“If she wishes it, travel would certainly be no hardship,” Lord Stephen said with an insouciant grin.
Jonathan wondered how he would feel when he discovered his travels were to be sans his bride. With Stephen, one never knew. He might find it quite pleasurable.
“How much has she told you? What does she seek in a husband?”
“I fear you will have to inquire of the lady as to that. My only task is to see that no fortune hunters ask for her hand.” Harford’s face had fallen into grim lines, and his tone was so repressive that it brought a speculative look from his old friend.
Lord Stephen studied him for a few moments, then replied, “I see.”
Just what he thought he saw was not revealed. And Harford decided it best he not inquire. For some peculiar reason, he found the notion of Penny married to this dashing fellow a dismal concept.
“There it is,” Lord Stephen exclaimed under his breath. He slid from his horse, softly ordering it to stand, then stalked the tigerish cat with the stealth of a hunter. He pounced, clutching the squirming bundle of fur with a smug expression on his face. “I told you I would find it.”
Harford nodded, then watched as his old friend marched toward Penelope while holding the cat at arm’s length, lest he get cat hair on his splendid blue coat.
“Oh, Muffin, what a naughty cat you are, to be sure!” Penelope held, her arms out to receive her pet, smiling at Lord Stephen with considerable warmth.
Off to one side, Lord Harford watched the little scene enacted before him with a wry face. Stephen had always been a clever one, even back in their schooldays. Yet there was an inconsistency in character, a wanting you might ignore in a friend, but that you would never countenance in a husband for a relative. Harford assured himself that he was merely looking out for Penelope’s interests. But if she thought she was going to marry Lord Stephen Collison, she would find unexpected opposition.
Mr. Willowby and Sir Aubrey watched Lord Stephen and Penny walk off toward the far end of the park with amused, rather ironic expressions. They turned to join Harford, shaking their heads.
Sir Aubrey spoke first.
“I say, old chap, that’s your cousin he is dangling after.”
“A very sensible cousin, I might add. I doubt he’ll get far in his pursuit.” Harford brought his horse in line with theirs, and they continued walking for a bit.
“His debts have been mounting,” Willowby offered, annoyed with his friend for chasing off after an heiress. Willowby was in greater need; his pockets were near empty.
Harford spurred his horse to a respectable canter, his mind churning with this new piece of information.
* * * *
“Fie, sir, you must return to your friends,” Penelope urged. “I would not deprive you of a lovely ride this afternoon. As you can see, my cat does not like being out and not free.” She glanced down at the squirming orange bundle in her arms.
“It’s a feisty little thing.” He didn’t offer to take the cat from her, knowing that orange fur would not be at all the thing with his blue coat. Besides, he held the reins in one hand and his horse required attention.
Penelope wondered if he would have come haring off to Chelsea to rescue her from the clutches of a constable. Or would he have cared? Then, fearing she did him a great injustice, she smiled with greater warmth as they came to the house and he hurried ahead to rap on the door for her.
“You were very kind to escort me home, sir. I daresay my maid gave up the hunt some time ago and is even now waiting for me with trepidation.”
His eyes danced with a hint of mischief; then he bowed over her hand, holding it with unseemly boldness, she thought.
“I was hoping you would consent to a drive with me later on?” Seeing she was about to shake her head, he continued, “Perhaps tomorrow? Chasing this scamp must have tired you, and I am an utter beast to think of urging you to endure another outing. Tomorrow? I beg of you?”
Trying not to frown at his sudden flare of interest in her, Penelope slowly nodded her head. “Tomorrow would be lovely, say about five of the clock?”
“Until then, fair lady.” He jauntily performed an elegant bow, then vaulted up on his bay, cantering in the direction of the park with nary a look around to see if anyone might be in his way.
Mrs. Flint closed the door behind Penelope, then murmured something about Miss Letty being upstairs again in the drawing room with that nice Mr. Oglethorpe.
Not wishing to intrude, Penelope tiptoed up the stairs, then around the landing, hoping to get past the door to the drawing room without detection.
“Ho, there,” Mr. Oglethorpe’s voice rang out. “You found the animal.” He came striding out of the drawing room, his long legs making short work of the distance. Letty followed behind him, peering around his lean form to see if the cat really was present.
“Actually, Lord Stephen Collison found him for me. That naughty cat had managed to get clean to the far side of Hyde Park. I vow I don’t know when I have walked so much.” She hoped to get away from the romantic pair of poets. They could best reach an agreement if left alone.
“When Letty informed me that the cat had gone missing, I was truly distressed. I came over to offer my services in the hunt.”
“You were too late,” Letty said, walking around to study the cat. “However, it seems to have enjoyed the run in the park.”
“But I appreciate his caring, Letty. It was a very thoughtful gesture. Lord Stephen would not hold the cat, you know. I suspect he feared acquiring a dusting of orange hair on that elegant blue riding coat he wore.”
With a self-conscious look at his own bottle-green coat, fitted by Weston himself,
