a conundrum, and clearly Miss Munroe had the answers he required. He didn’t know the questions, and yet here he was again, for the second time in twenty-four hours. Perhaps he’d been traveling too much lately and the overabundance of bad roads had rattled his brains.
     
      “I don’t know whether to say good morning or good evening to you, Lord Rawley,” an enticing female voice said from behind him.
     
      He turned around, smiling as he noted that not only was she attired to perfection in a trim green walking dress, but she even wore a bonnet. “Today it’s good morning,” he returned, sketching a shallow bow. “I came to apologize.”
     
      “We’ve already established that you were drunk, my lord. Please don’t trouble yourself.”
     
      That again. “I’m apologizing for not dancing with you last evening. I made plans to attend, but a friend unexpectedly called on me to request my help with a pressing matter.” Of course, for Francis Henning nearly everything was pressing, but he recognized true desperation when he saw it.
     
      Something briefly passed through her hazel eyes. Surprise? “Oh,” she muttered, taking a half step backward. “There’s no need to apologize for that, either. I hadn’t expected you to remember, much less to attend.”
     
      He followed her retreat, ignoring the cluck of her lurking maid. “I did remember, and I did mean to attend. So I apologize.”
     
      “I…then I accept.” She cleared her throat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for my morning walk.”
     
      “I’ll join you.”
     
      She took another step toward the morning room door. “That isn’t necessary, my lord. You owe me nothing.”
     
      “I’m not offering anything but my presence and my wit, both of which are reputed to be quite pleasant. After you.” He gestured her toward the foyer.
     
      Evangeline frowned, then covered the expression again. “Very well. I do walk quite briskly, though.”
     
      “Duly noted.”
     
      Not troubling to hide his amusement, mostly because that seemed to baffle her, Connoll collected his greatcoat, gloves, and hat before he followed her out the front door. Moving up between the chit and her maid, he offered his arm.
     
      “I prefer to keep my hands free,” she said, and struck off in the direction of Hyde Park.
     
      He fell in behind her. “I like mine full,” he commented.
     
      “And your brain addled.”
     
      Connoll sighed. “You likely won’t believe me, but while I do drink socially, the state you found me in yesterday was quite unusual for me.”
     
      “You’re correct. I don’t believe you. You seemed perfectly at ease sprawled in the street and kissing me as though we were both naked. Or you and this Daisy were, rather.”
     
      He flinched. “I would consider it a favor if you would not mention her name in conjunction with mine again.”If he needed another reminder about what an unhelpful thing it was to be as intoxicated as he’d been, that provided it.
     
      Gilly shot him a sideways glance. “Why, are you worried about your so-called reputation?”
     
      “No, I’m worried about hers.” He drew a breath. “She had the bad taste to fall in love with some gentleman who will be far too adoring toward her. I did not receive the homecoming I expected, and instead spent the night at a very ungentlemanly club known as Jezebel’s. We—you and I, that is—ran into one another shortly after my driver dragged me out.”
     
      “I see.” They walked in silence for several moments. “Were you in love with her?”
     
      A surprising question from a seemingly