Page 22 of Leap of Faith
“Where will they make their first public appearance?” Rotham asked, thankfully drawing the conversation onto another avenue.
“That will depend on when their new wardrobes are completed, though I have a feeling the youngest will do her best to convince me to take her to Astley’s, the ’Change or the Tower before the week is out!”
“You mean to squire them about?” Freddy asked with disbelief.
“Some.”
His three friends stared at him as though he’d sprouted horns.
“What about the widow Taylor? She won’t like any attention being diverted from her,” Montford pointed out about Dominic’s latest flirt.
“She won’t mind if she knows what’s good for her,” Rotham said, knowing how much Dominic loathed female tantrums.
“Jealousy is a dead bore,” he agreed.
“But every man in Town is after her. She won’t like it,” Freddy prophesied.
“Then she may have her congé. There are always other flirts to be had.”
The looks on his friends’ faces were priceless. He managed to keep a straight face. Jemima Taylor was a buxom beauty, but she wanted marriage. And Dominic believed that her beauty did not compensate for her bird-witted intellect. “Would you have me shirk my duty? Of course, it is not convenient to be in such a situation, but I am in honour bound to do the best for them.”
“Yes, yes, certainly,” they agreed, though seemed to think differently.
“Perhaps we should help you with them,” Freddy said.
“You just want a head start on everyone else!” Montford scowled.
“There are plenty to go around!” Rotham assured them.
“This grows tedious! I, for one, do not intend to allow them to affect my normal pursuits. Since I missed my ride this morning, would anyone be in the mood for a bit of sparring?” Dominic intended to do something besides discuss his wards.
“As long as you’re not angry,” Freddy said, rubbing his jaw. “I can still feel that last left hook from weeks ago!”
“You have to learn to feint, my boy,” Rotham remarked and then grimaced.
“What is it?”
“Sir Julian Wright. But there is no time for escape.”
The leader of the pinks of thetonpranced over in his dashing primrose pantaloons, Damask waistcoat with saucer-sized gold buttons, high shirt points, and white-topped Hessians with fringed tassels.
“Lord Westwood, is it true?”
“Be so good as to inform me as to what you refer?”
“Beauties! I heard you inherited a whole gaggle of them.”
“I do have some wards,” he said carefully, wondering why Sir Julian cared.
“When will they be introduced?”
“When Lady Westwood sees fit to do so.” Dominic stood. He had no intention of obliging this fool with any fodder for gossip or whatever it was he was fishing for. “Excuse us, we were just on our way out.”
They gathered their hats and capes and began walking towards Jackson’s, but stopped on the pavement.
“Why do you think the popinjay is interested in your wards?” Montford asked.
“I cannot begin to fathom.”
