Page 14 of Earl Crazy
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“My goodness,Tilly! Must you charge across the churchyard like a horse out of the gate?” Phee caught her arm and tugged Tilly back to her side. “What has you in such a hurry?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all, I just, er…” Tilly cast a surreptitious look at Harriett. Alas, Harriett wasn’t as practiced at intrigue as one might wish, and only gave her a wide-eyed look in return. “It’s just that London is so exciting, is it not? There are so many fashionable people!”
Phee frowned. “Fashionable? Since when have you ever cared one whit about fashion? You’ve always claimed it’s the dullest thing imaginable.”
Shedidn’tcare about fashions, but really, it was excessively tedious of Phee to always be so observant. “Since I came to London, of course. There’s not much point in being interested in fashions in Hambleden, is there?”
Phee didn’t look convinced, but Lady Fosberry gave an indulgent laugh. “Just so, Tilly. One must be terribly elegant at St. George’s of a Sunday, or suffer the scorn of theton.”
“Which gentleman do you think the most fashionable, Harriett?” Tilly gave Harriett a nudge. If they were going to secure an introduction to Lord Wyle before the first ball of the season, this was their best chance.
“Oh! Everyone is terribly elegant, are they not?” Harriett hesitated, a pretty pink flush flooding her cheeks as she cast a shy glance toward Lord Wyle. “But that gentleman, just there, in the navy frock coat, with the striped waistcoat looks particularly well.”
At least half a dozen gentleman within shouting distance were wearing navy frock coats and striped waistcoats, but by some magical powers of deduction, Lady Fosberry knew precisely which gentleman Harriett was referring to.
“My dear Harriett, you could hardly have chosen better. That gentleman is Lord Wyle, and he’s the pinnacle of elegance. Every young lady in London this season has set her heart on him.” Lady Fosberry took Harriett’s arm. “Come along, and I’ll introduce you to him.”
Tilly linked her arm with Phee’s and went to hurry after them, but Phee, who had little use for gentlemen, particularly fashionable ones, held back. “We can’t just accost the man.”
“Don’t be silly. We’re not going to accost him, only…” She trailed off, her eye catching on a knot of young gentlemen gathered near the front entrance of the church.
Phee was right— she wasn’t interested in fashions, and even less interested in fashionable gentlemen, especially peacocks like these, but theywereextraordinarily pretty, and it wasn’t in her nature—or indeed, any young lady’s nature—to ignore a crowd of pretty gentlemen.
They were all dressed in the latest fashions, but one gentleman stood out from the rest. He was a head taller than the others surrounding him, and wore a flawlessly tailored olive green coat that accentuated his muscular shoulders, and a pair of tight-fitting cream-colored pantaloons that accentuated his…well, nothing a proper young lady should take notice of, that was certain.
He was dressed just as a young gentleman should be, without the extravagant embroidered silk and fussy laces some gentlemen affected, and he had the loveliest auburn hair as well, the ends of the thick, wavy locks just visible under the brim of his black silk top hat. It was an unusual dark russet shade, highlighted with plentiful strands of the most charming red gold, rather like…
Oh. Oh,no. Dear God.
It couldn’t be, could it? Surely, she’d made a mistake?
But no. Itcouldbe him. Itwashim. There was no mistake. If the breadth of his shoulders hadn’t given him away, then the straight, aristocratic nose and angular jaw certainly did.
The drunkard, the rake, the scoundrel from last night who’d accused her of being a prostitute was standing on the corner of St. George and Maddox Streets, fresh from his Sunday prayers, looking like an auburn-haired angel in his smart olive green coat.
God above, who was he? A gentleman, certainly, or rather, a wicked rake with theappearanceof a gentleman. But when had that ever made a difference to theton?
Whatever—or whoever—he was, he mustn’t see her. “Would you mind terribly if we returned to the carriage, Phee? I’ve a sudden headache.”
“Oh, dear. You do look a bit pale.” Phee took her arm and hurried her toward the carriage. Fortunately, Lady Fosberry’s driver was nearby, and they made it through the throng and into the safety of the carriage without attracting any attention.
Tilly breathed out a sigh of relief as she tucked herself into the corner of the seat, taking care to keep her face away from the window. Dear God, that had been a near thing! Why, they’d been less than two paces from him. It was a miracle he hadn’t seen her. If they’d tarried even a moment longer in the church-yard, he certainly would have, and then what?
Scandal, that’s what, and what a delicious one it would be. The youngest of the infamous Templeton sisters, cavorting with a drunken gentleman atnight, in a deserted cottage, not a single day after she’d arrived in London!
That wasn’t what had happened, of course, but that’s how the gossips would tell it. Once again, the Templetons would be humiliated, and Phee’s heart…oh, Phee’s poor, fragile heart would be broken.
Oh,whyhadn’t she left him where he’d fallen last night? Whoever had said a good deed never went unpunished had the right of it!
“Well, my dears, that was a triumph!” Lady Fosberry announced when she and Harriett returned to the carriage. “Lord Wyle was quite taken with Harriett. He’s attending my ball on Tuesday evening, of course, and he insisted she save him a dance. You must write to James, Harriett, and tell him of your success!”
Harriett’s cheeks went pink. “I will, Aunt, though I’m sure Lord Wyle would have asked the same of any young lady.”
“Nonsense. He admired you, child. I can always tell.”
Harriett flushed up to the roots of her hair. “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” She said no more, but turned to gaze out the window, a dreamy smile on her lips.
