A Season of Romance

by Wendy Soliman

  Lucy turned again to the mirror. There was no denying the riding habit was an excellent cut, accentuating the curves of her dainty figure and tiny waist before the full skirts flared out over her hips and fell away in soft folds. She laughed suddenly.

  ‘I shall have to keep my head up and pretend I have not a care in the world! Pray, help me to change and we shall hang this up in readiness for tomorrow.’

  It was eleven o’clock before Lucia was back in her morning gown and Grace gave a little start when the chimes of the clock in the hall below drifted into the room.

  ‘Heavens, is it so very late? I must go, Mrs Arbuttle is bringing her daughter for another fitting this afternoon.’

  ‘You go down with her, Lucia,’ said Morry, picking up the riding habit from the bed. ‘I will hang this up and tidy everything away here.’

  ‘You are doing very well,’ said Lucy, as she ran lightly down the stairs with her cousin. ‘I never expected you to be quite so busy this soon. Why, we are not yet in May.’

  ‘I know, it is very gratifying.’ They had reached the first landing, and Grace picked up her cloak from the bench and threw it about her shoulders. ‘I never expected business to be so rewarding.’

  ‘You are enjoying yourself?’ Grace’s shining face gave Lucia her answer and she gave her a quick hug. ‘Oh Cousin, I am so happy for you!’

  They were going down the final staircase when they heard the knocker and a solemn voice asking for Lady Quidenham.

  ‘Oh lord,’ muttered Lucy. ‘It is Mr Chawton.’

  Lucia schooled her face into a smile as the gentleman, seeing a movement on the stairs, spotted her.

  ‘Ah, Miss Luckington!’ He stopped. ‘You are going out, perhaps?’

  ‘No, no. Do come up, sir. Lady Quidenham is in the morning room, I will take you to her.’

  She said goodbye to Grace and waited at the bottom of the stairs for Mr Chawton, who was handing his hat and cane to the waiting footman. He set off across the hall but stopped when Grace, hurrying in the other direction, dropped one of her gloves.

  ‘Allow me, ma’am.’

  He scooped it up, smiling and handed it to Grace, who thanked him prettily in her soft, shy way. He nodded, then walked on towards Lucia.

  ‘I hope I have not driven away your young friend, Miss Luckington?’

  ‘Miss Bower is a modiste, sir,’ she told him, seizing the opportunity to increase Grace’s renown. ‘She has premises in Orchard Street.’

  ‘Indeed?’ He glanced back over his shoulder and watched Grace slip out of the door before following Lucy up to the morning room.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was a clear and sunny May morning, with no more than a light breeze. Excellent riding weather, thought Lucia as Betty helped her into her riding habit. She fastened the jacket and smoothed her hands down over the soft wool. Excitement rippled through her, tinged with anxiety. She loved riding but had not been on a horse for a long time, and could only hope that she had not lost her skill.

  It had been agreed that Miss Claversham’s groom would bring the grey mare to Portman Square and then escort Lucia to join the others at Grafton Street, from where they would ride on to the village of Kensington and stop for refreshments at the tea gardens.

  When she stepped out of the house, Lucia was surprised to discover that her escort was not Verity’s groom, but her brother.

  ‘Sir Darius! Is something amiss, is our outing cancelled?’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that.’ He jumped easily down from the glossy bay hunter and handed the reins to the groom riding behind him. ‘I am afraid the rest of the party is a little delayed. I said I would come on and meet you.’

  ‘Of course. Why else would you have brought the grey?’ She moved over towards the mare and put out one hand to rub the velvety nose. ‘So, this is Juno. She is beautiful.’

  ‘Fast, too, despite her size.’

  She laughed. ‘I have often wished I was taller, like the willowy models in the fashion plates, but now I am glad I am not.’

  She flushed, hoping he would not think she was fishing for a compliment. He said nothing, however, but checked the mare’s saddle before turning to Lucia.

  ‘She will stand while I throw you up.’ He noted her hesitation and added, ‘Lewis, my groom can do it if you prefer.’

  ‘But he is looking after your own horse,’ she replied, ever practical. She added, with false sweetness, ‘I am sure you are perfectly capable.’

  The look he threw at her made Lucy giggle, but it relieved the tension of the moment. She allowed him to help her to mount and watched in silence while he adjusted girth and stirrup.

  ‘There, you’ll do.’ He patted the mare’s neck. ‘She is very fresh. Do you think you can handle her?’

  ‘I believe so.’ She shook out her skirts more decorously and gathered up the reins. ‘I am not a novice, Sir Darius.’

  ‘But you are not used to busy streets,’ he countered. He remounted and brought the great horse round beside her. ‘Keep close to me. Brutus is an old hand at dealing with London traffic.’

  They set off and for the first few minutes Lucy concentrated on gaining mastery of her spirited mount and negotiating the numerous carts, waggons and carriages that thronged the streets. Having assured her companion she could ride she was determined not to allow the mare to get the better of her.

  When they reached Oxford Street and Sir Darius turned to the right, she glanced up at him.

  ‘Are we not meeting everyone at Grafton Street?’

  ‘No. We will cut through the park and wait for them at the Hyde Park Turnpike.’

  The park was quiet at that time in the morning and Lucia was able to relax a little. After a short canter she felt even better.

  ‘Well, that relieves my mind of one worry,’ remarked Sir Darius, as they returned to a walk. ‘At least you can ride.’

  She felt a sting of indignation but he was grinning down at her and instead of retorting sharply, she laughed back at him.

  ‘Fie upon you for doubting it!’

  ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Luckington. I confess I am impressed. A strange horse and saddle, but you look perfectly at home.’

  ‘Thank you. I hope we can find some open ground where we might enjoy a gallop.’

  ‘There is a stretch of heath beyond Knights Bridge. It is slightly out of our way, but we can gallop there.’

  They rode on in perfect harmony and when they reached the turnpike they had only a few moments to wait before the others joined them. Verity and Mr Garwood were leading the way with Miss Garwood and another gentleman following. As they drew nearer Lucia recognised Lord Applecross.

  ‘I had no notion you were joining us, Tommy!’

  His lordship was in no wise put out by Sir Darius’s less than welcoming tone.

  ‘I remembered hearing you were riding today and begged Garwood to let me join the party.’ He grinned as he touched his hat to Lucia in greeting. ‘Three men, three ladies. Evens things up nicely, what?’

  Lucia thought she was the only one to hear Sir Darius growl as the party rearranged itself and set off again. She found herself riding beside Verity on her glossy chestnut gelding while Sir Darius rode ahead with Gerald Garwood. He was no longer scowling, but the cheerful look had disappeared and she wondered if perhaps he had a tendre for Mary Garwood, who was still riding beside Lord Applecross and chatting happily with him. Yet when the party rearranged itself again and Lord Applecross brought his showy black horse alongside Lucia, Sir Darius chose to remain beside Mr Garwood. Neither Verity nor Mary seemed to mind the arrangement and were busy talking as they made their way towards the village of Kensington.

  Everything was new to Lucia and she tried to take in as much as she could, noting the long wall of the park on their right, separated from the road by numerous old buildings in various states of repair. Eventually she was obliged to apologise to Lord Applecross for not listening to him.

  ‘I beg your pardon for not attending,�
� she confided with a smile. ‘I have never been this way before, you see.’

  Her companion was not in the least offended, and obliged her by pointing out objects of interest, such as the brewery with a cannon on its roof and the Horse Guards’ barracks, almost opposite. The buildings became more sparse, replaced by long open stretches of cultivation, nurseries and market gardens. There was very little traffic and no need for them to ride in pairs, and it was Sir Darius who drew Lucia’s attention to a fine mansion set back on the south side of the road.

  ‘Gore House,’ he told her. ‘The home of the abolitionist Mr Wilberforce. And that lane ahead will take us to the open ground I mentioned, Miss Luckington, where we may enjoy a gallop.’

  His announcement drew an immediate and enthusiastic response from Verity. She patted the glossy neck of her own mount, saying, ‘I have often wondered if Firefly is a match for Juno. What do you say, Lucia, shall we race them?’

  ‘Over rough heathland?’ cried Mary, alarmed, ‘You will surely come to grief.’

  ‘It is not all rough land,’ her brother assured her. ‘The track up to the woods is smooth enough.’

  ‘A race, by Gad!’ Lord Applecross gave a whoop. ‘I’m up for it. Not that it will be much of a contest against Claversham’s Brutus.’

  ‘It will be no contest at all,’ put in Sir Darius, bending a frown upon his sister. ‘Try their paces, by all means, but if I find you racing neck and neck with Miss Luckington, Verity, you will not ride again this season.’

  Miss Claversham pouted, and looked as if she might challenge him.

  Lucia said quickly, ‘Your brother is right, Verity. Let us enjoy a gallop but save an out-and-out contest for another day.’ She added, when she thought Verity might argue, ‘It is my first time upon your beautiful grey. It would hardly be a fair contest.’

  ‘No, you are right,’ Verity conceded at last. ‘A gallop then, and we shall compare these horses when you come to Claversham.’ She set off towards the track, throwing one last, saucy look at her brother as she went. ‘And it is useless to tell me Mama will never allow that, Darius. I shall look to you to persuade her!’

  Lucia noted the sudden tightening of Sir Darius’s mouth and she shook her head at him, saying quietly, ‘Lady Claversham cannot look favourably upon me if she thinks I am going to cut you out of my great-aunt’s will. I have no expectation of being included in any house party.’

  She kicked her horse on, desperate to get away from him, to forget the gossip and suspicions that she knew surrounded her.

  Despite her size, the mare was nimble and very fast. When Lucia put her to the gallop she flew over the rough ground and was soon catching up with Verity. She held back, not wishing to tempt Verity to a race, and was happy to enjoy the exhilaration of the gallop, seeing the ground rush past, feeling the cool spring air on her cheeks. Her spirits lifted. She felt good and she wished Grace might see what a dramatic image she made, with the skirts billowing around her, blood red against the silver white coat of the mare.

  There were still a hundred yards or so of grassy track ahead, before it disappeared into a small copse and Lucy could not resist. She gave the little mare her head and they shot past Verity, whose larger, heavier mount was tiring.

  Verity’s laughing cry of ‘Unfair, Lucia!’ followed her, but she did not draw rein. She could hear the thunder of other hoofs behind her and a slight turn of her head showed her Sir Darius’s bay coming up fast. They plunged into the shadow of the copse, where the grassy lane changed to a leaf-strewn cart-track winding through the trees. She knew she must pull up soon, but before she could act the bay was alongside and Sir Darius stretched across to catch her rein. She gave a cry of outrage but was obliged to concentrate on maintaining her seat as the mare bucked in protest at the new hand on her bridle.

  Lucy had no choice but to allow him to bring both horses to a stand, by which time they were some distance from the other riders, who had slowed to a walk and were now waiting at the edge of the copse. She glared at him.

  ‘What the, the devil do you think you are about?’ she demanded angrily.

  ‘I may ask you the same! Have you no sense?’ He looked down at the riding crop clutched tightly in her hand. ‘I know you would like to lay about me with that whip but pray control yourself.’

  She gasped in outrage. ‘I have every right to be angry. How dare you interfere with my horse!’

  ‘And how dare you be so foolhardy!’ he retorted. ‘If the mare had stumbled you might have been killed. By heaven, even now I am tempted to put you across my knee and spank you for such imprudence!’

  Fury shot through Lucia, but it was arrested as she looked into his face. His mouth was a thin line, the jaw tense but in his narrow eyes there was something more than anger.

  He was afraid for my safety.

  Shaken, she bit back a stinging retort and said stiffly, ‘I beg your pardon, I did not mean to cause anyone concern.’

  ‘Very well.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘We should return to the others.’

  He spoke coldly, and Lucy felt her pleasure in the outing completely destroyed. Tears were not far away, but she could not bear the tense silence.

  ‘I really am very sorry.’

  ‘Now I have upset you. Here.’ He dragged out his handkerchief and handed it to her. ‘Do not cry.’

  ‘I am not crying,’ she muttered, the words muffled by the handkerchief. ‘I despise such weakness.’

  ‘Of course you do. Come now, cheer up. I have made far too much of it. That mare carried my sister for years without mishap. And Verity was far more reckless than you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She managed a smile and offered to return his handkerchief. He shook his head.

  ‘You had best keep it. For the next time I lose my temper with you.’

  She sniffed. ‘I trust there will not be a next time.’

  ‘I hope not.’ He reached across, covering her hand with his own. ‘We could deal better than this, Lucia.’

  The feel of his strong fingers about her own and the tone of his voice sent a wave of shock through her. Was he flirting with her, when a moment ago they were at daggers drawn? How could that be? Her eyes flew to his face to find he was smiling at her, causing her heart to beat erratically against her ribs, making it difficult to breathe. Her hand trembled beneath his and he squeezed it.

  ‘Cry friends with me, my dear.’

  ‘Yes. No! I –’ she looked away, swallowed, tried to control her voice and the tumult of emotions that threatened to bring the tears back again. She was being foolish beyond reason. She took a deep breath.

  ‘Why, naturally I will cry friends with you, Sir Darius. After all, we are some sort of cousins, are we not?’

  ‘We are indeed,’ he replied gravely. ‘Now, shall we join the others?’

  As one they turned their horses and rode back to where the rest of the party were waiting for them. To Lucia it felt as if a lifetime had passed, but no one appeared to make much of their absence, they were all chatting happily together and even her stretched sensibilities could detect nothing more than friendliness when Verity addressed her brother.

  ‘Shame on you, Darius, you expressly forbade me to race then you allow Brutus to chase after Juno! When Lucia galloped by I thought she was racing me, until you flew past after her.’

  Lucia hoped her countenance did not give her away and she glanced at Sir Darius, wondering if he would explain and put the blame where it really belonged. Instead he said coolly, ‘I know, it was very bad of me, but I could not resist it. I only hope Miss Luckington can forgive me.’

  She inclined her head, smiling in what she hoped was a fair attempt at cool amusement.

  ‘You were fortunate, Claversham, that Miss Luckington is such a cracking rider,’ put in Lord Applecross, coming up. ‘Now off you go and let me ride alongside the lady for a while.’ He grinned at her. ‘You don’t want to have Claversham looming over you on that great brute of his. Besides, the gr
ey mare and your red skirts are shown to much better advantage next to my black hunter, don’t you think?’

  Everyone was laughing and Lucia joined in, relieved that the mood had lightened. Sir Darius moved off to talk to Gerald Garwood and the party continued on its way.

  They soon reached Kensington and found the village high street bustling with traffic. When they arrived at the tea gardens they left their horses with the grooms and went inside. Mr Garwood had sent ahead and they found their table waiting for them, already laden with refreshments. For a while Lucia felt ill at ease, knowing she should thank Sir Darius for taking the blame, but he gave her no opportunity and looked perfectly at his ease sitting with Mary and Gerald Garwood. Everyone was in such good spirits it appeared that the incident had been forgotten by everyone save Lucy herself, and by the time they mounted up for the ride back to London she decided it would be wisest not to mention it.

  It had been agreed that the whole party would take dinner at the Garwoods’ house off Piccadilly, from where Lady Winterstoke’s carriage would collect Verity and Lucia and take them to their respective homes at the end of the evening. No one changed their dress for dinner and it was a jolly, informal occasion and afterwards they gathered about the fire in the drawing room, reliving the day while Gerald Garwood handed round glasses of wine or brandy.

  ‘We must do it again,’ declared Mary, when the party at last broke up. ‘My poor hack is quite tired of merely trotting around the park.’

  ‘It has been a most delightful day and I would love to repeat it,’ agreed Verity. ‘Although next time Darius must behave. It was quite despicable of him to race!’

  Lucia’s conscience pricked her uncomfortably.

  ‘Actually, Verity, it was – ‘

  ‘It was indeed.’ Sir Darius interrupted her. ‘Content yourself that it will not happen again, Verity, and let us forget the matter.’

  Lucy had no doubt that he was really addressing himself to her and much as it irked to be beholden to him, there was nothing she could do. He escorted them out to the waiting carriage but when he jumped in after them Verity exclaimed in surprise.