“Can’t be shabby if you’re going to dangle after an heiress.”
Alex froze in the act of shrugging into the blue coat, and turned a glare onto the hapless Freddie. “I am not dangling after anyone. I am merely going for a drive in the park with a lady.”
“Of course, of course,” Freddie stammered. “N-no insult meant, Wayland. None at all.”
Hildebrand turned Alex toward the door, away from the hapless Freddie. “Well, Wayland, you should be going! You will be late, and ladies do not like us to be late. Do they, Freddie?”
Freddie took a gulp from his wineglass. “Not at all!”
Alex glanced at his watch, and saw that he was indeed about to be late. He gathered up his hat and gloves, and turned one more stem glance onto his friends. “Very well. Just try not to drink all my wine while I am gone.”
“No! Of course we would not do that.”
“Of course.” Alex paused at the door. “And one other thing—I want to have a talk with the two of you about that ridiculous wager you concocted.”
“Wager? What wager?” Hildebrand cried, all innocence. “You really should be going now, Wayland.”
“Very well. I will speak with you later, then.” Then Alex left, closing the door softly behind him.
Hildebrand and Freddie ran to the window, to grin and wave as Alex’s curricle drove away.
“D’e think he fell for it all?” Freddie asked anxiously.
“Of a certes,” said Hildebrand in great satisfaction. “We will be toasting our friend’s health at his wedding breakfast before the Season is out!”
Alex glanced up once to his window before he guided his curricle into the traffic, and saw his friends waving and smiling like a pair of bedlamites.
They were up to something, he could tell. Ever since the three of them had first met at Eton, Freddie and Hildebrand had always behaved like the silliest clunches when they were concocting a scheme. Sometimes it had been smuggling a toad into a don’s bed, or coaxing a larger allowance from their fathers, or trying to catch a pretty opera dancer’s attention.
Now, it obviously had something to do with him.
But right now, Alex had weightier matters to consider than what those loobies were about. Matters such as Georgina Beaumont. And why he was so very anxious to see her again.
Perhaps it was only that he had been gone from England for so long, and then immured at Fair Oak when he did return. He had been in company with his fellow officers’ wives in Spain, of course; and in Seville there had been a lovely innkeeper, Concetta. Yet it had been a long time since he had spent any amount of time with a pretty, unmarried Englishwoman.
Yes! he thought in relief. That would account for it. He had simply formed an infatuation for the first lovely woman to smile at him. In the clear light of a respectable afternoon drive, without the excitement of a swim in the river or the glitter of a ball to distract, he would see that really she was quite ordinary. Then there would be no more hours of anxiously thinking about her, of waiting until he could respectably see her again.
And he could get on with more businesslike and unpleasant matters—such as trying to raise some blunt.
Alex drew up his curricle outside Lady Elizabeth’s town house and leaped down, much relieved by his thoughts. Now he and Georgina could enjoy their afternoon, without any silly romantical thoughts interfering!
Then he saw her again.
She emerged from the house before he could even ascend the front steps. She was wearing an afternoon dress of sunshine-yellow muslin, with sheer, gauzy white sleeves and a gauze Vandyke collar. It seemed she was made of light today; the late afternoon sun reflected on her brilliant hair and the yellow of her gown, and Alex’s eyes dazzled as he looked at her.
She put on the bonnet she held, a white straw confection tied with wide yellow ribbons, and then came toward him, her hand outstretched. Her merry smile could have eclipsed even that sun.
Alex
Alex froze in the act of shrugging into the blue coat, and turned a glare onto the hapless Freddie. “I am not dangling after anyone. I am merely going for a drive in the park with a lady.”
“Of course, of course,” Freddie stammered. “N-no insult meant, Wayland. None at all.”
Hildebrand turned Alex toward the door, away from the hapless Freddie. “Well, Wayland, you should be going! You will be late, and ladies do not like us to be late. Do they, Freddie?”
Freddie took a gulp from his wineglass. “Not at all!”
Alex glanced at his watch, and saw that he was indeed about to be late. He gathered up his hat and gloves, and turned one more stem glance onto his friends. “Very well. Just try not to drink all my wine while I am gone.”
“No! Of course we would not do that.”
“Of course.” Alex paused at the door. “And one other thing—I want to have a talk with the two of you about that ridiculous wager you concocted.”
“Wager? What wager?” Hildebrand cried, all innocence. “You really should be going now, Wayland.”
“Very well. I will speak with you later, then.” Then Alex left, closing the door softly behind him.
Hildebrand and Freddie ran to the window, to grin and wave as Alex’s curricle drove away.
“D’e think he fell for it all?” Freddie asked anxiously.
“Of a certes,” said Hildebrand in great satisfaction. “We will be toasting our friend’s health at his wedding breakfast before the Season is out!”
Alex glanced up once to his window before he guided his curricle into the traffic, and saw his friends waving and smiling like a pair of bedlamites.
They were up to something, he could tell. Ever since the three of them had first met at Eton, Freddie and Hildebrand had always behaved like the silliest clunches when they were concocting a scheme. Sometimes it had been smuggling a toad into a don’s bed, or coaxing a larger allowance from their fathers, or trying to catch a pretty opera dancer’s attention.
Now, it obviously had something to do with him.
But right now, Alex had weightier matters to consider than what those loobies were about. Matters such as Georgina Beaumont. And why he was so very anxious to see her again.
Perhaps it was only that he had been gone from England for so long, and then immured at Fair Oak when he did return. He had been in company with his fellow officers’ wives in Spain, of course; and in Seville there had been a lovely innkeeper, Concetta. Yet it had been a long time since he had spent any amount of time with a pretty, unmarried Englishwoman.
Yes! he thought in relief. That would account for it. He had simply formed an infatuation for the first lovely woman to smile at him. In the clear light of a respectable afternoon drive, without the excitement of a swim in the river or the glitter of a ball to distract, he would see that really she was quite ordinary. Then there would be no more hours of anxiously thinking about her, of waiting until he could respectably see her again.
And he could get on with more businesslike and unpleasant matters—such as trying to raise some blunt.
Alex drew up his curricle outside Lady Elizabeth’s town house and leaped down, much relieved by his thoughts. Now he and Georgina could enjoy their afternoon, without any silly romantical thoughts interfering!
Then he saw her again.
She emerged from the house before he could even ascend the front steps. She was wearing an afternoon dress of sunshine-yellow muslin, with sheer, gauzy white sleeves and a gauze Vandyke collar. It seemed she was made of light today; the late afternoon sun reflected on her brilliant hair and the yellow of her gown, and Alex’s eyes dazzled as he looked at her.
She put on the bonnet she held, a white straw confection tied with wide yellow ribbons, and then came toward him, her hand outstretched. Her merry smile could have eclipsed even that sun.
Alex
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