Page 30 of The Chaperone
Sophy stiffened. She did not need Sir Esmond to tell her the type of man Lord Pinkney was, to be sure. He fitted her image of the rake like a glove.
‘Indeed, my lord, several years. May I have the pleasure to present,’ the words were so obviously a lie she almost ground her teeth, ‘my sister, Lady Harriet Hadlow, and my cousin, Miss Tyneham.’
‘My great pleasure, ladies.’
‘Sister, cousin, may I present Lord Pinkney.’ Sophy did not add anything to the barest minimum.
He eyed her, gauging her disapproval, and smiled. She disliked his smile. Lord Rothley’s smile was infectious and a little lupine. Lord Pinkney’s was, in her view, reptilian.
‘We have not encountered you at any of the parties we have attended thus far, my lord,’ observed Susan.
‘Why no, ma’am. I tend to find them a bore, but having met such charming ladies, I am sure I will be more often at parties.’
‘And less often at the gaming tables, my lord?’ Sophy was rarely waspish, but this man raised her hackles.
‘Far less, ma’am.’ He smiled at her, but it was the smile of a man acknowledging a foe. ‘After all, at the gaming tables one is, alas, likely to lose. Being in delightful feminine company one may only win.’
Susan repressed a snigger. Harriet looked fearful. Sir Esmond looked as if he would like to knock Lord Pinkney’s teeth straight down his throat. He controlled this urge, however, and instead spoke in a convivial tone.
‘I fear we are delaying the ladies, Pinkney, for they must complete their ride in good time to return and make preparations for their evening’s “junketing”.’
Sophy gave him a look that expressed her gratitude. Pinkney did not think this statement true for one moment, but it would be awkward to argue about it.
‘It would of course be a desolation to think that one had caused such preparations to be rushed. I have no doubt, however, that we shall meet again in the near future, dear ladies.’ Pinkney looked most directly at Susan, who was assessing him quite boldly. ‘Shall we be on our way, Fawley?’
Sir Esmond made a polite farewell, and let Pinkney trot off beside him. Sophy, thankfully, did not hear what passed between them.
‘I am reminded of a dog with a bone when I see you with that trio, Fawley,’ Pinkney observed. ‘The only thing I do not know is which bone you consider yours, the nervous chit, the tall spinster, or the dark dasher.’
‘And you simply remind me how much I dislike you, Pinkney.’
‘Account me heartbroken, sir.’
‘I would far rather it was your neck, but one cannot expect all one’s wishes fulfilled.’
‘Alas no, that is so often the case.’
Sophy was glad that Sir Esmond had rescued them from the unpleasant presence of Lord Pinkney. She had no fears for Harriet, since she looked in a positive quake at the sight of him. Be he never so charming, her sister would not fall victim to that particular rogue. With Susan she was less certain, not that she might believe his blandishments but that she might like the challenge of entrapping such a man. Losing Sir Esmond’s company was a pity, and having shortly thereafter to spend several minutes being polite to old Lady Norton, who was remarkably deaf, and demanded that every phrase be repeated, was trying to the nerves. Harriet declared her throat was quite sore from having to shout, and Susan said that she was bored. This was a bad sign. A bored Susan meant trouble, and so it turned out.
Susan was rather more alert to the presence of male riders than her cousins, and, whilst they were talking, caught sight of a group of young gentlemen in uniform, catching up with them gradually from behind. She giggled.
‘Lord Rothley was very specific that I should not like young men in red coats “so easily”. How fortunate then that he is not present. Be sure not to tell.’
Before Sophy had even time to register what she meant, Susan kicked Hugo hard, dropped her reins and screamed, thereby frightening him into a gallop. Apparently out of control, the big bay careered along the trackway. The gentlemen, alerted by her cry, did what any red-blooded cavalryman would do, and charged after her. Galloping in the Park was strictly forbidden, but rescuing a young lady in danger was not. As Sophy gasped, the quartet thundered past them, bent low over their horses’ withers. It was as much as Harriet and Sophy could do to calm their agitated mounts. By the time they had done so, the horsemen had drawn level with Susan, and one had grabbed Hugo above the bit and was dragging him to a wide-eyed halt. The two sisters cantered up as a breathless Susan was thanking her ‘rescuers’ in a tremulous voice.
‘I think it must have been a bird in one of the bushes. I cannot imagine what caused poor dear Hugo to take off like that, and once I lost my stirrup … I do not know what I would have done without your kind offices, gentlemen.’
The officers, as one, declared themselves only too glad to have been of service and, when she shyly requested whom she should thank, announced themselves as Lieutenants Allerton, Fiskerton and Calke and Captain Lord Edward Wittenham, all of the—
‘Oh, I know your regiment, gentlemen. You are in the Life Guards.’ Susan gave them a knowing smirk. She looked like a cat who had found the cream.
The cavalrymen seemed even more delighted that Miss Tyneham was joined by two other ladies. Sophy looked at the young men and could not disapprove of them, for they looked fresh-faced and innocent after the leering assurance of Lord Pinkney. The fact that there were four of them also made it more difficult for Susan to cast out lures to any one in particular. They also, very politely, included Harriet in their light-hearted conversation, which entertained them until the ladies had to turn aside to head back to the stables. Only then could Sophy remonstrate with Susan.
‘You did that deliberately, so do not attempt to deny it, Susan.’
‘There was no harm done, and since it was an “accident” there can be no recriminations about galloping in Hyde Park. It was actually quite exhilarating, and you cannot deny it made the latter part of our ride far more enjoyable.’
‘The officers were … very nice,’ murmured Harriet, tentatively. ‘One could not say they were forward or … presumptuous.’
