Page 43 of His Lordship's True Lady
Another subtle caress. “Haven’t you had enough of being unrelentingly wise and proper? I certainly have. Also enough of being lonely.”
More than enough.“You must not say such things.” But if he must say them, how delightful that he’d say them to Lily.
He tugged the blanket from her grasp and folded it in a few brisk moves. “I am not a callow swain, to be deterred by your uncle’s pawing and snorting, and you are not a mere girl, incapable of forming your own opinions. Won’t you please come riding with me?”
Had he insisted, commanded, or assumed, Lily might have stood a chance. He asked—sincerely and politely.
“A short hack only, and I’ll bring my groom.”
“Of course you will. Meet me at the gate at six o’clock, and we’ll have the place to ourselves.”
“I’ll look forward to that, my lord.”
All the way home, Lily contemplated the folly of accepting Grampion’s invitation and decided that tomorrow’s outing with his lordship could be her last as easily as today’s.
What difference would one more gallop in the park make?
Lily returned Bronwyn to her parents and endured Miss Fotheringham’s lamentations about spring air and megrims. All the while, Lily considered a question: Uncle’s attempts to insinuate himself into the Kettering family’s good graces were no longer a secret, and yet, Grampion had asked for this outing in the park.
What had motivated Grampion’s invitation, and—novel, delicious, forbidden question—if he was intent on courting Lily, why shouldn’t she encourage his suit? Uncle wanted cordial relations with the Ketterings, and if Lily married the earl, Uncle would have exactly what he wanted.
As would—for once—Lily herself.
* * *
“You and I both prefer a certain order in life, a certain predictable progression of events,” Hessian said. “I’ve come to London to spend time with my family and to entertain the notion of remarrying, for example, as one does. Stop wringing your tail.”
Hammurabi left off whisking his tail around his quarters and instead hopped about on the alley’s cobbles. His idea of predictability was that a dawn ride meant a whacking great gallop. That he was still three streets away from Hyde Park, and might dash his rider’s brains out with his foolishness, apparently hadn’t penetrated his horsey awareness.
“Settle, you,” Hessian murmured. “We will soon be in the presence of ladies, and we both know better than to leap about and carry on at the mere prospect of female companionship.”
Ham’s restraint in this regard had been surgically enhanced, while all Hessian could call upon was years of self-discipline.
He had hoped that his initial interest in Lily Ferguson would calm to a more mature regard—hoped that he and she might become cordially bored with each other, from which perspective, marriage might be rationally contemplated.
Hessian’s dreams were full of contemplations so far from rational where Lily Ferguson was concerned, he might have again been a lad of fifteen lusting after the scullery maid.
“Though the present situation differs from my youthful longings in several particulars. We’re not cantering, damn you.” Though Hessian permitted his horse a brisk—very brisk—trot.
“I am not fifteen, Lily Ferguson is not a menial about whom I must banish any wayward thoughts, and even as I enjoy the lady’s company—greatly enjoy the lady’s company—I can also admit that I’m being ridiculous.”
Ham gave an energetic double kick out behind, snorted at nothing, and subsided into a gentlemanly gait.
“Kicking in public. You should be ashamed, you naughty boy.” Though fresh morning air generally made Ham frisky.
Flower-girls wrapped in thick cloaks yawned as they set up their stalls. Link-boys, lanterns extinguished, wearily searched for a quiet place to rest from the night’s labors, and dairymaids paused to visit with one another in misty alleys.
All was not right with the world—the Braithwaite woman had to be dealt with, for example—but in Hessian’s world, all was moving in the loveliest of directions.
“I am so inspired by the pleasure of my next appointment that I can admit—only to you, my trusted friend—that Worth was right to bludgeon me into coming to London for the Season. Jacaranda doubtless put him up to it.”
The gates of Hyde Park emerged from the thin fog, and Hessian brought his horse to the walk. “One must cling to a modicum of dignity, horse.”
Though with Lily, Hessian was increasingly unconcerned with dignity or posturing of any kind. He could be honest with Lily Ferguson—about his frustration and challenges, even his fears—and he loved that she was honest with him.
Esteemed her forthright nature, rather.
Respected her pragmatism.
