by Tessa Candle
Lydia blushed a little more deeply, but smiled.
“I did not know you were such a renowned equestrian.” Tilly turned to her. “We could go out riding in Hyde Park some time, you know. My father keeps a few riding horses in town.”
“Nothing would give me greater pleasure, but I had no idea that you rode.”
“Well, another thing we have in common.” Tilly's grin was just a little too enthusiastic. “Although I am afraid I shall not be hopping any fences. Shall we go riding one afternoon—Thursday, if the weather permits? I believe Mr. DeGroen might be persuaded to come out with us.”
“That sounds a delightful outing. I hope the weather obliges you.” Rutherford looked very pleased with himself.
When Rutherford had taken his leave, Tilly whispered to Lydia, “Actually, I do not ride at all.”
“Then why on earth did you suggest it?”
“You can give me some lessons. I could not miss the opportunity of dropping the information of our plans and our whereabouts into the ear of Lord Aldley's good friend. And if Lord Aldley should happen to go riding in Hyde Park next Thursday afternoon, then I believe we shall have to start picking out the lace for your wedding gown.”
“Good Lord, not more lace. But you are quite terrifyingly clever. I should never have thought of it.”
“You are far too sweet to be conniving. That flaw will no doubt be purged once you have had more experience in town—or once you become a countess, whichever should come first.”
Chapter 17
The worn wooden bench of the fencing club's toilette room gleamed in the light from the high windows. The air was a heady mixture of manly sweat and the perfumes and pomades administered by the servants. Aldley mopped his face with a towel and let his valet begin dressing him.
He had needed a workout to burn off some of the coal Miss Norwood had lit inside of him. A little fencing was just the thing. Rutherford was a natural athlete, and had almost lazily countered him at every point. Aldley had improved greatly since taking expert lessons in Paris, but he was still no match for his friend.
However Aldley could not repine, his heart was too full for unhappy thoughts and anyway, there were few men in London that Rutherford could not best with foils. Aldley consoled himself that he was still a much better shot than his Corinthian friend.
“I cannot believe you just happened to run into her at Hatchards, of all places. And she was actually looking for a piece on Mary Anning's fossils?” Aldley shook his head at Rutherford, as their valets perfected their cravats and gave a final brush to their jackets.
“Indeed. She was with an acquaintance, a Miss Ravelsham. I was happy for the introduction. And I overheard Miss Norwood explaining the true identity of bezoar stones to her friend, rather humorously.” Rutherford laughed. “I believe the pair of them are two little mischiefs.”
“A curious mind and a playful disposition. She has so many facets.” Aldley could not help the stupid smile on his face.
“She is no longer to be dismissed as a blue-stocking, then?” Rutherford's nonplussed facial expression was designed to mock.
“I should never have said such a thing and I shall thank you not to mention it again.” Aldley knew very well that he adored the philosophical turn to Miss Norwood's mind. It was yet another aspect of her sweet singularity.
“Well, just as you please.” Rutherford grinned. “Her friend, Miss Ravelsham, is a stunner. She has the face of an angel, but her pert little smile looks just like the devil set his fishing hook at its corner and gave it a tug. And there is a naughty flash in her eye. I admit I am utterly fascinated.”
Aldley smiled and shook his head. “I am sure you misrepresent the young lady.”
“Anyway,” Rutherford continued, unperturbed, “Miss Norwood and all of her many facets will be on glittering display in Hyde park next Thursday afternoon, weather permitting. She and her lovely friend will make an outing, if you are interested.”
“Indeed? Her father is not going to let her go out without a chaperone, I hope.” It was an alarming thought. In fact Aldley was beginning to think she should have an armed guard.
“The plan is that her friend and her betrothed shall be with her.” Rutherford stretched his arms.
“Her betrothed?” Aldley suddenly paled.
“Miss Ravelsham's betrothed, that is.” Rutherford rolled his eyes.
“Ah.”
“Not to worry, Aldley. No one has got there before you.”
“Oh do shut up.” Aldley could not help smiling. He had completely lost his ability to affect noble boredom and he no longer cared. Anyway, he knew Rutherford was not fooled by his masquerade of indifference, so there was little point in maintaining it.
“Someone has got there before me, however.” Rutherford's face hardened. “I hope the man deserves her.”
“You can speak this way after a quarter hour's conversation in a book shop?” It was Aldley's turn to mock.
“I see what you mean. It is a foolish fancy.” Rutherford paused for a moment to sigh and run his hand through his hair, to the visible irritation of Smythe whose fingers twitched. “In any case, I imagine they will also have at least a groom with them, for they intend to go riding.”
“Riding. I see.” Aldley's good humour dwindled.
“So you could go see her there, but you would be at rather a disadvantage if you were not on horseback.”
“I do not believe that falling and breaking one's neck is the best way to make a favourable impression.”
“True. Well, you could simply not go.” Rutherford permitted Smythe to fix his hair again. “I am sure you have many other things to do, and Delacroix probably will not accost her with so many people around her.”
“Probably is not good enough. I have some fellows looking into his whereabouts, but no one has yet been able to locate him. I am sure he is still in London, though.”
“Not to change the subject, but your speaking of making enquiries has jogged my memory. I have some news from Venice.”
“Indeed?”
“My acquaintances have located Essington. He is gravely ill and at times quite delirious.” Rutherford grimaced. “He was in some rancid little hovel adjacent an opium den.”
Aldley gasped in disgust. “Good Lord. But he is still alive.”
“Yes, but getting him to leave may take some doing.” Rutherford wrinkled his nose into a sneer. “The fool refused assistance.”
“Well, they are strangers to him. I may have to travel there, myself, to retrieve him.” The thought did not at all appeal to Aldley.
Rutherford scoffed, “Does he not have friends that might be prevailed upon to travel to him?”
“Perhaps, but discretion is of the utmost importance. Frankly I care not if he rots for the way he has treated my sister, but he must rot by the mode which creates the least shame for his wife and child.”
“The timing could not be worse.” Rutherford shook his head. “Recollect that you have just invited Miss Norwood to your mother's ball. You cannot leave her there stranded.”
Aldley sighed in frustration. “If I leave this evening, I can be back in time.”
“If you travelled there, found him, packed him up, turned around and travelled immediately back, with good weather for the crossings, you might even have an opportunity to change your clothes before the ball. A surfeit of time, really. I do not know why there is any question.”
“You exaggerate. I do not suppose you would accompany me.” Aldley looked hopefully at his friend.
“And leave no one to stand in your stead at the ball, in the,” Rutherford laughed, “unlikely event that you do not return on time? Besides, without my assistance, the cur is more likely to die. Only bring some others with you—a doctor and attendant.” Rutherford ran his hand through his hair again, and Smythe huffed audibly. “I believe my doctor, Kellerman, might be willing.”
“Yes, I can see you are indifferent as to his living or dying. But is it as bad as all that?”<
br />
“He has putrid wounds. It is not a case of merely sleeping off his profligacy.”
“If you are here, perhaps you could watch over Miss Norwood and her companions on Thursday. I shall have my people who are hunting for Delacroix report to you, if you will be my proxy.”
“You may rely upon me. A ride in the park is a bit tame for me, but I should relish an opportunity to see Miss Ravelsham again.”
“And meet her fiancé.”
Rutherford only pulled a face.
“I knew I could count on you, my friend.” Aldley cocked a cheeky brow. “Aside from my valet, there is no one I rely upon more.”
“Only take care that you are be back in town before the ball. I do not relish her ladyship's barbs any more than will Miss Norwood.”
Aldley's mood was ruined, but one could not shirk family obligations, even under the supreme temptation of the lovely Miss Norwood.
Chapter 18
The sunlight warmed Lydia's back, and the birds sang sweetly in the trees lining their path through the park. The air was a little cool, but lightly infused with the green scent of freshly cut grass. Gentle breezes stirred the lace of her bonnet, tickling her cheek as though Demeter were caressing her daughter.
She beamed at Tilly. “What marvellous weather for a ride.” It was not as much fun as racing through the woods on Ari, but it was good to be on a horse again. The plodding pace was soothing, and it amused her to see Tilly so out of her element.
“Yes, the weather, at least, is marvellous.” Tilly shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. “But I cannot fathom how you can find this exercise enjoyable.”
“It is far more enjoyable if you are not riding side-saddle. In a world of stupid rules, that must be one of the stupidest. I never ride side-saddle in the country.”
“I think polite folk are deeply disturbed by the spectacle of a woman astride a horse,” Tilly laughed. “They say it is a matter of decency, but I think they are only uncomfortable with any symbol of physical capability among the fairer sex. It resembles power a little too closely, and undermines the sense of order to which they desperately cling.” She assumed a masculine voice of spiritual authority. “If first a woman rides astride, what abominations might then follow?”
“I always thought it was so we could never beat men in a race.” Lydia was sceptical.
“Put succinctly, that is just what I said.”
“You are quite revolutionary in your opinions. Is your betrothed aware of your views?” Lydia tossed her head at Mr. DeGroen, who was riding some distance behind them with Tilly's brother. “For I am sure you keep them to yourself in society.”
“Of course I do. My ideas may be a little wild, but I am no fool. As for Mr. DeGroen, I dare say that he asked for my hand because of my views.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Tilly's smile was self-congratulatory.
“And yet he seems so upright and, well, conforming.” Even his attire was almost dull. Lydia could hardly believe there was anything the least bit revolutionary about the man.
“Yes, for he is no fool, either.” Tilly's lips formed into her slightly crooked smirk. “I should prefer not to marry a fool, you see.”
“I really could not imagine it.” Lydia chuckled.
“Just so we do not get arrested for our seditious ideas, I shall change the subject. Were you pleased with the lawyer I found for you?”
“Yes, indeed. He has set everything up just so. It is not a large amount, but I thought I should start small and make increases in the investment as I see how things go.”
“That seems prudent.”
“I also have recently had another idea for an investment, but it would put me rather perilously close to being,” Lydia lowered her voice to a theatrical whisper, “in trade.”
“Scandalous. Well perhaps you should discuss the matter with the lawyer, too. There may be some way to distance yourself from direct involvement. Are you going to tell me what this investment will be?”
“Not yet, but soon. I shall want your opinion, of course. Your opinions always seem so well-informed.” Lydia gave Tilly a little sideways, suspicious look.
“I am pleased that you think so.” Tilly returned the look. “I admit I am rather curious, so to keep myself from prying I shall change the topic again. Have you heard anything from Miss Delacroix?”
“She called very briefly yesterday morning. I was given to understand that she had just purchased the most fetching bonnet imaginable. I have not yet got over it and am still quite beside myself with jealousy.”
“As well you should be. She also called on me in the afternoon, for she had just heard some astounding news about Lord Aldley.”
“Really?” Lydia's heart beat faster. What could Miss Delacroix know about Lord Aldley? “This she omitted to share with me, but perhaps she had not yet heard this news when she called on me.”
“Perhaps. But howsoever that may be,” Tilly raised her brows significantly, “she had heard that his lordship left town very suddenly last week, the day after we met Mr. Rutherford, apparently. It is all quite mysterious, she claims, but her new maid has connections to some of his house servants, and it seems he was bound for Dover.”
“A crossing? So he was for the continent.” Lydia's heart sunk. She had cherished a hope that they might see him in the park.
“Yes. So he shall not be here today, I am afraid. I have suffered the pains and indignities of this bizarre exercise for nothing.” Tilly's mouth betrayed that she was not impressed by the earl's sudden travel plans. “We may only hope he was not bound for the colonies, for else he will certainly not be back in time for the ball.”
“Whatever could he be up to?” Lydia wondered if he had thought the better of the expectations he might have created and simply left to get away from her.
“Well, it is possible that he is a rather flighty fellow. He is only just back from a long stay in France, after all. But he does not seem so. I think it must be something very particular to take him away. Miss Delacroix is of the opinion that he is returning to a paramour in France. She has heard from a reliable source that there was a pretty young Parisian opera singer that caught his eye. She said that this might put some young maids off of his company.”
Tilly raised her brows and smiled faintly. “She assures me, however, that such things would not deter her from accepting his affections, for, although she is innocent of any particular knowledge, she understands the ways of men, in general. Very broad-minded is Miss Delacroix. Who would have known?”
“Has he paid some attentions to her—to Miss Delacroix, I mean?” Lydia hated the slight sound of panic that crept into her voice.
“I think it highly unlikely. It was expressed in the hypothetical. If she had any real cause for hope, you can be sure she would have exclaimed it to us both. And do not trouble yourself about it.” Tilly smiled reassuringly. “She only said these things to me that I might relay them to you. Her reliable source is almost certainly her brother, who was in Paris at the same time as the earl, but we both know that Delacroix is too smoky by half.”
“I wonder at her repeating such things about a man she has apparently fixed designs upon.” Lydia's dislike of Miss Delacroix was growing with each encounter.
“She is most likely trying to undermine your confidence in the earl's character, for she cannot get close enough to undermine his confidence in yours. I believe she has heard of your invitation to the ball. Clearly it has made her jealous and quite desperate.”
“Why would she not say it to me directly?” She hated all these London games, these foolish, contrived intrigues.
“Do you not see? This way she may feign concern for your feelings, while being certain that the information will reach your ear. And it will seem more credible if she does not say it directly to you, for it disguises her motives. She may deny any mischievous intention, for she did not say anything to you about her suspicions.”
“Where would she get any idea about my f
eelings?” Lydia disliked the presumption and the nosiness.
“She is surmising, I suppose. I might as well tell you that everyone in town knows of your last minute invitation to the ball, and of the earl's visit to your home in the countryside. The ton have great ears, though very small wits.”
Lydia's face sank. “Good Lord, I am done for. I shall not deny that I like Lord Aldley, but I should prefer not to have my feelings to be the subject of speculation and gossip around town.”
“That is unavoidable, I am afraid.” Tilly assumed an air of arch dismissiveness. “Tedious people have nothing to interest them but the lives they imagine others to be leading.”
“Oh come, you are not so entirely averse to gossip, yourself.” Despite her glum mood, Lydia was amused at her friend's superiority.
Just at that moment, before Tilly could formulate a clever reply, a rider approached much too quickly from the side. In fact there were two horses. All Lydia saw was a flourish of black, before someone was holding the bridle of her horse and someone else was pulling her out of her side-saddle. Tilly was already swinging something at the assailant, before Lydia's own instincts had her struggling and clawing at the man who tried to pull her from her mount.
She punched him in the eye, but he recovered quickly. Lifting Lydia off her horse, he swung her over the front of his saddle. The indignity of being treated like a sack of provisions had her cursing and twisting to get free. She heard yelling from the men behind her, but no one reached her in time. Her assailant carried her away, galloping hard to separate her from the protection of her friends.
Lydia dug her gloved fingers into the leather saddle strap, as best she could. She dared not further attempt escape lest she fall off and break her neck. Her skull jounced back and forth with the motion. Blood rushed into her head in a dizzying torrent. In a few minutes, they were slowing. Spots swam in Lydia's vision, but she could make out a covered carriage at the edge of the park. It bore no markings.
