“Now enough of this.” Mrs. Parton inhaled a deep breath and peered out the window beside her. Her gaze seemed to focus on something beyond Beatrice’s view, and one eyebrow arched while a wily look glinted in her eyes. She glanced at Beatrice’s morning dress, then at her own purple dressing gown. “Ah, what a beautiful day. We must hurry and put on our new day dresses and bonnets and go out for a drive.”
“Oh, I should like that.” Beatrice downed the last of her tea and rose to leave. On the way to her room she realized she should have urged Mrs. Parton to take the landau and let the chauffeur drive. If her employer insisted upon driving the phaeton, Beatrice’s enjoyment of the afternoon would be severely challenged.
*
“I have never seen a happier couple.” Greystone sat opposite his brother Edmond and his new bride as his barouche wended its way through the streets toward Hyde Park. He sat with his back to the driver, having given his guests the place of honor so they could observe the oncoming scenery, but they seemed to want only to view each other. “If you were both not already handsome to a fault, your happiness would make you so.” Greystone had never known Edmond to display a temper. But then, he had not known their father. Surely Anna would be safe from the cruelty Mother had endured. Their children would suffer no whip, as Greystone had.
His arm entwined with Anna’s, Edmond gazed fondly at his bride, who returned a glowing smile. “Your approval means the world to us, brother,” Edmond said.
Greystone grimaced. “I assume you refer to our mother’s lack of the same.”
“Oh, dear.” Anna frowned. “I do hope Mother Greystone no longer harbors objections to our marriage.” Her dark brown curls, pushed forward by her bonnet, formed the perfect frame for her fair countenance. “She could not have been more helpful with the wedding.” Worry filled her eyes. “Is she terribly lonely? I mean—” She bit her lower lip.
“Do not concern yourself, sister.” Greystone wished he had not mentioned his parent. Perhaps he should add some humor to the discussion. “Mother has always found ways to keep herself busy.” He sat back, picturing the scene he had come upon the day before. “Yesterday Lucy lost track of the chimney sweeps, and when I came home Mother was in a high temper.” He chuckled at the memory, feeling not the slightest bit of guilt. Mother always failed to see the humor in life’s absurdities.
“Oh, dear.” Anna’s green eyes clouded. “Perhaps Lucy is not suited to the job.”
“Ah, well,” Greystone said, “she is young and still learning. Furthermore, I have no doubt that once the boys no longer bear the sooty signs of their former trade, Mother will make them her little pages.”
Edmond barked out a disbelieving laugh. “You want to let her rear two boys, considering the way she reared her own three sons?”
Greystone shrugged and shook his head. With two liveried footmen riding on the back of the barouche and able to hear every word, he really should not make or encourage disparaging remarks about their parent, for it would only foster disrespect for her amongst the servants. “’Tis a fine day, is it not?”
Edmond signaled his understanding with a slight nod. “Indeed it is.”
Greystone leaned back to enjoy it all. The breeze was not too brisk, the city odors not too pungent and the sun not too hot. He had left Parliament early after voicing support of Lord Blakemore’s current project. Now he wanted to let his mind wander to less serious matters. Thus he had invited his brother and sister-in-law to join him for a drive. He owed his life to this lady, for she had nursed him through his illness last winter, and her gentle nature soothed not only him, but his whole household. Had Edmond not claimed her first, he might have developed stronger feelings for her than brotherly affection. But from the moment he had met her, he could see their mutual interest and had done all he could to encourage their love, despite Mother’s attempts to destroy it.
The carriage driver pulled the horses to a stop at the entrance to Hyde Park. “Begging your pardon, milord, do you have a particular path you’d like to take?”
“Not at all, Porter.” He looked over his shoulder at the stout, greying man. “Surprise me.”
“Yes, milord.” The driver touched the brim of his hat and turned back to urge the horses forward.
As they started down the road, a gust of wind carried the pastoral scents of mown grass and lilacs, just the thing to make the drive more pleasant. Greystone even detected the scent of meat pies, doubtless coming from a vendor’s cart somewhere in the park.
“Perhaps we could find Mother Greystone another companion.” Anna gazed off and tapped a gloved finger against her cheek, as if trying to think of just such a person.
“And have some poor girl suffer under her temper as you did, my darling?” Edmond winced as he realized his error. “By the by, Greystone, I noticed that the companion Mrs. Parton boasted about has arrived. From across the room at your birthday ball I could see that Lady Beatrice is quite a pretty girl.” He glanced at Anna. “Though not quite the fairest of the fair.” He turned a teasing smirk toward Greystone. “You could do worse than marry the sister of an earl. And she lives right next door to you. How convenient.”
“Do keep your matchmaking plans to yourself, Edmond.” An odd sensation filled Greystone, an unpleasant twisting of some sort in the vicinity of his stomach. “I refuse to be attached to Melton in any way.” Now the unpleasant feeling rose into his throat. Why did his own careless words regarding Lady Beatrice seem so distasteful? “In any event she was quite taken with Lord Winston last night at Blakemore’s supper. And, I might add, the fellow was quite taken with her.”
“Lord Winston?” Edmond coughed away a laugh. “Poor fellow. I wish him well.”
He leaned toward his Anna, and she gazed up at him so devotedly that Greystone’s heart ached. How grand it must be to share that kind of love. And to think, Mother had tried to pair Anna with Lord Winston.
Forcing his thoughts in a more charitable direction, Greystone wished the young peacock well. The baron had done admirably to attach himself to Lord Bennington, unlike Melton, who had chosen Rumbold for a mentor. But Greystone did not care at all for Winston courting Lady Beatrice. She deserved—come to think of it, what did such a lovely, accomplished lady deserve? Certainly not a stuffy baron several ranks below her brother. In fact she also did not deserve a brother who prevented her from making a match worthy of her grace and beauty.
And what was he doing in regard to his own marriage search? All he could manage was a hopeful prayer that the Almighty would direct him to a lady who suited him as well as his brothers’ wives suited them. And the sooner the better, before Mother tried to force someone of her choosing upon him. Lord, Thou knowest whom I should marry. I pray Thee, do make haste and bring her across my path.
To rein in the envy trying to seep into his soul as he watched the happy couple across from him, he stared out over the park. A flurry of activity near the entrance caught his attention. Horsemen, nurses with carriages, barking dogs and pedestrians were scattering in all directions, and he soon saw the reason. A black phaeton pulled by a lathered gray horse galloped across the roadway and onto the grass. As best he could see, the carriage was driven by a lady, with another lady clutching the side of the vehicle and back of the seat. When they drew nearer, he saw the lady’s footman reach for his wig just as it flew from his head, while the tiger was grasping for his hat. Clearly the horse was out of control. Horror swept through Greystone as he recognized the driver.
“Great heavens, it’s Mrs. Parton!” And Lady Beatrice! “Porter, stop. Edmond, we must stop them.”
Before the barouche came to a stop, Greystone jumped out, beckoning his footmen with a snap of his fingers. They leaped from their perch, and the four men dashed across the meadow toward the oncoming horse.
“Whoa, whoa!” Edmond raced ahead, crossed the beast’s path and lunged for the harness, while Greystone flung himself at the other side, securing a hold but failing to stop it. They were dragged across the gr
ass, even when the footmen added their weight to the endeavor. At last Edmond managed to employ his cavalry experience and leaped upon the creature to bring it to a stop with another resounding “Whoa!” The horse reared on its hind legs and whinnied in protest, but obeyed the order, then stood shuddering and huffing as if grateful to be under control.
“Oh, bother.” Mrs. Parton, whose green peacock feathers hung half-broken from her slightly askew orange turban, looked at her rescuers with mild annoyance. “Why ever did you stop us, Greystone, Edmond? Did you not see I was giving my horse some much-needed exercise?”
“Mrs. Parton.” Gripping the bridle, Greystone puffed out her name as he struggled to catch his breath. He had never scolded a lady, but he was having great difficulty not doing so now. Her companion’s face was paler than ivory, her blue eyes widened, and she still grasped the side of the vehicle, yet she made no sound. Brave girl!
“Perhaps your grooms should take on that responsibility from now on.” What possessed this dear lady to do such a thing? Was she losing her mind?
“Nonsense, my boy.” Mrs. Parton’s eyes crossed briefly as one broken feather waved in front of them and dropped into her lap. “Oh, bother. One of my favorites, too.”
“Will you excuse me?” Eyes blazing, Edmond dismounted, gave the lady a curt bow and hurried back to his bride. Anna’s face wore the same alarm they all felt, except for Mrs. Parton.
“Lady Beatrice.” Greystone could not fail to be impressed by her straight, stoic posture. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” The single word came out on a high-pitched whisper, accompanied by a shudder so slight that, had he blinked, he would have missed it. “I thank you, Lord Greystone.” She looked at Mrs. Parton, who was fussing with the reins as if impatient to continue her journey. “Madam, if you have no objection, may we walk about the park for a while? I should very much like to view the Serpentine.”
Greystone did not miss the slight pleading tone in her breathless voice. “A splendid plan. Do allow me to escort both of you ladies to the river. We may even be able to purchase some meat pies and lemonade from that man over there with the food cart.” By no means would he permit Mrs. Parton to drive away, with or without the young lady. “Please honor me with your presence, both of you. Edmond and his bride are—”
Mrs. Parton interrupted with a hearty sneeze. And another even stronger. “Oh, bother.” She retrieved a lace-edged handkerchief from her reticule and sniffed into it. “They have just mown the grass, have they not? That always sets me to sneezing. Tsk. I should have sent someone to inquire before starting out.” A sigh of resignation escaped her. “Just when I wanted to enjoy a day in the park.” She emphasized her complaint with yet another sneeze. “Oh, do forgive me. We must return home.” She tugged at her gloves, then gathered the reins.
“Perhaps my lady would consider—” The footman jumped down from his perch.
“I should check the horse—” The tiger grasped the bridle.
“Madam, surely after this adventure—” Greystone spoke at the same moment the other men so cleverly and respectfully voiced their protests. All stopped, and he took charge.
“Mrs. Parton, you have all my sympathy. I can see the elements are not favoring you today. Perhaps this good man—” he patted the tiger’s shoulder “—could drive you. The phaeton has room only for two, so I shall take Lady Beatrice home. That is, after she has seen the Serpentine.”
He felt certain the sudden tears and puffiness around Mrs. Parton’s eyes could not be feigned. This was not a part of some matchmaking scheme. The dear lady was truly suffering.
“Oh, bother.” She sniffed into her handkerchief again, then sneezed. Through her tears, she looked at Lady Beatrice. “My dear, will you think I’ve deserted you?”
Lady Beatrice tilted her head in her pretty way and blinked at Mrs. Parton. How could a lady look so charming in the midst of her fright? “W-why, if it will not trouble Lord Greystone and his guests, I would not mind at all.”
“Very good.” Mrs. Parton eyed her footman. “Charles, you have lost your wig.”
“Did I?” The young man patted his head. “Coo, mum, how careless of me.” Greystone wanted to laugh at the lad’s performance. A good servant never criticized his employer.
“Well, you look better without it. I really must reconsider the livery my servants wear. Now, shall we go?” Mrs. Parton waved to her tiger. “Home, Harry.”
The footman returned to his post while the tiger took over the reins, and soon the phaeton was rumbling toward the park’s entrance. Greystone could not be certain, but he thought he heard Mrs. Parton’s inimitable laughter trailing after them. A tendril of suspicion crept into his mind, cut short when Lady Beatrice released a sigh so profound, he feared she was about to faint. Yet when he offered his arm, she gripped it firmly and gave him a steely look, as if she was determined not to succumb to her fright.
“To the Serpentine, Lord Greystone.”
“Your servant, madam.” He gave her a slight bow even as his heart lurched oddly. Lord, please do not let me become attached to this charming, yet unsuitable young lady. But the echo of the prayer for a wife he had lifted only seconds before the phaeton arrived at the park resounded within him.
No, Lord. Surely not.
Chapter Ten
The instant Beatrice took Lord Greystone’s arm, a sense of security flooded her, as if she had gripped a rock. The feeling came from more than the strong forearm muscles so evident despite the thick fabric of his sleeve. Even if the viscount had not so heroically risked his life to stop the horse, his entire being exuded stability, safety, sanctuary, all the things she had longed for her entire life. All the things Papa and poor Melly lacked. Yet this gentleman confounded her. One moment he studied her with seeming admiration and concern. The next he turned away with a furrowed brow, as if refusing to grant her his good opinion.
For now she would simply be grateful for his intervention in Mrs. Parton’s wild driving. While the other gentleman and the two liveried footmen had certainly done their part, especially the one who’d leaped upon the horse, it was Lord Greystone who had surprised her. One did not think of a prominent peer as someone willing to risk his life to stop a runaway horse. She had never seen Papa put himself out in the slightest way for anyone, much less risk his life. Lord Greystone truly was a remarkable gentleman.
While the two footmen hurried ahead, Beatrice and the viscount walked in silence toward a barouche that likewise was moving in their direction. The driver reined the four white horses to a stop, and one footman opened the door and folded down the step. A lady already in the conveyance moved from the front facing bench to the opposite one, and Lord Greystone directed Beatrice to the newly vacated place of honor. He settled on the white leather seat beside her, and the other gentleman took his place beside the lady.
“Lady Beatrice,” the viscount said as the carriage moved forward, “may I present my brother and sister-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Grenville?” He gave them a teasing smirk. “Do not expect much conversation from them. They have recently married and think they are the only two people in the world.”
“May I offer my congratulations?” Beatrice smiled at the pretty bride. “Mrs. Grenville, your husband was beyond heroic in stopping the phaeton, as was Lord Greystone. Did you see them?” She still felt a bit breathless, and her words rushed out like a schoolgirl’s.
“Indeed I did.” The lady gazed at her new husband adoringly. “I was terrified for them and for you ladies, but I would not have expected any less from either of them.”
“Edmond was a cavalry officer until recently.” In spite of the careless way Lord Greystone brushed dust from his coat and breeches, his proud tone revealed an admirable fondness for his brother. “He has hung up his uniform for a barrister’s wig.”
“Both are commendable occupations, Mr. Grenville.” Beatrice loved her brother, too, yet she could feel no pride in his actions of the past few years.
But she must not t
hink of Melly in this pleasant company. Lord Greystone was the host, and she must look to him to direct the conversation. For the moment, he chose to be silent.
“Oh, look, Edmond.” Mrs. Grenville sat up and pointed her ivory fan toward some object in the distance. “Remember the bench under that willow?”
Mr. Grenville nodded, but his gaze remained on his wife. “I came very near to declaring myself to you that day.”
“And I to you,” she said. “Ah, well. That came soon enough and in the Lord’s time.” They locked gazes, and both wore beatific smiles. Lord Greystone had been accurate in his description of their mutual devotion. Even as Beatrice admired them, she wondered if she would ever know such love. But whom could she trust to love her as this gentleman loved his bride?
“Ahem.” Lord Greystone coughed artificially. “What did I tell you, Lady Beatrice?”
Dismissing her dismal thoughts, she laughed. “Come now, sir, have some understanding. One day you may fall in love. Then no doubt you will see the matter differently.” From where had she summoned such a bold suggestion? She did not know the viscount well enough to tease him in this manner.
At first he blinked, and his jaw dropped slightly. Then he gave her a mischievous grin and rolled his eyes. “Heaven forefend. I shall never be as besotted as Edmond. Why, look at him. He does not even know you and I are in the carriage.”
Relieved by his pleasant response, Beatrice nodded soberly. “Nor does she.”
“What?” The gentleman in question turned their way. “Did you address us?” Now he gave his wife a sweet smile. “Anna, my darling, would you like to take a stroll and visit our special bench?”
“Why, Edmond, I cannot think of anything I would rather do.”
With one lifted eyebrow Mr. Grenville questioned his brother, to whom he bore a remarkable resemblance.
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