by Sahara Kelly
At least that was the goal.
Dismounting from the carriage and leaving the driver to manoeuvre it to somewhere comfortable where it would be ready when needed, all four began walking down the path that led to the centre of the Park and then on toward Kensington Gardens.
The grass was still green, but clearly ready to take a winter nap, since it was not as lush and springy as it would be in the growing season. Likewise, the trees were rapidly losing whatever was left of their leaves; a gust of wind whipped up the ones on the ground into a little vortex of red and gold and brown. There was the scent of smoke in the air, and Ragnor guessed that bonfires were taking care of the seasonal detritus.
Lydia and Judith strolled arm-in-arm, with the gentlemen bringing up the rear. Ragnor would have preferred Judith to be on his arm but was content to wait until the time was right.
The girls were laughing at something, and occasionally tucking their cloaks closer around their necks.
Matthew drew back slightly. “Rag, I have a question.”
“Very well…” He turned to his friend, eyebrows raised.
“I’d rather not have m’sister hear it,” he added, lowering his voice.
“Hmm. If it’s about your taste in mistresses, I don’t want to hear it either, Matthew,” Ragnor warned.
“No, no. Nothing like that. And if you must know, you were right. Not worth the money.” Matthew dismissed his recent unfortunate experience in that regard.
“This is about Rolfe’s new club. Binny Fothersham has put me up for membership. Getting in early is quite a distinction, you know. What do you think? If I get accepted, should I join?”
Ragnor paused, under the pretext of adjusting his coat. “Are you asking my opinion or soliciting my approval? There’s a difference…”
Matthew frowned slightly. “Both, I suppose. It sounds like a very exciting and unique club, and I’ll warrant that it will fill up rapidly.”
“With that kind of entertainment? Yes, I’m sure it will. As would any brothel.”
“No, no, Rag. It’s not a brothel. Apparently, the rules are hands off the dealers. There’s even a rumour that some of our shining belles might be there. It’s all incognito, you know. The dealers will be masked. Just imagine it. I might have a hand dealt by Miss Fiona Barrett-Goddings.”
Ragnor chuckled. “Matthew. She was the Incomparable of this past Season, and I hear she’s engaged to marry a Duke or somesuch. I doubt she’ll don a mask and hold the bank at faro…”
“True, but still…what do you think?”
Ragnor swallowed. “I’ve heard that Gadsby Rolfe is a somewhat mysterious man with a dangerous reputation who has become a Lord through subterfuge, double dealing and possibly a favour to our Prince. Although, to be fair, most of that is probably gossip since I can validate none of those statements. I’m not going to tell you what to do, my friend, however, I urge great caution in any dealings with Lord Rolfe. This new venture included.”
“Damn,” said Matthew, picking up the pace as the ladies had drawn ahead and were waiting, turning toward them. “All right then. Might as well tell you I’ve been accepted…and I’ve joined.”
“Ah.”
Ragnor heaved an inner sigh. He had a strong premonition that Matthew was headed for trouble. And of course it would be up to him, Ragnor, to get him out of it.
Then Judith smiled at him.
Well hell. If it meant he got to see more of her, by virtue of her friendship with Matthew’s sister, then the inconvenience of keeping an eye on Matthew would be worth it.
Wondering what the devil was going on in his own, usually well-ordered, brain, Ragnor nodded at Matthew and walked away toward Judith.
Chapter Five
J udith watched as Sir Ragnor left Matthew’s side and walked toward her.
There was no question in her mind that he was walking toward her, and not Lydia, since he’d barely glanced at the other young woman.
Oddly enough, that made her lift her chin and bestow a small smile upon him. She couldn’t recall a time when a handsome gentleman had singled her out like this, and she found it definitely pleasurable.
“I need to talk to Matthew,” said Lydia. “Do you mind walking with Sir Ragnor for a bit?”
Judith shot her a glance, wondering if this was a subterfuge to bring them together, but then saw Lydia give a slight frown.
“It’s about that thing I mentioned earlier in the carriage. A strange note from Fiona. I want to discuss it, but I daren’t run the risk of being overheard anywhere. This is ideal…” She waved her hand over the almost-deserted lawns.
“Very well,” agreed Judith. “Stay within sight though?”
“Of course.” She saw both men draw close. “You say you haven’t seen the Serpentine yet? Well, we must rectify that indeed,” her voice was carrying. “Sir Ragnor, may I prevail upon you to escort Miss Judith to see the Serpentine? She hasn’t had a chance to do so and now is the perfect day for it.”
“It will be my pleasure,” bowed Sir Ragnor, effortlessly elegant down to his boots.
“Thank you, sir.” Judith dipped her head in acknowledgement. “I believe Lydia has some matters to discuss with her brother. Shall we?” She turned to continue the walk.
“Indeed, Miss Judith.” He offered his arm and she rested her hand on it, quite correctly. “If you will allow me the honour of using your given name?”
She sighed. “I am unfamiliar with so many of the social niceties, Sir Ragnor. As far as I am concerned, I’d be quite happy if you called me Judith. But if that will shatter my reputation and destroy Lady Maud and Sir Laurence’s standing, then please don’t?”
He smiled, chuckled and then let out a laugh, surprising her and startling a flock of birds into flight.
“I amuse you?” She blinked at him, a little uncertain.
“Not at all. Your honesty is admirable and I would like to reassure you that around me, you may feel free to say whatever you please. I’m no Patroness, nor social arbiter. Plus whatever you say will go no further, on my word as a gentleman.”
She looked at him, noting that while his tone was light, his expression was intense, his gaze locked up hers. A shiver of awareness traversed her spine. It had a habit of doing that when he was around, and it made her just a tiny bit nervous.
“I am determined to not be in awe of anyone, Sir Ragnor. Especially not the Patronesses.” She stared ahead. “I shall not be applying for vouchers. Lady Maud and I have agreed on that.”
He was silent as they made their steady progress along the gravel path. Then he moved a little and tucked her arm beneath his, taking her hand and arranging it to his satisfaction.
It brought her closer to him and she swore she could begin to feel his warmth through the layers of winter clothing that separated them.
“Why?”
“Why what?” She glanced up at him. “Oh, you mean the vouchers?”
“Yes. I thought every young woman was straining at her harness to be seen in those august rooms.”
“I’m sure many are.” She considered her words carefully. “However, upon reflection, we have decided that since I will most likely end up returning to the country—once the matter of my inheritance is settled—such time as would be wasted pursing Patroness approval might well be spent better elsewhere.”
He merely nodded at that.
She hoped he accepted her explanation since it was the one that she and Maud had agreed upon when she’d first arrived in town. Apparently, Maud hadn’t shared it with Sir Laurence, given that he’d not previously known about Judith’s mother. But then again, men didn’t really need to know this sort of thing. And neither did Ragnor.
“A logical decision.”
Judith let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. “We thought so.”
“Nothing to do with a dislike of dancing, then?”
“Oh no, not at all.” She smiled. “Although I confess to being a bit clumsy. No one would accuse me of bein
g graceful or fairy-like.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I heard that the Sydenhams are having their ballroom redecorated, and I hoped this would mean dancing at their next Wednesday meeting.”
“It seems likely,” agreed Judith. “Although I did enjoy the first one.”
“As did I. And I look forward to being able to request a dance with you, Miss Judith, at the very earliest opportunity.”
His hand pressed hers lightly as he used her name, and the shiver became a host of heavily booted ants marching over her skin.
“I would accept,” she said, without hesitation.
“A waltz?”
“If it is permitted, yes.”
He grinned. “We’ll make sure of it.” He leaned forward to peer under her bonnet as she turned her head away. “And perhaps another game of piquet?”
That made her grin. “Really? You’d play again with me? I thought you had little enthusiasm for our game.”
“Miss Judith.” He veered her off the path and toward the bank of the gently flowing Serpentine. “I’m going to be honest with you.”
“Goodness.” She looked at him. “Are you quite sure? I was of the impression that London gentlemen were never honest with the ladies. It’s simply not de rigueur.” Her lips twitched.
“Minx.” He grinned back. “But yes, I am sure.” He guided them both to a bench and pulled her down beside him. “Now. To set matters straight, you played the most brilliant game of piquet I’ve seen in quite some time. You certainly would have put just about every member of my club to shame. And I, for my sins, was quite overset. It’s been a long time since I lost a hand. I have never lost a hand to a woman and never did I expect to do so.”
“Until me?”
“Until you.” He paused. “I’d never played against a woman before. Never even imagined such a thing. The idea that I might lose…? Ridiculous.”
“Oh.” Judith absorbed that. “And you were not best pleased, then?”
He straightened. “Best pleased? Good God, woman. I was bloody furious.”
Judith struggled, but in spite of her resolve her shoulders shook with laughter. “Oh dear.”
“Go ahead, laugh. I deserve it. And apologies for the language.”
She obeyed, a peal of delight breaking from her throat as she relished the thought of…what was it Sir Laurence had said…walloping the dickens out of Sir Ragnor. Or something like that.
A few minutes later, when the laughter was down to a hiccup, he tugged on her arm.
“Finished?”
She nodded. “For now. But all joking aside, why do you say you deserve it?”
He shook his head, took off his hat, smoothed the brim, and then replaced it. She had the feeling he was playing for time. Then he looked at her. “Because I was so damned arrogant that I assumed nobody could beat me. Especially not a sprig of a girl with beautiful eyes and lips that make a man think of many things when he should be concentrating on his discards…” His eyes dropped to those lips.
“Oh…” This time the sound was a gasp of surprise. “I…”
“Sssh. Don’t say anything.” He rose and pulled her up with him. “Just be aware that regardless of your intriguing and brilliant skill at piquet, there are also other facets of your personality I’m interested in exploring.”
So much of Judith shuddered at his words. The sound of his voice as he spoke meant more than the content, since he was close and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. The thought occurred to her that she would very much like to assist him in exploring whatever facets he found of interest.
And since she was a young woman who deplored artistry, sophistry or prevarication, she surprised him yet again with the one thing he probably wasn’t expecting. Honesty.
“Yes, please.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really?” He caught himself. “Wait. I don’t believe you’re supposed to say that.”
“Why ever not? It’s the truth.”
He opened his mouth and shut it again.
Satisfied, Judith turned to see Lydia and Matthew bearing down on them. “By the way? The Serpentine is quite lovely. If anyone asks, I’ve been entranced by the reflections of the lovely blue sky on the water.”
“I…er…” His customary aplomb seemed to have deserted him.
Judith turned to the others with a cheerful smile. Her first foray into flirtation had turned out rather well.
*~~*~~*
“I’m not sure, Laurie.”
Lady Maud was staring at the dais that her husband had insisted be added to their ballroom renovation scheme.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Well, nothing really, it’s just…perhaps a bit high?” She looked at the design he’d sketched. “If we ever have reason to put a harp on it, the top might just get tangled in the chandelier…and we’re absolutely not moving that!”
“Oh.” Sir Laurence pursed his lips, turned to the end of the room under discussion, then seized several measuring sticks and walked over. “Give me a hand here, Maud, if you would?”
She strolled to his side, enjoying watching him work out the details.
“Hold this. Dead straight if you can.”
“Yes, dear.” She took a stick which was marked at what she assumed was the height of the dais. Almost at her nose, and she wasn’t a short woman by any means.
“Right.” He pulled over a stepladder, making quite awful sounds on the flooring.
She clenched her teeth and winced.
“Sorry.” He acknowledged the sounds, but finally ended up several feet away from her. “Now, with this stick at the approximate height of a grand piano…”
She remained silent though words trembled on her lips.
“And adding another—let’s say three feet for a harp?” He glanced down. “How big are the damn things, anyway?”
“Not a clue. But I remember Ann Clevedon telling me she had to repaint several doorways that were scraped the last time she held a recital for some likely lass who played one…”
“I devoutly hope we number exactly none of those likely lasses amongst our acquaintance, dear.”
“I can’t think of any offhand, but still…it pays to be prepared.”
“I suppose so.” Sir Laurence sighed. “Much as it pains me to admit it, you’re right. A five-foot dais, while giving everyone a perfect view of the musicians—and vice versa, I might add—really is a wee bit too high.” He clambered down the stepladder and dragged it back to its original position.
“Still it will save a few shillings if we reduce the height by…hmm,” he returned to the drawings and made several adjustments, muttering to himself as he did so.
“I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the result.” Maud looked around, surveying the improvements.
It was a room with lovely lines, there was no question. Arches curved over windows and doorways, softening the whole, and bringing a touch of elegance without excess. The French doors that led to the small garden had been refinished and now glowed with a rich warmth that matched the wainscoting. Maud had selected a pastel peach finish for the walls, so subtle it was more of a blush on ivory silk, but once again it emphasised the simple style of the room.
She had but one goal in mind…to present her Wednesday club members in as attractive a setting as possible. And, secretly, to outdo Almack’s at every turn. Although given the size of her residence, she could never hope to host as many attendees as that august venue.
“Do we have a probable date for completion, Laurie?” She moved to the window, watching the wind blow leaves into piles against the walls and hedges.
“I’d say no more than a week. The dais is the last piece of construction and it is an easy build, I’m told. Also moveable, since the carpenter is making it in sections.”
Maud glanced at him. “Oh, lovely idea. Yours?”
“Well, I hate to be immodest…”
She grinned. “Of course you do. But it is a splendid notion.”
&nbs
p; “I like to think so.”
“Very well then. I can begin working on the guest list for two weeks from this Wednesday. It will be interesting to see who is still in town and might wish to attend. And then I must think of refreshments.” She tapped a finger on her chin as her mind whirled. “Something reflecting the time of year. Warmed wine perhaps…”
“All your department, my love,” muttered Sir Laurence.
“And a new dress for Judith,” she added, more to herself. “Definitely a new dress. Something…unique.”
“Maud…?” Laurie was staring at her. “What are you up to?”
“Me?” She blinked innocently.
“Yes, darling, you. After all the years we’ve been wed, do you imagine I can’t tell when you’re plotting?”
“I wouldn’t call it plotting, exactly…”
“What would you call it then?”
“Er…” she thought about it, “perhaps just laying out potential possibilities.”
“Hah,” snorted her husband. “That’s plotting. Just in different words.”
“I love you.” When in trouble, always resort to affectionate caresses. Maud had learned the value of that advice quite early in her marriage. “I can’t wait to dance with you in this room.”
“Then dance you shall.” Sir Laurence put his pencil down, pushed the measuring sticks out of the way, and held out his arms to his wife.
She walked into them willingly, laughing as he put his hand low on her back and pulled her close.
“Our waltz, my Lady,” he murmured.
“Always, my Lord,” she replied.
As if to a secret tune only they could hear, they waltzed the length of the new ballroom, perfectly in step, their reflections sliding from one of the large wall mirrors to the next. The sun broke from beneath the clouds and rays dappled their progress.
It was, thought Maud, a magic moment between them.
“If your gown was a wee bit lower, I could see more of your beautiful breasts, my darling. Give it a tug?”
She rolled her eyes. Here she was, thinking romantic magic, and the man providing it had his mind on her tits.