Page 12 of Let Me Be Your Hero
“What is it?” Lucy asked.
“Do you see that burgundy carriage? It looks like a hackney—it’s scraped up, and you can tell there was once a crest that’s been removed from the door.”
Izzie squinted across the field. “What about it?”
“I saw it at Hyde Park Corner and again when we went past the parade grounds,” Diana said. “I think it’s following us.”
“Following us?” Lucy asked. “Surely not. What could they want with three girls feeding the ducks?”
“One of those girls happens to be the richest heiress in London,” Izzie noted. She was referring to Diana. Over her protests that it would do nothing but attract fortune-hunters, her brother, the duke, had insisted on settling an absurdly large dowry of one hundred thousand pounds upon her. This was inaddition to the fortune she would one day inherit from her aunt Griselda, which was probably worth twice that.
Lucy smiled as she tossed bread into the water. “You two have been reading too many Gothic novels. We’ve a pair of footmen and your aunt Griselda. What could possibly happen?”
“Hmm,” Diana said, frowning as the carriage pulled to a halt some fifty yards down the river. Four men piled out.
Diana’s shoulders relaxed a trifle when the men started skipping rocks across the water.
Izzie glanced back toward the landau. Lady Griselda was still sleeping soundly.
This was her chance.
She turned to her companions. “I need your advice.”
She had already told Lucy in hushed whispers what had transpired last night between her and Mr. Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy. Now, she filled Diana in on what had really occurred in the dark walks.
“He’ll be there tonight. At Lady Waldegrave’s ball. I would very much like to kiss him again. But I’m not sure how to arrange it.”
“He’ll ask you to dance,” Lucy said.
Izzie rubbed her brow. “I’m not sure that he will. He’s never asked me to dance before.”
“Of course, he will,” Diana said encouragingly. “And then you can complain of being overheated and ask him to take you for a turn about the balcony.”
Izzie wrung her hands. “But what if he doesn’t?” It wasn’t like her to be such a sheep’s heart.
But she found that she cared what Mr. Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy thought of her in a way that she hadn’t with any other man.
“Then you’ll have to flirt with him,” Diana said, taking a handful of bread and scattering it before a pair of passing swans.
She said this as if it were a simple matter, but Izzie found herself at a loss. She was far more accustomed to terrifying men by stating her forthright and often unflattering opinions.
“I haven’t much experience with flirting,” she admitted. “Before last night, I hadn’t found a man I considered to be worthy of flirting with.”
“Oh!” Diana looked surprised. “Well, Lucy knows how to do it.”
“What? Me?” Lucy jerked her head around, startled. “I haven’t the faintest clue.”
Diana put her hand upon her hip. “How many proposals have you received this Season?”
Lucy waved this off. “Just six. But that doesn’t mean I know how toflirt.”
“Well, you must be doing something right,” Diana argued.
“It’s her natural disposition,” Izzie said. “Everyone flocks to Lucy.”
While Izzie was naturally acerbic, her twin was as sweet as spun sugar. Lucy didn’t have to try to flirt because Lucy was naturally interested in people and genuinely thought highly of everyone she met. Men felt flattered when she hung on their every word and peppered them with questions about their interests and accomplishments. Little did they know that Lucy treated the scullery maids the same way. It was just who she was.
Izzie loved her sister more than anything, but she did worry about her. She was far too trusting. The six men who had offered for her had been a mixture of fortune hunters and puffed-up buffoons, and Lucy would have accepted every one of them had Izzie not sat her down and explained precisely why those men were not worthy of her.
