Chapter Fifteen
A Ride in the Park
Later that afternoon
“Would you like to wear your green riding habit? Or the blue one?” Rachel asked as she held up the two choices for her mistress to consider.
Lydia blinked. “Am I going riding?” she countered, her brows furrowing as she dared a glance at the window. Although it wasn’t raining at the moment, it was still a rather gray day. She couldn’t remember an invitation from anyone to ride during the fashionable hour. Indeed, she had merely come to her bedchamber with the thought of retrieving the book she had started reading the night before.
Anything to get her mind off what she was supposed to be doing.
Befriend him, Lord Chamberlain had said.
Every time she thought of Adonis Truscott, she felt annoyance mixed with a bit of pity. How was she to forge a believable friendship from that? And figure out what had the fellow agent prone to extended periods spent in a stupor?
She certainly hoped the viscount had been joking when he mentioned marrying the odd man.
The most surprising aspect of the meeting, though, had been to learn that Adonis Truscott had been serving as an agent under Lord Chamberlain in the first place. Nothing about the man suggested he had skills as a spy ...
She suddenly remembered last night. How long had Adonis been in her bedchamber before she realized he was there? He had managed to sneak in and sleep in her bedchamber without anyone in the household knowing!
Lydia stared at her reflection in the looking glass above the vanity. Could anyone tell she was an employee of the Foreign Office just by looking at her?
Of course not.
Rachel’s eyes widened at her mistress’ query about going on a ride. She dared a glance out the window to her right. “The groom certainly thinks so, my lady. He’s just finished saddling your horse and is about to bring it around to the front of the house.”
The widow suddenly wondered if she had accepted an invitation without remembering having done so. Not possible, she thought with a shake of her head. More likely that someone had sent one, and she hadn’t yet opened it. “The blue one,” she announced, deciding that despite the chill in the air and the gray clouds that shrouded the city, she would go riding.
Her mount, a Welsh pony on the taller side, would appreciate the exercise, and frankly, she needed some air. After the incident at Lady Morganfield’s garden party and her trip to Whitehall the day before, she hadn’t left her townhouse in Bruton Street.
“Would you like me to redo your hair?” Rachel asked when she finished fastening the skirt and doing the buttons up the front of the habit.
Lydia regarded her reflection in the cheval mirror. Although her hair had been done in a simple top-knot, the ringlets Rachel had ironed into it were still coiled at her temples. “No need. The hat will cover most of it.” She didn’t want the maid’s efforts wasted. More rain was expected given the cloud cover, and Lydia rather doubted she would be back at the townhouse before it started to shower.
Rachel was quick to pull a blue velvet and peacock-feather-trimmed hat from the dressing room. Within minutes, she had it pinned securely in place and was admiring Lydia’s reflection in the looking glass when there was a knock at the bedchamber door.
Lydia frowned as Rachel hurried to answer the door. The butler, his hands clasped behind his back, stood just beyond the threshold. “What is it, Jenkins?” she asked, leaning over on the vanity seat so she could see the butler.
Clearing his throat, Jenkins stated, “The escort for your ride has arrived, my lady.”
Escort?
Well, if the escort wasn’t simply her groom, she would know she had missed an invitation. Lydia added one more pin to her hat and replied, “Then I suppose I am ready as well.”
The butler gave a nod before heading back down the stairs. Lydia followed after a moment, rather happy someone had seen to it she had an invitation to ride in the park.
Adele, perhaps?
She rather enjoyed spending time in the company of her newest cousin, the Countess of Torrington. Or mayhap one of the other ladies at the garden party had made the arrangements when she was still in the gardens with Sir Donald. Or perhaps Lord Chamberlain had requested that his wife ride with her.
Lydia was nearly to the bottom of the stairs when she sensed she was being watched. Slowing her descent, she was stunned to discover Sir Donald regarding her from the vestibule, his top hat tucked under one arm whilst he leaned heavily on his cane.
Oh, dear, she thought, realizing almost immediately that she would not be riding in the park with Adele, or Caroline, or with any other of the female acquaintances from the garden party.
Adonis Truscott meant to escort her.
She suddenly wondered if Lord Chamberlain had put him up to it.
The cur.
“Why, this is a surprise,” she managed, allowing a smile to touch her lips. She hadn’t yet decided if it was a good one, but there was no need to give the man the cut direct. They had been properly introduced, after all. She hadn’t shot him when she had the chance. And she was supposed to befriend him.
Adonis bowed and reached for her hand even before she had an opportunity to offer it or to even curtsy. Her gloves still clutched in her other hand—she had intended to pull them on in the vestibule—meant Adonis kissed her bare knuckles. Once again, the strange shock waves she felt when he last kissed her hand shot up her arm to nearly her elbow.
“I do hope it’s not an unpleasant surprise, my lady,” the knight replied, his happy demeanor suddenly darkening a bit. “I was sure I made mention of it ...” His voice trailed off, as if he just then realized that he might have imagined making the engagement.
Lydia angled her head, still not sure what she thought of the unexpected arrival of Sir Donald. “Not at all,” she managed, wondering if she should be more concerned than she felt just then. “Was there a particular reason you intended to ask me?” she wondered as she moved into the vestibule.
Although she didn’t know how she would have responded to his invitation during the garden party—especially given how the man’s attention seemed lost for so long—she was quite sure she would have shot him last night had he brought up the idea then. Rather than protest, she decided to go along with his plans. With him making the first move, she was saved from having to arrange what might be an even more awkward meeting. Whatever would she use as an excuse to see him?
Adonis seemed to stiffen at the query. “Truth be told, I am not sure, my lady,” he stammered. “But I should like you to think me a ... a friend, and to do so requires we spend some time in one another’s company.” He captured his lower lip with a tooth, as if he were trying to recall a missing memory. “If it’s an inconvenience, we can certainly do it another day.”
Lydia allowed a sigh, rather surprised at his words. I should like to think me a friend. If that were truly the case, then perhaps her orders from Lord Chamberlain wouldn’t be so impossible. Besides, something about him had her ... curious.
Yes, that’s what it was.
Curiosity.
Perhaps an hour or two in his company would allow the man to clear up some of the misgivings she had about him. Befriend him, Chamberlain had said. She wondered just how different Adonis was now compared to how the viscount remembered him to be before whatever had happened that had changed him.
Something having to do with the war, no doubt. Some men came out of wars bolder and stronger, while others came out broken and beaten down. Adonis Truscott was apparently one of the broken ones.
Her pause in responding to his suggestion that they could do the ride another day was probably being misinterpreted by the man. “We shall do no such thing,” she announced with a determined grin, deciding to make the best of it as she pulled on her kid gloves.
An obvious look of relief crossing his face, Adonis offered his arm and Lydia placed a hand on it. She couldn’t help but notice how his height seemed to increase at least tw
o inches when they took their leave of the townhouse and another six when he put on his top hat.
“Your hat is rather smart,” Adonis murmured as they made their way down the two steps to the pavement. “Did you craft it yourself?”
Lydia resisted the urge to snort. “Thank you, but no. I saw it in the window of Fitzsimmons and Smith and simply had to have it.”
“Ah, my favorite hat shop,” the knight replied as he led her to her mount. “Hats that make the gentleman,” he murmured after another moment, putting voice to the line that could be found embroidered into the label of every men’s hat produced in the popular Oxford Street establishment.
“Mine, too,” Lydia remarked as she approached her Welsh pony. “Except mine has a label that reads, “Hats that favor the lady.”
Holding the reins of both horses, the groom bowed at Lydia’s approach. He was about to offer Sir Donald his horse and see to making a stirrup with his interlocked hands for Lydia when he was suddenly forced to take a step back. For Adonis had simply moved to stand in front of Lydia, placed his hands at her waist, and lifted her onto the side saddle.
Lydia couldn’t help the sound of surprise she made just then, her hands instinctively moving to his shoulders as a means of hanging onto something as she was hoisted up. “Sir Donald!” she admonished him, although when she realized she was perfectly placed onto the saddle—she merely had to hook her right leg around the pommel and slide her left foot into the stirrup and she would be ready to ride—Lydia gave a shake of her head. “Really, sir, you must warn me before you go lifting me off the ground like that,” she whispered.
Adonis furrowed his brows and blinked a couple of times. “I apologize, my lady. I merely thought it would be more expeditious this way. So your riding habit didn’t have to be rearranged and all.”
Taking a look at how the blue superfine of her skirt splayed evenly along the side of the pony, Lydia realized the man had a good point. The riding boot in the stirrup didn’t even show beneath the edge of her hem. “Still, a bit of warning ...” She stopped and heaved a sigh.
“A warning. I promise, my lady,” Adonis stated with a nod. He turned and took the reins of his mount from the groom, giving the young man a wink before lifting himself into the saddle of his bay.
Lydia watched in fascination. Despite the man’s need to use a cane—he definitely walked with a limp—he mounted his horse using his good leg and slid the cane into a leather sheath hung along one side of the horse. There was a moment when Lydia was sure he winced, though, and she wondered if riding caused him pain.
“Do you require a chaperone?” Adonis asked when Lydia seemed ready to leave. He glanced about as if he expected another horse to appear from behind the townhouse.
Lydia considered asking the groom to see about having a footman join them—or even the groom himself—but thought better of it. “Do I?” she replied with an arched eyebrow, rather liking how the knight seemed to visibly swallow just then.
So, he expected a chaperone, she realized. After the incident at the museum, she could understand why he might think she would prefer one. Better to keep him guessing, she decided.
“I shall see to your protection, of course,” he stated, directing his horse into the street. “I am sworn to see to it, after all.”
Lydia had her pony nearly abreast of his Cleveland Bay when she heard his claim. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
Adonis pretended not to hear her query. “Does her ladyship wish to join the parade in Rotten Row? Or would you prefer to ride somewhere else?”
A bit surprised by the offer of an option, Lydia wondered where the ‘somewhere else’ might be. “Where did you have in mind, if not the park?”
The man allowed a shrug. “We could ride to the Serpentine,” he suggested, thinking the poor weather would prevent too many people from being out by the water.
Rather surprised by the suggestion, Lydia figured it would be better to go somewhere they wouldn’t be seen by the ton. She still wasn’t sure about Adonis Truscott, so anything she could do to lessen unwanted gossip would help. “The Serpentine sounds divine,” Lydia replied, digging her left heel into her horse as she leaned forward. Her pony was off at a fast trot, leaving behind a rather startled Adonis. His bay soon joined the Welsh pony, though, and together they dodged all manner of conveyances on their way west.
It wasn’t until they reached the road just north of the Serpentine before the traffic thinned and it was quiet enough to make conversation.
Lydia turned her attention to Adonis and once again put voice to her query. “Whatever did you mean when you said you had promised my protection? You mentioned it last night, too.” When the man didn’t answer immediately, Lydia glanced in his direction and discovered his attention was on something far away. Following his line of sight, she couldn’t make out what he seemed to find so interesting. “What is it?” she asked, pulling on the reins of her horse so that it stopped.
The Cleveland Bay took a few more steps before stopping, although Lydia could tell it did so of its own accord. The knight’s attention was still on something else, and the only reason his horse had stopped was because her pony had halted so suddenly.
“Sir Donald!” she called out, tingeing her voice with urgency. Directing her mount to come abreast of the knight’s, she was stunned to find the same blank look on Adonis’ face as had been there the day before during the garden party. Reaching out with a gloved hand, she gave his shoulder a shake. “Sir Donald!” she repeated. When he still seemed lost in his thoughts, she nudged him again and said, “Adonis!” in a hoarse whisper.
The knight seemed to awaken from his stupor, his sudden gasp suggesting he hadn’t taken a breath in a long time. His gaze darted about before it came to rest on Lydia. “How long?” he asked suddenly.
Lydia blinked before allowing a shrug. How long? “I’ve really no idea,” she replied. “I just noticed you seemed ... lost in thought.”
“I apologize. I really have ...”
“Where were you just then?”
The knight looked as if he wouldn’t consider her question before he finally gave a quick shake of his head. “I really don’t know that I was ... anywhere,” he replied, his brows furrowed. He looked as if he were concentrating, or at least trying to recall whatever it was that took him from the here and now.
“Then when were you?”
The question had Adonis turning his head quite suddenly. “When?” he repeated, his brows still furrowed. He struggled to remember what had him so mesmerized, so intent on the moment he became completely unaware of his surroundings.
“Yes. You must have been some when if not somewhere,” Lydia reasoned.
The bay tossed its head, as if to signal its impatience. Adonis allowed the horse to walk, forcing the pony to step forward to keep abreast. The remnants of his waking dream—or was it a nightmare?—flitted about the edges of his vision. “A year ago, if you really must know,” he murmured. Smoke, the smell of gunpowder, a loud explosion and then ... nothing but pain.
Lydia seemed to think on his answer before asking her next. “Where were you a year ago?”
Adonis stiffened in the saddle. “I was in Hell, my lady,” he murmured, almost too quiet to be heard.
When she thought he was about to get lost in his thoughts again, Lydia made to change the subject. “This is a bit of heaven, don’t you think?” she asked as she waved a hand to indicate the beautiful green space around them. Despite the incessant rain and cooler temperatures, this area could boast a lawn of green and clear water near the bank of the Serpentine River.
Recognizing her ploy for what it was, Adonis dared a glance at their surroundings. He allowed a slight grin and nodded. But it wasn’t the Serpentine or the beautiful green lawn that had him agreeing with her question, but rather her company, for he rather thought of Lydia as an angel just then. Wherever she was would always be just a bit of heaven, he decided. “Yes, yes indeed,” he finally replied. “Would you care
to walk for a time?”
Lydia gave the question some consideration before finally allowing a nod. She knew getting off her pony meant she would require a boost to get back on. Did the man simply wish to repeat what he had done earlier by lifting her onto the saddle?
Pulling his cane from its sheath, Adonis dismounted and pulled a carrot from his waistcoat pocket. His bay, more interested in the carrot than in any of the nearby vegetation, dutifully followed his owner as Adonis limped over to Lydia. She had already dismounted on her own, though, and regarded the odd gentleman with an arched brow. “I don’t suppose you have another carrot stuffed into your pocket?” she ventured. Why, for a moment, she was quite sure Adonis was displaying the evidence of an arousal behind the placket of his riding breeches.
Adonis blinked. “I’ve only a lump of sugar, truth be told,” he replied sadly as he pulled it from his pocket. He immediately offered it to her pony, who quickly saw it to its immediate demise before his own horse realized what had happened.
“Why, thank you, Sir Donald,” Lydia spoke in a quiet voice, placing a hand on his arm even before he could offer it.
The knight seemed surprised by the move, although he recovered quickly and began leading them along the shoreline. Their horses followed behind, even though only Lydia held the reins to her mount. Fairly sure the Welsh pony would follow her, Lydia didn’t want to risk his sudden departure. If he did decide to bolt, she would be forced to ride with Adonis on his mount.
Lydia decided the odd sensation she felt in response to that thought should be ignored just then.
“How is it you were at the garden party yesterday?” she asked after a few steps.
Adonis allowed a shrug. “I arrived uninvited, truth be told,” he murmured, finally meeting her stunned gaze with a shrug. “You mentioned you would be there, and I wished to see you again,” he said, rather matter-of-factly. “I am an acquaintance of both Lord Morganfield and Lord Torrington, of course,” he added quickly, quite aware of Lydia’s stunned expression.
The Enigma of a Spy Page 10
