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practical chit. “No. But I was fond of her. I still am. And so I shall stay away from her.”
     
      “Then I wish you were fond of me, so you would do me the same courtesy.”
     
      Connoll laughed. God, she was witty. “Unfortunately, I must remain in your company.”
     
      Her pace increased as they reached the park. “And why is that?”
     
      “Because we kissed. You’ve infatuated me.”
     
      This time Miss Munroe snorted. “If I infatuated you, you would do as I ask and leave me be.”
     
      “Is that how you generally dispose of infatuated males?” he asked, tipping his hat as the Duke of Monmouth trotted by on his morning ride. “An odd method of courtship, Gilly.”
     
      Evangeline didn’t seem to notice what he’d said. Rather, her gaze followed the path of the retreating duke. “You showed him respect,” she noted. “Who is he?”
     
      Mild annoyance touched Connell, and he brushed it away. Women found him charming; he knew that, because he’d seen ample proof. In spite of what had happened with Daisy, he was the one who generally broke off relations with a chit rather than the other way around. “That is the Duke of Monmouth,” he said, “an altogether unpleasant and overly opinionated fellow.”
     
      “I see. He’s quite distinguished-looking. Is he married?”
     
      “Extremely so.” Connoll put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her forward progress and in the same motion turning her to face him. “You’re walking withme , Miss Munroe.”
     
      “Not by choice. You invited yourself along.” She returned her gaze, and apparently most of her attention, to the passersby around them. The well-dressed ones, at least—and the men, specifically.
     
      He eyed her. “Are you hunting?” he asked after a moment, beginning to wish that he didn’t find her so interesting.
     
      “Hunting?”
     
      “You look predatory.” Actually, she looked enchanting, all hazel eyes and honey-blonde hair beneath her prim blue bonnet, but considering the forthright way she had of expressing herself, he would not mistake her for an angel. “I would think you’d find more fertile hunting grounds in aton ballroom.”
     
      Her fair skin flushed. “I am being observant. Anything else is your brandy-soaked imagination.”
     
      “For the last damned time, I am not a drunk.”
     
      She pulled away from him and resumed her race along the southern boundary of Hyde Park. “I don’t care.”
     
      “And you’re not being observant. You’re being…calculating.”
     
      “I am not! I go walking every morning. I did not appear on someone else’s doorstep and insinuate myself into their daily exercise regimen.”
     
      Perhaps she had reacted a bit too stridently to Monmouth’s appearance, but for heaven’s sake, he didn’t need to stir such a tempest over it. She should have realized the duke was married, because he’d never made even a brief appearance on her list. Evangeline set her attention on the bridge that crossed the Serpentine. If Lord Rawley would leave her alone or at least stop being so…distracting, shewould have realized that.
     
      She was only following her mother’s advice, anyway. No one had proposed to her yet, and until someone did, she had an obligation to herself to assess every eligible man. She did not, for instance, wish to end up married to a man as demanding of her wits and her attention as Connoll Spencer Addison was proving to be.
     
      “You know,” his cool, masculine drawl came from beside her, distracting her from her thoughts yet again, “if you favor ‘distinguished’ men, the show you’re putting on now by sprinting along the walking path probably isn’t helping you.”
     
      “I beg your pardon?” she snapped.
     
      “A ‘distinguished’ gentleman seeing such athletic ability and youthful exuberance in a chit might think twice about forming an attachment to her. You could very likely kill him on your