Page 15 of Earl Crazy
Tilly glanced over Harriett’s shoulder. The knot of young gentlemen had moved to the corner of St. George’s Street, where the carriages slowed just before making the turn onto Maddox Street. There, so close she could touch him if she thrust her hand out the window, was the mysterious, auburn-haired gentleman.
Who was he? She had to know,now.
She cast a furtive glance at Phee, but she was lost in her own thoughts, her gaze on her hands in her lap, and Harriett was similarly occupied with her daydreams of Lord Wyle.
Neither of them were paying any attention to Tilly.
Their carriage was next in the queue to make the turn. In another moment, she’d lose sight of the man. This was her best chance, and she’d be a fool not to seize it. So, she leaned close to Lady Fosberry, and whispered, “Who is that gentleman, just there on the corner?”
Lady Fosberry peered out the window. “Which gentleman? There are half a dozen of them.”
“The one with the auburn hair, in the olive green coat.”
“Where? I don’t see—” Lady Fosberry broke off with a soft gasp. “My goodness. I didn’t expect to seehimin London this season.”
The carriage turned then, and Tilly was obliged to crane her neck to get a last glimpse of the gentleman as they made their way down Maddox Street. “Who? Who is he?”
“My dear girl,thatis Christopher Egan.”
Egan, Egan…where had she heard that name before?
“The Earl of Prestwick,” Lady Fosberry added.
“That’sthe Earl of Prestwick?” Tilly fell back against the seat, her stomach quivering like a jelly.
“He is, indeed, since his uncle died unexpectedly last year. A duel, you know. Rather a tragedy, as he was quite young, but then the Prestwick gentlemen do tend to expire before their time.” Lady Fosberry gave her a sly smile. “Do you think him handsome, Mathilda?”
What a question! Or could it even be called a question at all, when there was only one conceivable answer? Whatever else Lord Prestwick might be—rake, scoundrel, drunkard—he was undeniably handsome.
But then, beauty and wickedness often went hand in hand, and it seemed that was never more true than with Lord Prestwick. “It hardly matters what I think. But didn’t you say he wouldn’t be in London this season?”
“I didn’t think he would be. Indeed, it’s entirely out of character. Now he’s here, I must remember to send him an invitation to my ball.”
“The ball?” Dear God, that dreadful incident in the garden was quickly becoming the stuff of nightmares. “Butwhymust you?”
“Oh, our families have known each other for years. Kit—the Earl of Prestwick, I mean, but he’s always been Kit to me—was great friends with my nephew James when they were younger. I’m tremendously fond of him. He was a kind, decent boy, but like every Prestwick before him, he turned wicked.”
Oh, so very wicked! Not a single rogue in London could hold a candle to the Earl of Prestwick.
“I can’t imagine what he’s doing here, unless he…” Lady Fosberry trailed off, her brow puckering.
“Unless?”
“Hmm? Oh, nothing, dear. Nothing at all.”
It didn’t look like nothing. It looked likesomething.
“I wonder…” Lady Fosberry began, but once again, she trailed off.
“What? What do you wonder?”
“Hmm?” Lady Fosberry startled, as if she’d forgotten Tilly was there. “Oh, nothing, dear. Nothing at all.”
ChapterFive
“Idon’t know if I can do this, Tilly.” Harriett stared at her reflection in the looking-glass, her chin wobbling. “My stomach is all aflutter.”
“Thank you, Maria,” Tilly murmured to the lady’s maid who’d been helping her and Harriett prepare for the ball. “You may go.”
