Horatio beamed. “I thought they needed a little exercise. Think you can handle them?”
A garbled rush of words assured him that they could.
“We’ll cut a dash on these,” Jeremy declared.
With both boys absorbed, Horatio smiled down at Amy, clutching his hand. “Now for you, my miss, I’ve brought down Pebbles. Old Maude wouldn’t have appreciated the traffic, you know.”
Struck dumb at the thought of advancing beyond Old Maude’s plodding gait, Amy stared at the placid grey mare who ambled up to look over the stall door. “Look!” she piped, as the mare reached down to nudge hopefully at her pockets. “She knows me!”
That, of course, took care of Amy. Leaving her to get properly acquainted with the mare, Horatio smiled at his two remaining charges. “Now, my dear,” he said, beckoning Clarissa forward. “I fear I couldn’t improve on Jenna, so I brought her down for you. I do hope you’re not disappointed.”
Clarissa smiled delightedly as she reached up to stroke the velvety nose of her beautiful chestnut mare. “How could I possibly be disappointed with you, my pet,” she crooned softly as the mare nudged her cheek. “I was afraid you would want to spell her for a bit,” she told her father. “I rode her all winter.”
“Old Arthur seemed to think she was moping, missing all her rides. You know how soft-hearted he is.” Horatio patted Jenna’s nose, then turned to Sophie.
“And now for you, my dearest Sophie.” Taking her arm, he led her to the next stall, where an elegant roan mare was bobbing her head curiously. “I hope Dulcima here suits you. Not as powerful as the Sheik, of course, but rather more suited to the confines of the Park.”
Sophie was staring at the beautiful horse. “But… she’s new, isn’t she?”
Horatio waved dismissively. “Found her at Tattersall’s. She’s well broken and used to being ridden in town. Quite a find.”
“Well, yes. But I would have been quite happy with one of your other horses, uncle. I do hope you didn’t buy her just for me?”
“No, no. Nonsense-of course not.” Under Sophie’s disbelieving gaze, Horatio looked down and tugged at his waistcoat. “Besides,” he said, looking up, a sudden impish twinkle in his eye. “Dare say Mr. Lester will be riding in the Park on the odd occasion. Never do for him to think I don’t take all care of you, m’dear.”
The comment cut off Sophie’s protests. Taken aback, she frowned, opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“Leave you to get acquainted.” With a farewell pat for the mare, Horatio strode back to see how his sons were faring.
Sophie looked after him, her eyes narrowing. Then she snorted disgustedly and turned back to the mare. As if in argument, the mare shook her head, then snorted once, ears pricking forward. Sophie grinned. “Aren’t you a clever creature?” she crooned.
The mare nodded vigorously.
When, at length, they were ready to leave their equine partners, they strolled together back along the mews and around to the house, Horatio with them.
In reply to Jeremy and George’s eager question, Horatio replied, “You should give them a day or two to get over their journey, and for those not used to the noise to become more accustomed, before you take them out.”
The boys whooped. “Monday, then!”
“However,” Horatio smoothly continued, cutting across their transports. “You cannot, I’m afraid, simply take off with a groom here in town.” He glanced first at Sophie, then at Clarissa, walking on either side of him. “Neither your aunt nor I would be happy with that.”
“But Toby will be here soon, will he not?” Clarissa ventured.
Horatio nodded. His eldest son, presently at Oxford, was expected to join the family any day. “True. But even so, you must remember that Toby is barely twenty. It would hardly be fair to foist the responsibility for all of you onto his shoulders. Indeed, although your mother and I have no doubt of his willingness to act as your escort, he is not yet experienced enough to adequately guard against the dangers which might face you here in the capital. This is not Leicestershire, as you know.”
“What, then?” Sophie asked, knowing he was right. “Where will we find a suitable escort?”
Horatio smiled his most inscrutable smile. “Your aunt has promised to see to it.”
TUESDAY AFTERNOON saw the Webb ladies taking the air in the Park. The weather continued unseasonably mild; everyone was out to take advantage. Bright walking gowns splashed colour across the lawns. One or two ladies had even felt the need for parasols.
From her perch in the barouche beside her aunt, with Clarissa gaily smiling from the opposite seat, Sophie nodded and waved greetings, determined thus to keep her mind on noting any newcomers, rather than allowing her gaze to wander farther afield, searching for one she would do well to forget.
After completing a leisurely circuit, her aunt directed her coachman to pull up alongside Lady Abercrombie’s carriage.
Her ladyship, as sociable as her husband was not, was all smiles. “Lucilla, dear! How positively delightful! Do you intend to remain all Season?”
While Lucilla exchanged gossip with her ladyship, both Sophie and Clarissa did what young ladies were supposed to do on such occasions: they responded to any query directed their way but otherwise allowed their gaze to idly roam the passing scenery, which was to say, the passing crowd.
Engaged in this necessary occupation, Sophie greeted any acquaintances who passed, exchanging commonplaces all but automatically, while her wandering gaze became gradually more intent. When it finally occurred to her what she was doing, she frowned and shook herself.
With a determined air, she looked about for distraction. And discovered Mr. Marston, waiting, sober and serious as a judge, to greet her.
“Oh, good day, sir.” Annoyed at her awkwardness-she was surely more experienced than this!-Sophie summoned a smile. “I did not know you had intended to come to London.”
Phillip Marston took her hand and bowed. He shook hands with both Clarissa and Lucilla, who, on hearing his voice, had turned, brows flying upward. After exchanging a few words, Lucilla turned back to Lady Abercrombie, leaving Mr. Marston to gravely tell Sophie, “Indeed, Miss Winterton, it was not my intention to join the frivolity.” A disdainful glance at two young gentlemen who came up to speak to Clarissa declared his opinion very clearly. “Nevertheless, I felt that, in this case, my presence was necessary.”
Sophie was mystified. “Indeed, sir?”
“I flatter myself that I am fully cognizant of the inherent sensibility of your mind, Miss Winterton. I greatly fear that you will find little to entertain a lady of your refined nature here in the capital.” Phillip Marston cast a glance at Lucilla, once more deeply engrossed with Lady Abercrombie, and lowered his voice. “As your aunt was determined to bring you to town, I felt that the least I could do, as I assured my dear mama, was to journey here to do what I may to support you through this time.”
Utterly dumbfounded, Sophie silently searched for the prescribed reply to that revelation, and discovered that there wasn’t one. In fact, as the full implication of Mr. Marston’s declaration impinged on her mind, she decided she did not approve-of him or it. Drawing herself up, she fixed him with a distinctly frosty gaze. “I must inform you, sir, that I find the entertainments to which my aunt escorts me quite fascinating.”
A condescending smile lifted Mr. Marston’s thin lips. “Your loyalty to your aunt does you credit, my dear, but I feel I must point out that the Season has not yet begun. The entertainments thus far are doubtless mild enough. You will understand my concern once the more… rackety gentlemen are included. Then, I venture to say, you will be only too glad of my escort.”
Sophie struggled for words. She dragged in a deep breath, glanced up-and felt a surge of inexpressible relief. Her heart leapt. She promptly tried to dampen her reaction, only to see the corners of Jack Lester’s lips lift.
With determined calm, Sophie coolly extended one hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Lester.”
“Miss Winterton.” With suave grace, Jack bowed. “I had hoped to discover you here.” He ignored Mr. Marston beside him.
Mr. Marston, Sophie noticed, was not ignoring him. He drew himself up, his nostrils pinched as if Mr. Lester’s appearance was offensive. Just what he could find amiss with that supremely elegant figure Sophie was at a loss to guess. “Ah… I believe you have met Mr. Marston before, Mr. Lester? He’s down from Leicestershire. I was just
