“Ye…yes, m’lord. I believe I am,” a shaking voice replied. “’Tis a testament to your skills, m’lord,” he added in a strained voice.
“I am debating whether we should disembark and kiss the ground before proceeding,” Harlow joked.
“I thought we were going to do exactly that, m’lord,” the tiger retorted, unflinchingly.
“Ha! Simmons, you have right of it!” Good humouredly, Harlow held the reins in one hand, and pulled off his hat, blowing off the dust that covered it.
“Well, boys,” he muttered aloud to his chestnuts, “’Tis a good job the bloke regained control of his horses before they ran over someone. Come to think of it, I do not recall ever seeing a coach racket through this part of Town before. Mayhap he has an appointment with the devil himself.” Recollecting that he wished to keep his good mood, he shook the remaining dust from his hat, rolled it around to make sure the shape was correct and placed it back on his head. “That could have had unfortunate consequences had there been people in the street.”
Slowly turning his horses, he nonchalantly tried to observe any movement in the alley as he tooled quietly back the way he had come, Harlow noticed that the black coach had slowed down and pulled off the main street into an alley. Odd, that, he thought. He circled the block and peered through the alley. He saw nothing moving except the heads of what appeared to be the same horses which had just passed him. The horses’ heads were tossing back and forth in some irritation, white flecks of foam spotting their forelegs. The vehicle and the animals’ hindquarters were hidden behind a well-respected public house.
“Very odd place to park a coach…unless someone has died in the tap,” he mumbled to himself, making a mental note to discuss this oddity with his friend Max. Satisfied with his resolve, he turned about again, signalled his horses to pick up speed and, ten minutes later, pulled his curricle into the circular drive to Avalon House on Norfolk Street.
The beautiful, combined grey stone and pink brick mansion stood three storeys tall and was surrounded by black iron railings. Window boxes filled with flowers known for their fragrance hugged the sills of several upstairs windows, while white and pink rose bushes dominated the gardens that framed the house. The soft fragrance of roses floated on the light breeze, welcoming Harlow and reminding him of the flowers he had brought as he handed the reins to his tiger. He reached for the bouquet of purple forget-me-nots, kept safely in a hidden box behind his feet.
A moment passed, and the door opened. “Good morning, my lord.” The butler stepped back, allowing entry, and held his hand out to receive Harlow’s hat and gloves. “Shall I take the flowers for you, Lord Harlow?”
Harlow shifted the bouquet as he removed his gloves, handing both them and his hat to the butler.
“Thank you, Chambers, but I would like to give them to Lady Lilian myself.”
“Of course, my lord. Please follow me.”
Harlow thought he caught a faint smile cross the old retainer’s face before it disappeared, as if he was pleased for Lady Lilian. Harlow’s heart warmed.
The door to the parlour opened before Chambers could knock and a young lady rushed through the door, her attention still on a person behind her in the room. She slid to a stop, just short of toppling the old man, who had already begun protective measures, stepping against the wall and holding out his hands.
“Oh, good gracious. Please accept my apology, sir. I thought Lord Yarstone…” She stopped in mid-sentence; a smile crept up her face and she gave a quick curtsy. “Lord Harlow, do forgive me.” The smile lit her face. “I expect you have come to see my sister, Lilian.”
“I have, indeed.” He smiled pleasantly. The girl looked almost identical to her sister, except for the slate blue colour of her eyes, a contrast to her sister’s deeper, blue-green. Lady Lydia’s reddish-brown hair had been gathered into a modest knot, framed by curls and small white flowers. “Beg pardon for staring, but this is the first time I have seen the two of you so close together. You are almost identical twins!” Harlow felt a fool as soon as he made the observation out loud.
“Yes, my lord, we are, and I am afraid we filled our childhood with pranks. She smiled mischievously and nodded toward her sister. “Those around us tried to make us look different in our dress, a tactic I fear we…ah…put to good use.”
“Lady Lydia, please accept my apologies.” The voice of the butler interrupted any further indiscreet confidences. The old man had recovered his wits and his balance.
“Chambers, it is I who should apologize. I am at fault, not you.” Lady Lydia stepped aside to allow him entry into the parlour and quickly moved to stand behind a winged-back chair near her sister. “Lilian, I believe Lord Yarstone has just arrived.” While Lady Lydia’s voice was almost a whisper, she could not refrain from smiling widely. “Would you mind if we also took a turn in the park? He said he would bring his phaeton.”
“Oh, gracious! Lydia, please…daughter, your manners!” The Countess blustered into the room with evident frustration and gave a piercing look in the direction of her errant child. “Lord Harlow, what a pleasant surprise this is.” Her voice was at once calm and even.
He extended his leg and gave a slight bow.
“An excursion as you describe would be most pleasant, I am sure, ladies,” Harlow interposed. He
