Page 14 of The Secret Word
Clem realized her mouth was opened and took it back under her control to say, “I see. And how many times have you driven donkey carts, may I ask?”
“Perhaps a dozen? There are some similarities, Clem.”
“Yes,” Mr. Bagshaw agreed. “Horses and donkeys both have four legs and a tail. And a donkey cart and a phaeton both have four wheels.”
“You are not helping, John,” Chris retorted, and Mr. Bagshaw laughed again.
At least it is not a high-perch phaeton. Yes, and the horses were calm in traffic and not inclined to be restive.
“That reminds me,” said Chris. “Do you ride, Miss Wright? I suggested a phaeton because I thought it would be easier to talk, but if you ride, I could hire horses tomorrow instead.”
“Better to use the phaeton, dear boy,” said Mr. Bagshaw. “You could use the practice.”
“I have never learned to ride,” Clem admitted. “Father could not see the point.”
“The point,” said Mr. Bagshaw, “is to see and be seen. In the country, I grant you, we ride because it is a pleasure, and also often the fastest way from place to place. In London, we ride to be seen and admired. Who has the finest seat? Who the best top hat? Who the most expensive horse? Your father, if you will forgive me for saying so, Miss Wright, does not know how the game is played.”
“No,” Clem agreed. “He does not.”
“And here we are at Green Park,” said Chris, with satisfaction. “Go and find a bench to sit on, John. We don’t need you.”
“Cheeky!” Mr. Bagshaw retorted, laughing. “Your tutor should cane you, boy.” He negotiated the gateway and drew the horses up out of the way of any other carriages.
Chris laughed back. “I’d like to see you try.” He leapt down from the back and came round to Mr. Bagshaw’s side of the phaeton, then the two men changed places. “Don’t become so distracted by the lovely lady that you forget to mind your horses,” Mr. Bagshaw reminded him.
Lovely lady, indeed. Clem restrained herself from snorting.
The horses started off again without any trouble. Clem said nothing, not wanting to distract Chris from driving, but he had no such qualms. “You are, you know,” he said. “I saw your expression when John called you lovely, but you are wrong tothink he dissembles. You are not in the common way of what people call ‘pretty’, I’ll grant you. But your eyes are fine, your complexion is excellent, your hair is becomingly dressed for the first time since I met you, and I particularly like your determined chin.”
On the whole, Clem had no time for compliments, which usually sounded as if the speaker had copied them out of a book, and was bound and determined to repeat them whether or not they were appropriate to the recipient.
This one was different, for the features he mentioned were the very ones with which she sometimes consoled herself. Her eyes were a boring blue, yes, but they were bright and well-shaped, with long full lashes. As for her skin, it was clear and pale.
The comment about the hair was true, too, and honest. And he liked her determined chin!
“Thank you.” It was all she could think of to say, but then her most obvious flaws crowded into her consciousness, demanding to be recognized. “I am short and portly.” Bother! She hadn’t meant to blurt out the words.
“You are diminutive and shapely, though I must say one usually has difficulty seeing your shape past all the frilly stuff.”
“Flounces and ruffles,” she informed him, her mind repeating the wordsdiminutiveandshapely. “My chaperone says they are fashionable. Martha says they make me look wider and shorter. She took the flounce off this gown.”
“Martha is being helpful?” Chris asked.
“We had a little chat. I promised to keep her secrets from my father if she kept mine from him. We are getting along well now. I should have put my foot down with her weeks ago.” She smiled at him, though he wouldn’t see it, for he had his eyes on the horses. “I owe you my thanks for bringing to my attention how to deal with her.”
“I’m glad I could be of service.”
“Again. I have not forgotten you saved me from the Brown brothers.”
Chris shot her one of his cheerful grins. “Again, then. And whenever you need me, really. Have you thought any more about what we discussed yesterday? Do you have any further questions for me?”
Clem had thought about little else. “Why me?” she asked. “Why do you want to marry me? Is it just…”
He had put up a hand to stop her, and she would rather that he kept both his hands firmly on the reins. “It is not just your dowry. And I am not delighted at the prospect of the ongoing battle with your father to keep my soul intact and to protect you. But I think it will be worth it.”
“Protect me?” What on earth did he mean by that? Who did he think she needed to be protected from?
“Clem,” he said, and somehow the fact that he sounded exasperated made him all the more convincing. “Clem, if we marry, if you become my wife, it will be my duty and my honor to put you at the center of my life. I haven’t seen that many successful marriages, and heaven knows my own parents’ marriage was a primer in what not to do, but I have seen enough to know that a man and a woman who want to be happy together must each put the other first. It will be my job, my privilege, and my honor to protect and defend you from any threats. That includes your father. I will not allow him to bully or manipulate you, and I fully expect explosions over the matter.”
