Spring in Hyde Park

by Jennifer Moore

  “The devil!”

  “It was bound to come out,” the duke said.

  Gil put his head in his hands.

  “She is not the only fish in the sea,” Mayfield assured him. “You are an attractive fellow. There is bound to be an heiress out there who wouldn’t mind fixing up Harcourt, if you are honest with her from the beginning.”

  “I love Lavinia.” Gilbert pushed away from the table and left the breakfast room.

  Trying to ignore his own feelings of gloom, the duke went round to the stables to prepare for the race with Tubby. Lady Sophronia was bound to blame him for conniving at the deception. She already felt ill will towards him after his honest words a few days ago about her pet project.

  So? What did it matter what the lady thought of him? There was no place for her in his life. Even as he gave room for the thought, he was aware of hollowness in his chest. She was the devil of a fine woman. If he had been looking for a wife, she would be the very one.

  But he had decided early in his majority that marriage was not for him. He would not be led around by the nose in this parody of life called society. Growing up, he had watched his father retreat further and further into his shell, deriving pleasure only from his library, specifically his collection of natural histories. His mother, a very pretty woman, had made his life a misery with her blatant affairs. One would think that she would have been beyond the pale as far as the ton was concerned, but no. She had been society’s darling.

  A voice inside whispered that Lady Sophronia could not be a woman more different than his mother. She held herself apart from the falsity of the ton. He did not at all like what she must be thinking of him and his brother at the moment. Longing to set it right somehow, he tried in vain to concentrate on his horses.

  In addition to everything else, his brother’s broken engagement put him in a personal quandary. He had been planning to leave London behind upon his brother’s marriage. His plan had been to use his property in Somerset to begin a stud farm. The only thing he was certain he trusted was horses. But his brother was his only family, and he was loath to leave him alone in London under the circumstances. He had clearly taken the matter very much to heart.

  Tubby met him at the pub they had decided upon, and they shared a pint of ale before the race.

  “I saw in the Morning Post that your brother’s engagement is broken,” he said. “I was very sorry to hear it.”

  “She put it in the Post already? That was quick work.” The duke swallowed a long sip of ale.

  “I was at White’s this morning. It’s the talk of the ton.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. Let’s spring our cattle, shall we?”

  Mayfield knew Tubby was a dab hand with his horses; nevertheless, he was surprised how close their race was. They were neck and neck during the whole course. Standing in his curricle, he felt the welcome thrill of speed as his blacks went all out for their goal, the race driving other concerns from his mind. At the end, he whipped the animals up into a final burst of energy, and when they reached the agreed upon finish line just outside Richmond, the duke beat his challenger only by a head.

  “Well done, Your Grace,” Tubby congratulated him. “I owe you a luncheon. The Crown has a decent sirloin. Join me?”

  “Of course. I have something I wish to discuss with you, as a matter of fact.”

  When they were settled in an inglenook with pints of ale, Mayfield said, “I’m thinking about starting my own stud farm in Somerset. You have one of the best eyes for horseflesh in London. I wondered if you’d like to come in with me on it.”

  “Grand idea! You’ll do a superb job at it. Where’re you going to get your stock?”

  “Though Spain would be my first choice, with this devilish war on, there’s no place to go at the moment but Ireland. I have my eye on a couple of stables there. One of them is where I bought my blacks.”

  “I bought my geldings at a little stable in County Cork. Be happy to give you the name of it. And thanks for the invitation to join you. Maybe I will once I get my affairs settled. Just between me and you, I’m thinking of tying the knot.”

  Dread settled in Mayfield’s chest. “You are! Are congratulations in order?”

  “Bit previous, actually. Don’t know if she’ll have me.”

  The duke took a swig of ale. He hoped his features were more settled than his feelings. “Do I know the lucky lady?”

  “Matter of fact, you do. Lady Sophronia Huffington.” Tubby studied his ale. “What do you think? Will she have me?”

  Looking at Tubby’s uncertain face, he put the question to himself. Would she have him? He was a good catch—wealthy, personable, no vices of which the duke was aware. The man didn’t even like cards! Tubby’s face was kind and pleasing, unlike his own. Despite his feelings about marriage, he struggled to stifle what he recognized as a case of green-eyed jealousy.

  “I don’t know why not, man.” Reaching across the narrow table, he clapped his friend on the back. “She’s a good choice, if you like feminist bluestockings.”

  “You don’t mean it!”

  “Lady Sophronia certainly has revealed that side of herself to me. If women had the vote, she’d be a proper Whig. When she is particularly displeased, she accuses me of being a Tory.”

  “Nothing wrong with being a Tory,” the man said, puffing out his chest.

  “She’s wedded to reform. Some might even accuse her of radical sympathies.” What he said was the truth; nevertheless, he felt a niggle of guilt at revealing it to Tubby in such a way.

  “I want a comfortable wife,” Tubby said. “I’ve never seen that side of the woman. Perhaps she was just having you on.”

  Mayfield shrugged. “Perhaps. It is for you to decide, at any rate.”

  His friend looked unsettled, his brow furled. However, it cleared the moment their sirloins were set before them.

  When the duke returned to Mayfair, it was to find his brother in the darkest of moods. He sat in the library, slumped in a chair, staring into a glass of whiskey.

  “I tried to call on Lady Lavinia, but she wouldn’t see me. I just finished writing her a letter, telling her how ardently I love her, but I don’t know if it will do any good.”

  Mayfield hated to see his brother brought so low, though he had warned him it might happen. He joined him by the fire. “Are you certain you really want to get married? You didn’t just pursue Lady Lavinia in order to restore Harcourt?”

  “I know how you feel about marriage, brother. You are an out-and-out cynic. I might have been that way once. But I love Lavinia. All those words you don’t believe in come to mind: cherish, protect, adore.”

  The duke considered his brother’s speech. Gil was clearly in a bad way, and there was apparently no persuading him into forgetting the lady. “What is needed here is a gesture. A grand gesture. Let me think about it.”

  Gilbert slapped the arm of his chair. “You are right. And it should come from my brain, not yours. I mean to be nothing but sincere from here on out.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think she was genuinely in love with you. That is what gave you the power to hurt her so much.”

  “That works two ways.”

  The men sat staring into the fire, each pondering the problem, the duke questioning whether he was not a little in love himself for Tubby’s plan to have had the power to affect him as it did. A servant came in to stir the coals and add more. The day had turned stormy, and a wind was blowing, rattling the windowpanes.

  The duke got up and poured himself a short whiskey.

  Gil roused himself a little. “How did the race turn out? Did you best Tubby?”

  “Just barely. He’s going to be stiff competition come Saturday.”

  “A good man, Tubby.”

  “The best,” agreed Mayfield. “He’s thinking of getting leg-shackled.”

  “Tubby? The devil! To whom?”

  “Lady Sophronia.” Just saying the words pained him. He downed his whiskey.


  “Our Lady Sophronia?”

  “Do you know any other with such an absurd name?”

  “Will she accept him, do you think?”

  “I think she must be well past the age of romantic notions. My guess is that she will.” He poured another whiskey.

  “Well, I don’t think they will suit,” Gilbert said.

  Feeling his brother’s eyes on him, the duke was suddenly uncomfortable. “Whyever not?”

  “She’s too much of a bluestocking for Tubby. They don’t have a thing in common between them.”

  “He seems devoted to her, although I did let drop the fact that she doesn’t think much of Tories. That gave him pause, but I really don’t think he took me seriously.”

  “She’d much better marry you. You wouldn’t put up with her nonsense.”

  The duke laughed. “We already had a little run-in about her project in the East End. She doesn’t think too kindly of me at the moment.” He went to stare out the window. Rain had begun to lash against the panes. “We had better have good weather for the race. How many people have entered now?” His brother was the official in charge of entrants and betting.

  “Ten curricles. And the odds are heavily in your favor.”

  An unwelcome thought visited him. “It occurs to me that you won’t be taking the Huffington ladies to Brighton now.”

  “No,” Gilbert said heavily. “I guess not.”

  The duke tried to stem his disappointment. It was surely a little thing compared to the loss his brother was feeling.

  Chapter Nine

  Thursday morning, Sophronia was engaged in trying to support Lavinia’s spirits when Williams came to tell her that her uncle wished to see her in the library.

  “Whatever more can he want?” asked Lavinia, dabbing her eyes. Their uncle was displaying a bout of terrible temper about Lavinia’s broken engagement. He had actually forbidden her to leave the house to attend any social engagements until she “came to her senses.”

  “It must be something important. He never wants to see me,” Sophronia said.

  Her uncle sat behind his desk in his library, wearing a fearful frown. He looked just like a bad-tempered toad. She raised her chin. Did he mean to attempt to get her to aid in his efforts to force Lavinia into the marriage she did not want?

  “Sit down, Sophronia. I hope you are not going to be missish like your sister. You have always had the better brain, but loftier notions.”

  “My sister is very intelligent, sir. Even you cannot force her into a marriage she does not want.”

  “She would take Lord Gilbert if she were thinking straight. Excellent family. His lordship is heir to the dukedom, as well.”

  She swallowed and looked past her uncle’s left shoulder, trying to keep her features neutral.

  “Which brings me to the reason I wanted to see you. It does not have to do with Lavinia, surprisingly, but with you. Look at me, Sophronia!”

  She brought her eyes to rest on her uncle’s unappealing face. His eyes were hard and unforgiving as coal. What did he think she had done?

  “What is it, Uncle?”

  “You have had an offer of marriage. Very surprising at this late date, but exceedingly welcome. Now you can take your high-principled sister away with you.”

  Of course, he would look at it in those terms. Sophronia stifled her anger with difficulty. “Are you going to tell me who has offered for me?”

  “Lord Tobias Stephens. An earl of very large means and good reputation. Apparently dotty about you.”

  She could not say that she was surprised, but she certainly did not expect her heart to sink at the news. Had she not told Lavinia that she could be content with Tubby? Why then did the whole idea of marrying him bring such heaviness of heart?

  “Sophronia, come now.” Her uncle’s voice was sharp. “Surely you can have no objection to this extraordinary offer!”

  “I . . . shall need to think on it, Uncle. Be so kind as to give me a few days. I . . . I never thought to marry.”

  “Think on it?” He slapped his desk with an open hand. “You will accept this offer!”

  She looked her uncle straight in the eye. “I will consider it. But you cannot make me accept Lord Stephens’s offer.”

  “What possible grounds can you have for refusal?” he demanded.

  “I do not love him, sir. I like him well enough, and that is the reason I ask for time to consider whether this is a sound enough basis for marriage.”

  “Bah!” This time her uncle struck his desk with his fist. “He is calling upon you today to pay his addresses!”

  Sophronia stood. “I shall be perfectly honest with him. He is an understanding man. I have always thought of him as the best of friends.” Turning her back on her uncle, she left the room.

  She nearly ran up the stairs to hers and Lavinia’s sitting room, a hand pressed against her flushed cheek. Her mind was whirling.

  Lavinia was curled up on the sofa, bundled in her dressing gown, staring into space.

  “Vinnie, dear, you must help me decide what to do. Tubby has offered for me.”

  “Oh! Sophronia!” Her sister sat up straight. “Poor Tubby. You are not going to accept him, are you?”

  Sitting down next to Lavinia, she said, “Dearest, we must get out of this house. Uncle was particularly nasty.”

  “Some women might marry for that reason, but not you,” her sister said.

  “Why not me? I am not likely to fall in love at this late date, and Tubby is perfectly kind.”

  “Kind!” Lavinia made a face. “That is not enough.”

  Sophronia put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “You thought you were in love, and it did not serve,” she said gently.

  “But, dearest, you and Tubby have no common interests.”

  “We both like horses.”

  “Horses! That is not enough upon which to base a marriage. Admit it. You just want to take me away from this house. You are feeling sorry for me. I will not let you sacrifice yourself.”

  “I think we could be content.”

  Lavinia stood and walked to the window. For a moment, she only stood, looking out. Then she whirled and said, “Content is not enough. It would degrade into boredom, and from there to discontent, and from there to misery.”

  “I cannot imagine being miserable with Tubby.”

  Tears washed down Lavinia’s cheeks. “Do not do this, Sophronia. You do not know Tubby well enough to make this sort of decision. I thought I knew Gilbert, and I was completely mistaken in him. I should not like you to make such a mistake. Ask him for time to get to know him. He cannot deny you that.”

  She considered this. Her sister was clearly overwrought, but perhaps she had a point. Only it was back to front. What she needed was time for Tubby to get to know her. She knew that the Sophronia who occasionally appeared in a ballroom and the one he went riding with in the park was not the real Sophronia.

  “Now that idea has some merit, Vinnie. I do not know how he can object to that.” She gave her sister her clean handkerchief. “I cannot bear to see you so wretched.”

  Lavinia sat again, head bowed. “If what Lord Gilbert and I had between us was not love, then I do not know what love is.” She clutched her hand to her breast. “I feel a physical pain in my chest. I do not know how I can go out in society again where I might see him. I could not bear that.”

  “We will only go to places where he is unlikely to be. Musicales, the opera. He is fond of neither of those things.”

  “When are you to speak to Tubby?”

  “He is coming sometime today. Shall I ask if he can take us to the opera tonight? It is Così fan tutte.”

  “Would you? I think it is best for me to be seen in society as soon as possible, but I dare not risk a ball. He might be there. Trying to ensnare another woman’s fortune.”

  After luncheon, they sat in the downstairs sitting room embroidering linens. Even this task was not altogether a happy one, for up to this time, they
had been working on monogramming Lavinia’s trousseau. An occasional sob escaped her sister, tearing at Sophronia's heart. Her anger was not only for Gilbert, but for the duke, his coconspirator.

  Lord Stephens was announced, and Sophronia asked that he be put in the drawing room where she would join him in a moment. Looking at Lavinia, she bit her lip. “Wish me well.”

  Tubby looked up from examining one of her uncle’s elephant figurines when she entered the room.

  “Lord Stephens, good afternoon.”

  Coming to where she stood, he took her hands in his. “Lady Sophronia, you look particularly lovely in that shade of blue.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  “No doubt your uncle has spoken to you about why I am here?”

  “He has.”

  He brought one of her hands to his lips. “I should be very honored, my lady, if you would consent to be my wife.”

  She had thought carefully about what her answer should be. Looking into Tubby’s brown eyes, which were softened by his obvious feelings for her, she knew it would not be easy.

  “I would like to talk to you first, if you would be so kind. Shall we be seated?”

  He let go of her hand and frowned in confusion. “Why, yes. Of course.”

  Once they were composed on the sofa, she said, “No doubt you are aware of my sister’s broken engagement.”

  “All London is aware, my lady. May I say, it is a great pity. I know of no finer man than Lord Gilbert.”

  “I would have said the same but a few days ago, my lord. But they were acquainted only a short time before they became engaged, and there were things Lady Lavinia did not know about Lord Gilbert. When she was made aware of them, she became convinced that they would not suit. Now she is scandal fodder. It is very difficult for all concerned. Have you seen Lord Gilbert?”

  “Completely bowled over, as a matter of fact. But what has this to do with us?”

  “I do not know you well enough yet, Lord Stephens, to know if the two of us would suit. We met only at the beginning of the Season and have not spent a great deal of time together. I feel it is too early for me to consent to an engagement.”