Page 26 of Unending Joy
Outside, the garden was sharply green, the sky turning to violet. In the glass, her reflection was unchanged—bold, a little strange, wholly herself.
She rather thought she could live with that.
Westwood did indeed come backto Town, but it was not Joy who was first scolded, but Freddy.
“How could you tempt her to race, Cunningham?” Lord Westwood demanded, stalking across the breakfast room as though he meant to challenge Freddy to pistols at dawn.
Freddy, who had been attempting to butter a crumpet, paused with knife in mid-air and the distinct sensation of being a fox cornered on the hunt.
“I hardly tempted her,” he said mildly. “She very nearlyorderedme to race her. I daresay you could not have stopped her with a regiment of dragoons.” Though perhaps it had been he who had sped upon her, after all.
“Don’t be flippant,” Westwood snapped. “You are the gentleman in this business.”
Freddy abandoned the crumpet with a loud sigh. “If you have ever tried to dissuade Miss Joy Whitford from a madcap idea, you would know it requires divine intervention. Or a sedative.”
“She is my ward!”
“And a grown woman,” Freddy retorted. “Not a porcelain doll.”
“No, porcelain dolls do not scandalize theentirepark by racing through it in a curricle, laughing like a lunatic! I have had three letters already, each more insufferable than the last. Lady Bexley says Joy has ‘the constitution of a stable boy and the manners of one as well.’”
Freddy did his utmost not to smile. “Her manners can be quite good.”
Westwood’s nostrils flared. “You find thisamusing?”
“Not at all,” Freddy lied. “I am properly ashamed. Mortified, even. Deeply repentant.”
“You are smirking.”
“I am blessed with unfortunate cheekbones. They rest in a smile.”
At that moment, the butler cleared his throat in the doorway. “My lord, Lords Rotham and Montford and Major Stuart have arrived.”
“Oh, splendid,” Freddy muttered. “Let us make this a tribunal.”
Westwood pinched the bridge of his nose.
Moments later, Rotham strode in with the easy confidence of a man who would one day be a duke. Montford followed, looking faintly concerned as always, and Stuart brought up the rear with his military bearing.
“Good God,” Rotham said, taking in Freddy’s expression. “Who died?”
“Apparently, Joy’s reputation,” Freddy replied. “And I was the assassin.”
“Oh, the race,” Rotham said, sinking into a chair. “I heard about the bets made. You took Rotten Row by storm.”
“Gentlemen, I called you here because I find myself in a rather untenable position.” Westwood snapped.
“Yes,” Montford said gravely. “You are the guardian of a creature forged of wind and rebellion.”
“And kittens,” Freddy added.
Westwood growled. He turned to the others. “Her antics are growing wilder. One cannot help but fear what may come next. And now—now—I shall have toincrease her dowry.”
Freddy’s head jerked up. “Wait, why?”
“Because gentlemen do not queue up to marry wild mares, that is why! She is beautiful, yes, but she is also untamed. Half thetonthinks she is a scandal waiting to happen. The other half thinks shealready has.”
Freddy coughed delicately. “You say that as if it is a flaw.”
