Susan Paul - Beguiled

“Are you enjoying the ride, Lady Lillian? What do you think of this mad crush?” He gestured with one hand toward the crowded lane.

She thought it wonderful, although it was, in all truth, quite silly for so many people to go parading about in the late afternoon, day after day after day. They’d been hailed and stopped by a number of elegants since they’d entered the park, some of them riding horseback, some of them perched high upon their fashionable phaetons, some riding in open carriages of varying elegance and size, and all of them desiring to be introduced to Isabel and her. Most of them had looked at her with dismay upon discovering that she didn’t speak and had quickly thereafter made their excuses and left, but Lily was used to that. Simply meeting such a variety of fashionable people had been an event, and she imagined herself back in Somerset, holding court before her awestruck friends while regaling them with memories of her time in London.

He was waiting for a reply, and Lily opened the little gold case that dangled from a bracelet at her wrist. She had forgotten to have it with her when she’d gone riding that morning, but had made certain to bring it for her drive in the park. Extracting one of the tiny sheets of paper and the small gold pen, she wrote, Wonderful. Better than Hassim’s Traveling Circus. She underlined circus twice and handed him the note, grinning with satisfaction when he burst into laughter.

“Dear me,” he said, chuckling as he passed the note to Isabel. “I shall have to see what I can do to give you ladies a much more favorable impression of Town. Tell me, are there any particular places in London that you should enjoy seeing?”

“The Tower!” Isabel said at once, while Lily scribbled another note.

“Vauxhall,” he read, slanting an amused glance at her, “and Madame Tussaud’s.”

“Oh, everywhere,” Isabel told him, her face filled with childlike earnestness. “We decided that long before we came, isn’t that so, Lily? If this is to be our only season in London, we want to see all there is to see, and do everything there is to do.”

“That’s quite a challenge, but I should be very glad if you would allow me to assist you in the matter,” Lord Graydon replied, “at least so far as I am able, when Parliament isn’t in session. Perhaps tomorrow, if you’re free, might I escort you both, and Lady Margaret, if she would enjoy such an outing, to the Tower of London? I should deem it an honor.”

“Oh, yes!” Isabel said with open delight. “How very kind of you, my lord! I’m certain Mama will wish to come.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll speak with Lady Margaret when we return to Wilborn Place.” A rider on a magnificent black horse neared their carriage, and Lord Graydon raised a hand in greeting. “Hello, Daltry. I wondered if we might meet you here.”

Lord Daltry, handsome in tan trousers and a black coat that hugged his large, muscular person to perfection, looked tense and uncomfortable as he brought his steed alongside the barouche. He made a slight bow in his saddle. “Good day Lady Lillian, Lady Isabel.” The glance he sent Isabel’s way was greeted with a frozen stare. “Graydon,” Lord Daltry continued stiffly, “I hope the day finds you well.”

“Quite well, I thank you,” Lord Graydon replied casually. “Despite the crowd, the park is rather pleasant this afternoon, don’t you agree?”

Lord Daltry didn’t seem interested in the park. He glanced at Isabel again and when she pointedly lifted her chin and looked away, he replied, “Yes.”

“If I’d known you’d be parading today I would have invited you to come along with us and make a foursome. I’m sure the ladies would have enjoyed having your company.”

Lily nodded and smiled. Isabel tapped the bottom of the carriage with her parasol and made a sound of disdain.

“As it happens…” Lord Daltry said, clearing his throat. “Ahem. As it happens, I’ve been reconsidering some of the remarks I made to Lady Isabel this morning, and it has occurred to me that…perhaps…an apology is in order.”

Isabel stopped tapping her parasol and looked him full in the face.

“Perhaps?” she asked.

“Ahem,” Lord Daltry said once more, looking so uncomfortable that Lily felt sorry for him. “No, not perhaps, exactly. I certainly owe you an apology, although you will admit that you provoked the situation and that we both made remarks any normal person would regret—”

Isabel cut him off. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but I do not, as it happens, regret one word that I said to you this morning. And I did not provoke the situation.”

“You most certainly did,” Lord Daltry returned more heatedly. “Riding your horse so recklessly that you might have broken your neck and lamed the animal. A more nitwitted display of horse handling I’ve yet to see.”

Isabel stamped her parasol so solidly on the barouche’s floor that Lily thought she’d poked a hole through it. “I had my mount completely under control, sir, and would have continued to do so if you hadn’t come charging out of nowhere and frightened the poor beast half to death!”

“That poor beast was already frightened,” Lord Daltry insisted. “If I hadn’t stopped you when I did—”

“Ah, Hanby,” Lord Graydon greeted loudly as another rider on horseback joined them. “Good day. Please, come and join our fracas.” His mild tone caused Lily to smile, as the situation was so ridiculous, and he turned back to her with a conspiratorial wink that nearly sent her into whoops of laughter.

“Good day, Graydon. Daltry. Fracas?” Lord Hanby repeated, lifting his tall hat from his nearly bald head just long enough to make his bow to the ladies. “I wished to greet Lady Isabel and Lady Lillian. Good day,” he said to Isabel, only briefly including Lily in his smile.

“Good day, my lord,” Isabel replied politely, ignoring Lord Daltry’s immense scowl as she leaned past him to smile at Lord Hanby. “My, what a fine mare. She looks wonderful to ride.”

Lord Hanby flushed with obvious pleasure, and sat up straighter in his saddle, although it did nothing to heighten the look of his short, slender person. Beside Lord Daltry, Lord Hanby looked almost elfin.

“She is indeed,” he agreed with unabashed pride. “She’s but one of the finest in my stable that I brought to Town for the season. One day you must allow me to take you riding, Lady Isabel. I should be very happy to provide you with a mount that I believe you’ll find quite exceptional.”

“I wouldn’t, Hanby, if I were you,” Lord Daltry muttered.

Isabel glared at him before replying to Lord Hanby sweetly, “Lily and I would like that exceedingly, my lord. Thank you.”

Lord Hanby glanced at Lily, their eyes meeting for the briefest of seconds before he turned back to Isabel. “Will you be at Lady Pebworth’s ball tonight, Lady Isabel? I would very much like to reserve a dance with you, if I might.”

“Hah,” Lord Daltry remarked as if he’d never heard anything more foolish.

Isabel gifted Lord Hanby with her most dazzling smile—the one that had slain more men in Somerset than Lily could keep count of. Lord Hanby fell beneath its effect at once, leaning toward Isabel on his saddle until he met with Lord Daltry’s hard elbow.

“You honor me, my lord. Lily and I would both be very glad to reserve a dance with you, if you would only tell us which dances you prefer.”

Oh, Isabel, Lily thought with a groan. She couldn’t tell who was more red-faced, she or Lord Hanby, who was suddenly at a loss for words. Beside her, Lily saw Lord Graydon’s hand tighten upon his walking stick, and she wondered, with a sinking heart, if he was embarrassed to be seen in her presence. She was used to being treated as though she were invisible, but to others, especially to a person with a kind heart such as Lord Graydon possessed, the experience might seem terribly unpleasant.