Page 18 of Souvenir of Love

“Do you like it?It’s last year’s habit, but I’ve trimmed it with some new lace and changed the collar. The hat is new.”

James studied his sister in her navy-blue habit, trimmed with red. The hat was a small tricorne, perched jauntily on her pale-blonde hair, a rich red feather curling down toward her cheeks. “Very elegant, Anne. Heads will turn.”

She smiled. “And ears, too, I’ve no doubt.” She pulled on a pair of red kidskin gloves. “Are you certain you will not change your mind and come riding with me?”

“Quite certain,” he said firmly.

“Very well, then,” she said, giving her hat a quick pat to make sure it was securely pinned. “I’m off.” Halfway across the sitting room she turned, her eyes shining like those of a child on her way to a birthday party. “I do hope you shall be here for dinner. You wouldn’t want to miss hearing what the critics have to say about Elizabeth’s performance.”

Seven

She forced herself to breathe in time with the horse’s hooves, to relax the muscles in her face, to smile as if she didn’t care that she’d been cut. Not once, not twice, but four times in the last half hour. Elizabeth had been trained to sit straight in the saddle, but this afternoon, it was not the old lessons of her riding master, but the new ones from the ladies of the ton, that kept her spine rigid. Despite the nearly overwhelming desire to whip her horse into a gallop and ride, hell for leather, for home, she kept her mare at a steady walk.

Four times she’d smiled and lifted her hand to wave at someone, only to have the other woman look through her as if she weren’t there. She resolved not to wave again, unless she was certain her greeting would be returned. Finally, an old schoolmate, Sarah Harrington, had ridden toward her, hand raised. Elizabeth raised hers in return, then caught the expression on Sarah’s face. She was staring past Elizabeth. She was waving at someone else. Elizabeth’s arm hung in midair; any movement she made would only make things worse. Even so, she pretended to wave at someone just beyond Sarah.

“Lady Elizabeth thinks I was waving at her.” Sarah turned to her companion, a woman who yesterday would have beenthrilled to exchange greetings with an earl’s daughter. She raised her voice as she passed, to ensure her words would carry. “As if I would greet a woman of such slight character in public.”

“Ignore her,” Alix said firmly. “Her sort are always waiting for an opportunity to act superior to their betters. You areLadyElizabeth Harcrest, sister and daughter of the Earl of Moreham. So, chin up, smile—the face you show makes it clear you know this—see if you can’t manage a laugh.”

Manage a laugh?She fixed her eyes straight ahead. She smiled. Several young bucks dressed in the latest fashions lifted their tall hats and smiled in response. Not the polite smiles they offered to Alix, but insinuating smiles. One of them made a quick motion with his tongue. Elizabeth blushed. She dropped her eyes and caught sight of one of the men brushing the tight fabric of his crotch.

The men passed, suggestive laughter trailing behind them like smoke. “Home.” Elizabeth exhaled sharply. “I want to go home.”

“Another half mile to go,” Alix responded, her voice as falsely pleasant as the expression frozen on her face.

“Can’t we simply cut across the park?”

“And have these creatures believing they forced us to retreat? I think not.”

An open carriage carrying three young ladies, two young men, and an elderly chaperone rolled toward them. One of the young ladies appeared to be relating a story with great animation; the ribbons on her hat fluttered with the intensity of her tale. As the carriage passed, the young people erupted in laughter and the chaperone swiveled her head and glared at Elizabeth.

“I’m ready to admit defeat, only let us go now.”

“This ride was your choice,” Alix said. “You must see it through.”

Elizabeth had the distinct feeling her sister-in-law was referring to more than their turn through the park.

“Merde,” Alix swore sharply. Her gray eyes cut to a figure in navy and red trotting toward them.

“Are you sure it’s not too late to cut through the park?”

“Far too late,” Alix hissed through a stiff smile, then returned Anne Dinsmore’s merry wave.

“Alix, Elizabeth, delightful to see you,” Anne greeted them. “Allow me to introduce my riding companion, Sir Edmund Bogglesworth.”

Sir Edmund, a plump bespectacled man who resembled Humpty Dumpty, bowed his head and intoned, “Ladies, an honor.”

Alix and Elizabeth returned the greetings and introductions.

“A lovely day for a ride, isn’t it?” Anne continued cheerfully. “Have you ever seen such a blue, blue sky? It’s almost as if the clouds have been forbidden to appear.”

“Indeed,” Alix said.

Elizabeth found herself suddenly wishing for clouds, great, heavy, gray storm clouds that would mass over Anne Dinsmore’s head and douse her. She imagined the plume on Anne’s hat drenched and dripping down her face and smiled—her first real smile since she’d entered the park.

Annoyance skittered across Anne’s face. “You’re looking well, Elizabeth,” she said sharply.

“I’m feeling quite well,” she replied, keeping the smile in her voice. “And you?”