My Fair Groom (The Sons of the Aristocracy) by Linda Rae Sande

how it might glow in the dark should the earl be so inclined to drive it after twilight. Hopefully he would know better than to do so. A highwayman would spot the phaeton from at least a mile away and know an easy mark when he saw one.
    Gabriel Trenton didn’t strike her as a man who could defend himself. He wore bright satin evening clothes to balls and sported a head of blond curls that made him appear as if he’d stepped out of a Gainesborough painting. Julia briefly wondered if he’d been a cherub in his younger days. She could imagine his cheeks all pink and puffed out, a bow and quill of arrows hung over one chubby shoulder. The thought brought a smile to her face, but she quickly tried to hide it. She didn’t want the bounder to think she was the least bit interested in him in that way .
    “Ah, Lord Trenton. I do hope this day finds you well,” Julia answered automatically, pulling her hand away when the earl didn’t give it up right away.
    “I saw you from the gates and made my way to your side just as fast as I could,” Gabriel replied, realizing Lady Julia was allowing her mount to follow the speed of traffic, her progress suddenly taking her well in front of his position. Gabriel flicked the reins, and his grey Thoroughbred pulled him back in line with Lady Julia’s mount. Undeterred by Julia’s apparent ambivalence, he leaned out of his phaeton again. “I wanted to ask,” he started to say and then shook his head. “Nay, I wanted to beg you to save me a dance at Lord Torrington’s ball,” he said as he struggled to keep an eye on the traffic in front of his horse as well as in front of her.
    Lord Torrington? Julia had to think of the stack of invitations her mother had mentioned at yesterday’s tea. “Oh, do you mean Grandby’s ball?” she wondered with a cocked eyebrow. Didn’t the earl realize that no one called Grandby ‘Torrington’? It wasn’t as if the man had forbid the use of his proper aristocratic title – he simply preferred his given name. His wife didn’t even call him ‘Torrington’. Julia remembered the former Lady Worthington calling him ‘Grandby’, and one time, when she was at a garden party at Worthington House, Julia overheard Adele Slater Worthington Grandby refer to her husband as ’Milton’ whilst she fingered a rather gorgeous gold filigree and ruby necklace that graced her long neck. Some women have all the luck , Julia thought, remembering just then that Adele Grandby could almost be considered her godmother; Milton Grandby was her godfather, after all.
    “I will indeed be at the ball, Lord Trenton,” Julia replied, wondering if traffic might open up a bit ahead of her so she could rid herself of the blond earl. “As to a dance, you shall just have to arrive in time to claim one on my card,” she added coyly.
    “Gabriel,” the earl said, juggling the reins when another phaeton came up along his left side.
    Julia glanced around, pretending to keep an eye on the equipage and horses that surrounded her. Was there no way out of this? Usually the crowd thinned out once they were through the gates and parading along Rotten Row. “I beg pardon, my lord?” she answered, only half her attention on the earl.
    “Gabriel,” he responded, again leaning toward her.
    I f he isn’t careful, he will tumble out of the phaeton and land on his noggin , Julia thought as she fought the urge to smile. His mass of blond curls would probably cushion the blow, though, she realized. Did the man honestly think she would call him ‘Gabriel’ when they were in public? If so, he probably expected her to allow him to call her ‘Julia’. “I fear I cannot, my lord,” Julia replied with a sweet smile. “Do have a pleasant afternoon.” And with that parting comment, Julia steered Buttercup so she weaved to the right and over to the edge of the lane near where the pedestrians made their way.

    Alistair watched as the Earl of Trenton nearly tumbled out of his phaeton – not