She breathed in a deep, ragged breath. “So how do you think I feel, knowing my father has made me the instrument of ruin for a dear, kind lady like Alice? And the only way I can prevent it is by marrying the kind of man I most despise!”
Gerald stared at her. That aspect of things hadn’t even occurred to him.
“Oh, look—there is Mr. Frinton.” Leaning out of the curricle, she waved vigorously.
Corney Frinton, dressed up like a dog’s dinner, spotted her and, beaming, maneuvered his phaeton to come up beside them.
“Miss Bamber, Gerald,” he managed, his Adam’s apple bobbing furiously.
“How splendid to see you again, Mr. Frinton,” Miss Bamber said warmly. “And what a very smart outfit you’re wearing. So stylish and elegant.”
She was practically gushing, Gerald thought sourly, overdoing it, lavishing compliments on his friend just to annoy him, not that poor old Corney would realize. Corney Frinton would be over the moon if any female under eighty noticed him, let alone a pretty young thing like Lucy Bamber.
Corney swallowed, ran a gloved finger around his immaculately arranged collar and neckcloth, then gestured silently toward the seat beside his.
“Take a turn around the park with you, Mr. Frinton?” she said. “Why, thank you. I’d be delighted.” And before Gerald had time to blink, she was clambering across from his curricle—without even setting foot on the ground—and Corney was solicitously helping her into his rig. As if she were some kind of delicate flower, which, Lord knew, she wasn’t.
“Thank you for taking me up, Lord Thorncross,” she said across the gap. Her voice was flat and brittle and she didn’t even bother to look at him. “And for the lesson in family honor. Next time you think to invite me, don’t bother. Goodbye.”
Corney blinked, gave Gerald a reproachful look, tipped his hat and drove away.
Gerald watched her drive off with Corney. He owed her an apology, he knew he did. He didn’t want to apologize—he was still annoyed with her for reasons that weren’t clear to him—but he knew he’d gone too far. Alice had told him that Lucy wasn’t responsible for her father’s machinations, that Lucy was as much a victim as she herself was.
But Gerald hadn’t believed her. Alice was such a softhearted woman.
Now . . . The memory of Lucy Bamber’s pale, tense face, her eyes glittering with anger and indignation and . . . it looked almost like hurt, but it couldn’t be that, could it?
Do I blame you for your uncle’s selfishness or your father’s miserly neglect of his duty or your mother’s bitchiness? No! So don’t blame me for my father’s dirty dealing!
He’d almost made her cry.
I blackmailed no one, I stole nothing, and I’ve never cheated anyone in my life!
It rang shockingly true.
He watched the phaeton disappear, swallowed up by the crowd of fashionable carriages and horses, and a hollow feeling of shame—or was it loss?—lodged in his chest.
What had he done?
* * *
* * *
It being a fine day, James had decided to bring his daughters to the park, to see the fashionable people and horses—he caught himself up on the thought. Might as well admit it to himself. He was hoping to meet Lady Charlton again.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
He’d hired a barouche—he was trying out various carriages to see which would suit his enlarged family. Nanny McCubbin sat with a girl on either side of her, with Debo’s hand firmly clasped in hers, in case the little girl spied a cat somewhere and jumped out.
Judy sat up beside her father, eyeing the colorful throng with interest, in particular the ladies on horseback. “Papa, when may I get a horse?”
When, he noted, not may. But it was a reasonable question. All the girls needed to learn to ride. He’d had to teach their mother from scratch—Lady Fenwick had refused to allow her delicate daughter such a dangerous activity. Selina had taken to horseback like a duck to water. And as small children, both Judy and Lina had ridden up in front of their parents numerous times.
“I’ll organize lessons for you first. Riding in London is not the same as riding in Spain.” Judy bounced on her seat with excitement.
“Me too, Papa?” Lina asked.
“You too,” he agreed.
“Idonwannahorse. I. Want. A. Kitten,” said a gruff little voice.
Up ahead, James spotted Lord Thornton’s curricle, pulling up beside Lady Charlton and Miss Bamber. Thornton took up Miss Bamber, leaving Lady Charlton alone in the company of that frightful bore, Ffolliot.
“Look, there’s Lady Charlton,” he said, and the children and Nanny McCubbin craned to see her. He pulled up beside her. “Out you hop, girls. Stretch your legs,” he told the children, and helped Nanny McCubbin down.
“Lady Charlton, would you care to take a turn around the park?” he said after the greetings were completed. Her look of thankfulness almost made him laugh. She climbed in with alacrity, and the barouche set off at once, leaving Nanny McCubbin and the children staring after him with mixed expressions.
Ffolliot, having no interest in children and underlings, stalked off.
“Thank goodness you happened this way,” Lady Charlton said. “I was ready to murder that man.”
“No ‘happened’ about it. I saw you in the company of the biggest bore in London and came racing to the rescue, callously abandoning my children and their nanny in the process.”
She laughed. “Thank you. But he’s not the biggest bore in London, I’m afraid. You clearly have not yet had the pleasure of the company of Mr. Cuthbert Carswell, pig breeder extraordinaire, who can talk for forty minutes at a stretch about the breeding of pigs—without ever being asked a question about anything! I promise you, he could outbore Mr. Ffoilliot.”
He gave her a shocked look. “No! Ffoilliot is a member of one of my clubs, and I promise you nobody can empty a room faster. And you say this Carswell fellow is worse?”
“Infinitely,” she said with feeling.
“But how is it you are acquainted with these appalling windsuckers in the first place?”
“My nephew introduced them to Lucy as likely prospects,” she said grimly.
“Likely prospects? For what? Murder?”
She laughed. “For marriage. Honestly, when I think of the gentlemen Gerald has introduced us to, I wonder what on earth he thinks eligible means!”
“Impossible?”
“Completely! Oh, they’re all wellborn, and each of them is well-off, I gather, but not one of them is the slightest bit likely to appeal to a lively girl like Lucy. I cannot imagine what Gerald was thinking.”