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Mr Dariell inclined his head A warhtened his olive complexion He possessed such a pleasant countenance that even Ada’s lips curled up a fraction

“You may call me Dariell,” he said in a smooth French accent

“You’re Lord Greystone’s friend,” Lydia clarified

“Oui That is correct” His dark, inquisitive eyes considered Ada The girl stiffened and held her breath until her cheeks puffed and turned berry red “Lord Greystone, he was in such a hurry to reach London that he failed to inform me of your connection”

Their connection? Having been caught with her skirt hiked up past her knees as she supposed to say to that? And must the man remind her that her seductive skills had forced Greystone to put forty miles between them?

“I am Miss Lovell My brother’s estate runs adjacent to the Greystone Estate”

Dariell remained silent for a hly unnerving “You have—oh, what do you say—a good energy,life where there is none, no?”

“Why, thank you” When his penetrating gaze moved to Ada, Lydia felt inclined to say, “And this is ress his lordship is lance and whispered, “Breathe”

Dariell’s attention settled on Ada “Ah, listen Do you hear that?” The Frenchman stood statue still

Both Lydia and Ada cocked their heads to listen It would be rude not to

“Tell me Tell me, what do you hear?” Dariell said in a soft, dulcet tone

Lydia was about to say the horrid banging behind, but then the histled past her ear, and the birds chirped sweetly as they foraged in the hedgerow

“I hear the trees talking,” Ada suddenly said “I hear the birds singing a pretty song”

“Oui” Dariell raised a brow “When you are listening, you are not thinking Your mind is at peace, n’est-ce pas?”

With a look of wonder, Ada simply nodded