Page 9 of Romancing A Wallflower
Lilian nodded. “I should be pleased to accompany you, sir, if…” She looked up at her mother. “Mama?”
“Lord Harlow, of course, nothing could be more acceptable.” The Countess beamed. “Do not forget your pelisse, my dear. There is a slight chill in the air today,” she added, accepting the flowers from Lilian.
“Lady Lydia, these are for you,” Yarstone spoke, holding out his spray to Lilian’s twin.
“Oh my, white roses! They are so beautiful.” Lady Lydia sniffed them and smiled at the Viscount.
“Lady Lydia, it is a pleasant day. I was hoping…would you care to join me for a ride in my phaeton?” Lord Yarstone shifted on his feet, seemingly nervous.
The Countess did not wait for her daughter to answer. “She would indeed, sir. You are very kind to so indulge her. You gentlemen have chosen a beautiful day for a turn about the park.” She accepted Lydia’s flowers and cast a quick look at Lilian.
“Do try not to get into trouble, my dears,” she chided gently.
Harlow caught the look of hope in Lady Avalon’s eyes. He could only imagine the strain that the family had been under these past many months. A pang of guilt attacked his heart. He still had not determined the origin of the shot which had caused the accident and try as he might, could not shake the fear that his earlier inquiries in Tintagel connected him to this tragedy.
“We will return in two hours, my lady.” he offered.
The Countess looked warily at him. “A footman will assist Lady Lilian into the carriage, sir.” She tugged on a rope near the settee. A knock on the door quickly followed it and Winston entered on his mistress’ command.
“It appears we shall have a beautiful day together. Shall we adjourn to the park, ladies?” Lord Yarstone held the parlour door open for the group to depart, a look of unbridled delight in his eyes. He held out his arm to Lydia, and the two of them led the small group to the phaeton and curricle waiting outside.
“Wait! Cook sent this for you, m’ladies.” Clara came scurrying behind them with another maid, each carrying a picnic basket and a blanket. “In case you become hungry,” she added, smiling at the two young ladies.
“Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Clara,” Lilian said kindly. “Lord Harlow, Clara is our maid.”
Harlow nodded. “That was very nice of you, Clara.”
“Now, be off with you or the day will be done afore you get there!” Clara adjoined, waving to the four of them as they pulled away from the house.
I will let nothing mar this day, Harlow thought to himself. His stomach contracted when he glanced at the beautiful woman sitting beside him, and he allowed a small smile to shape his mouth. His mother would be pleased, and he should be happy, and he would be, if he could quell the agitation he felt roiling in the pit of his stomach.
Chapter 5
It was a wonderful day for a picnic in Richmond Park. Except for a few words about perhaps partaking of a picnic together, the foursome agreed to join forces and enjoy the scenery in tandem. Except for minimal pleasantries, conversation between Lilian and Harlow faded into a comfortable silence as they enjoyed the park.
There was only the slightest chill in the air, but this year the weather seemed a little cooler than normal. Considering the extreme cold of last winter, when the Thames froze hard enough for an elephant to walk across—at least that was what she had been told—it could not surprise her. Ordinary folk were out walking, reading books under trees, and eating lunches, without the perpetual, inconvenient rain or the heat of the summer.
Lilian snuggled into her lightweight pelisse. She wished Mama had not made such a fuss about her taking a wrap. She felt Lord Harlow might then have lent her his coat, something she felt sure would have warmed her clear to her toes. Thanks to Mama, she was left to warm herself.
It was a time to see and be seen. Almost a year had passed since her last such carriage ride through park, and it had been Hyde Park. Life had been different, then. Lydia and Lord Yarstone kept to their word and stayed either alongside or not far in front. Lord Yarstone’s red phaeton enjoyed a good deal of attention, a circumstance that gladdened Lilian—her sister welcomed the acclaim that she no longer wished to have. It provided a false feeling of obscurity, which Lilian, not so secretly, appreciated.
“Lady Lilian, may I have leave to call you by your given name?” Lord Harlow broke the silence. He lightly touched her gloved right hand.
Heat from his touch coiled through the core of her body, creating an unfamiliar feeling, but one she could not find disagreeable.
“I would like that, Lord Harlow…” she responded.
“John,” he retorted, before she could finish. “Please call me John. Are you warm enough?” he added.
Lilian looked down at the hand he had covered with his own and realized she had hugged herself with it. How embarrassing! What must he think of her, reacting thus to his touch?
“I am warm, thank you…my…John,” she answered haltingly while she studied him with curiosity. “Why are we here? I mean, why did you ask me? I am a wallflower. You could have had your pick of any young lady at the ball.”
“I picked you.” He lifted an eyebrow in ironic question.
Her stomach did a small flip. Lilian looked down at her hands and barely whispered.
“My lord, you flatter me. I am no longer used to such frivolity. I apologize if you deem my questions ill-mannered.”
