Somehow, Lawry managed to hide his embarrassment at his sister's introduction, stepping forward to offer both women that small formal bow of greeting that had a lifetime of good manners had instilled in him. "Good afternoon, Madam," he greeted her mother first before turning to the daughter, "Miss King. A pleasant afternoon for a walk, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is, Lord Arden," Edith responded, far warmer now she had taken tea with his sister. "Would you, perhaps, like to walk with us for a span?"

At this, Clare cast a curious glance toward her mother, but Edith was already wrapped in Constance's arm, the two women waiting for their slightly manipulated charges to walk ahead of them.

"Yes, of course," he replied, as if they had only come upon them by chance, which was not the case. He offered the younger of the pair an arm, which was the most he dared in public. "If you would do me the honor, Miss King."

Now deeply suspicious of this "timely" meeting, Clare raised a brow at him, her lips curving into a soft smile. "Thank you, Lord Arden," she accepted, laying her gloved hand on his arm. It was an effort to ignore the delighted whispering going on between her mother and his sister as they began to walk side by side. "So ....not an elderly recluse, then," she said in quiet amusement. "My sister will be delighted to know our information was so terribly wrong."

"No, I'm afraid not. Are you terribly disappointed?" he asked, as he led her forward, far enough ahead of her mother and his sister that their conversation could not be heard, but close enough to satisfy propriety. He didn't deny being something of a recluse, but he did not deem himself elderly just yet.

She looked up at him, the sunlight catching her face from beneath the forward brim of her hat for a moment. "No," she confessed softly. "No, I am not disappointed at all." She dared to smile directly at him, laying her other hand over her fingers at his elbow as they walked - scandalous, perhaps, but she was tired of behaving perfectly only to be overlooked. If he objected, he would make it clear to her, no doubt. "Upon our first acquaintance, I must confess I was disappointed to believe you only a knight of the realm. I am sure you have been made aware of my father's ambitions by now. A knight is not high enough for his pleasure."

He made no move to remove either hand from his arm, but he did frown a little at her confession. "I must apologize for my deception. I had assumed you knew who I was and, when I realized you did not, I found myself relieved. I am sure my sister has informed you of our situation by now. It is humbling, to say the least," he confessed, lowering his voice so that their well-meaning chaperones did not overhear.

"I can understand your feelings," Clare assured him softly. "My own situation is ..." She trailed off, unable to find the right words to describe her problems. "Suffice it to say, if I do not succeed with my father's wishes this year, he shall pin his hopes upon my sister, yet it is his behavior that has denied me a match and will deny one to her. Your situation is humbling, sir. Mine is a constant insult. It would seem we are perfectly matched."

"It would seem so," he replied in complete agreement. "There is one thing, however," he said, as he came to a stop near yet another rose garden, hoping his sister was able to occupy her mother long enough that he could have a private word or two without any eavesdropping or interference. "My sister thinks me a romantic fool, but my most sincere wish is to find a wife that is not only a good match socially and financially, but one whom I might one day grow fond of," he told her quietly, sharing his deepest wish with the one person to whom it might be most important.

To say she was surprised to hear him say as much was a slightly understatement. Clare was utterly unused to men speaking of any form of attachment beyond material gains when it came to a wife. "You truly are a lion among lambs, aren't you?" she said wonderingly, careful to keep her eyes on the roses beside them so as not to attract undue attention. "I should like very much to be more than an occasional companion to my husband. To be his friend, and to earn his love, perhaps. It is bold of me to say it, but I believe we could be friends, sir. And from friendship, who can say what might grow?"

"I should think I am just the opposite," he replied with a bit of a self-deprecatory chuckle. Indeed, few of his rank and title would bother with romance or hope for anything more than friendship, but then he had always been more like his mother than his father. "Who can say, indeed?" he asked, with that charming and somewhat disarming smile of his. He untangled his arm from hers for a moment to carefully pluck a rose from a nearby bush. "The most delicate and lovely of nature's flowers," he said, as he turned to face her once again. "And yet, it pales in comparison to you."

"I am hardly delicate, sir," she admitted, but her smile had softened, deeply touched by the impulsive romantic gesture made in the full light of day, when anyone could see and know them for who they were. "You are kind to compliment me so. Were our genders reversed, I should already have named you the fairest beauty of my acquaintance, and yet, it is not your face that holds my thoughts. The spirit is, I think, handsomer by far even than the handsome face that wears it."

He smiled, both flattered and amused by her compliment. He'd heard such things before, at least in regard to his looks, but rarely did anyone search deep enough to comment on his spirit. "Kind words and high praise to live up to. I hope I don't disappoint," he told her, breaking off the rose above the thorns before offering it to her. He might have tucked it behind her ear, if the gesture hadn't seemed too forward for the light of day.

Taking the bloom in one hand, Clare raised it to her nose, breathing in the fragrance for a long moment before lifting her eyes to his once more. "I do not think you will," she assured him. "You may be confident in knowing that, should you find some way to disappoint, I shall certainly tell you so." She laughed, curling her hands to his arm once again, her rose caught safely in her fingers. "I can only hope that my father's manner will not disgust you so very much."

"You may have heard my father was not the most endearing of men," he admitted quietly with an almost sad frown as she took his arm and he continued to lead her along the path that wound through the park and gardens. "It is because of him that I am in this predicament," he reluctantly confessed, believing she deserved to know the truth of his situation, if she did not know it already.

"I see." She did not need him to expound upon his predicament; gossip and rumor ran ahead of everyone in society, and his financial situation was not entirely unknown to her. She did not want to linger on it, nor on her concern that his interest in her stemmed purely from the generous dowry her father intended to bestow on the man who finally wed her. "Wealth can smooth any number of flaws, I have heard it said."

"So I have heard, but I have my doubts," he said, chancing a glance over a shoulder at their chaperones who, thankfully, were deep in a conversation of their own. His sister was proof enough that money did not buy happiness, though she would never admit it to him. "If money were my only concern, I would have courted the one with the richest bank account," he pointed out. Even if her father was willing to offer a generous dowry, that was not had initially drawn him to her.

"I do not wish for you to be indebted to me, Miss King. If our ....acquaintance ....does result in an engagement, then I should consider myself fortunate to have won not only your friendship but your trust. If I were to also win your heart, well, then, I would be a happy man, indeed," he said, turning serious, though that smile was still on his face. Both of them seemed to be implying the desire for something more than just friendship, but it was too soon to know for sure.

"Should you win my heart, my lord, then you should know that I am of an impetuous nature," she warned with a smile of her own. "If I grow to love you, not even my father's refusal could prevent me from wedding you. But you may be assured that he would not dare to refuse you - indeed, he may attempt to buy you before you had a chance to speak. If it comes to that."

Of course, she was. That was part of what had attracted him to her in the first place. And how did he know that' The red hair was proof that she was not one to follow the crowd, and while most men preferred a woman who would kow-tow to their whims and wishes, Lawry found a woman with spirit far more desirable than a sheep. He chuckled a little at her warning about her father, though he found himself hopeful of her mention of love. "My heart is not for sale; my title, however, is another matter." He turned serious again as another thought crossed his mind. "My father's debt is a stain on my family's reputation that your father may find unacceptable, however."

Clare's lips quirked into the small smile that declared ahead of her words that she did not consider this stain on his reputation to mean anything. "Four generations ago, the King family were navvie workers in Chatham docks," she informed him without ceremony. "I think, sir, if you can overlook our humble beginnings, my father will not even think twice about your inherited debt."

"Indeed, there is something to be said for hard work. Your family's wealth was earned, while my title was merely inherited. I've done nothing to earn it, but be born into it. I've often considered that I would like to do something more with life than oversee an estate, spending my days going over ledgers and such," he confessed with a frown. "If you must know, I am happiest when I am on horseback. By any chance, do you ride, Miss King?"

Her smile broadened into something terribly unfashionable but wholly genuine. "I do indeed, sir," she agreed happily. "There is not much call for it in Chatham, but I ride when I can. I do not have a horse of my own, unfortunately." She squeezed his arm as they walked. "As for overseeing an estate, surely there is more to it than numbers and ledgers. Do you not travel about and know your people and tenants as well as you can?"

"Yes, of course. It is just ....a rather boring existence at times, don't you think" We live in such exciting times, Miss King. There are engineering marvels emerging daily all around us! The railroad, the electric light-bulb, the telephone, aero-planes and motorcars. Mark my word - these things will one day become common place. I ask you, what mark will we make upon society or upon the world around us" These are the questions that stir my heart and keep me awake at night," he explained, sharing more with her than he even had with his own sister, though he wasn't sure why.

His sudden passion for the subject absolutely captivated her, animating his face and voice to such a degree that she was forced to reassess her former opinion of his beauty. He was far more handsome in this moment than she had previously believed him to be. "The mark we leave upon our world need not be the mark of industry," she offered. "Our society is greatly in need of change, and perhaps our voices will one day be heard with respect, and not shouted down as the ravings of wanton degenerates." She was speaking, of course, of women's suffrage, and the movement at large in society to gain her gender the right to vote and have a say in the running of their world. They were not fashionable opinions, nor were they particularly popular among the class she moved in, but Lawry's honesty had inspired her to dare air them in his presence.

"Yes! Bloody well, yes!" he exclaimed, in reply to her statement. He wasn't entirely sure that what she was talking about was the women's suffrage movement, but he was of the belief that social reform was not only necessary but imminent. "The world is changing quickly, Miss King, and we must change with it or be left behind."

"Indeed, we should," she agreed vehemently, not at all dismayed by his exclamation, though others in the park around them were looking in their direction curiously. "Yet conservatives and old men with long memories seek to hold back the necessary change. Not enough of the elite are prepared to speak out, and until they do, these calls for reform will not be acknowledged."

"Change is coming, Miss King. There was a time when people believed the world to be flat. There was a time when people scorned those who thought differently, but the world eventually had to admit that they were right. Ah, yes ....Trust me, Miss King. Change is coming. It will not be easy, and there will be people who resist such changes, but it is inevitable. It is just a matter of time," he told her with a grin, ignoring the curious onlookers.

"Then perhaps, Lord Arden, the best way to facilitate change is to begin at home," she suggested with innocent candor. "To reform your household, your estate, in the image you have in mind, and show the country, and the world, that such changes are both sustainable and economic."

"Ah, but in order to achieve such a thing, I would need the right partner," he countered, dropping yet another hint at his desire to marry someone who could be his equal in all things, and not just a source of financial security and a mother to his children.

"And, of course, there are many things to long for in order that a partner be the right partner," she teased, but the gentle pressure of her hand on his arm promised that she was not laughing at him. "A certain intelligence, carriage, form and figure; a particular profile, or silhouette, perhaps. After all, if the lady does not wear tailored corsets, she can hardly be expected to exercise her mind beyond the need to change her clothes."

"You are teasing me now," he said, smiling down at her, eyes shining with amusement. "Do you know what the first thing was that I noticed about you?" he asked, not waiting for an answer before continuing. "Your hair. I wanted to meet the woman who was brave enough to rebel against the fashion of the day and be wholly herself."

She laughed softly at his confession. "If only you could have heard the arguments that erupted when I refused to dye my hair for my second Season," she told him in amusement. "My first Season, I was the perfect brunette. I simply could not be bothered going through all that again the next year. The man I marry is marrying me, not my hair color. And I would rather not have to dye my hair for the rest of my life just to prevent him from divorcing me for marriage under false pretenses."

"Everyone is either blonde or brunette these days. Why would you want to be like everyone else when you can be yourself?" he asked, though it was yet another rhetorical question. He smiled as he looked down at her from his considerable height. "I have not seen you as a brunette, but I think I much prefer you as a redhead. It fits your spirit."

"Ah, so not only unfashionable, but spirited, too," she laughed. "My great-aunt would be horrified to hear you say so. But, alas, she much prefers my sister to myself, and so her opinion is not one I hunger for." She flickered her gaze to his, the tilt of her head drawing sunshine over her face once more. "Your good opinion is far more precious to me than hers."