“Not like that,” he said, grabbing a chip and shoving it in his mouth. “You must enjoy the experience of eating chips with your fingers.”
My upbringing had turned me into a formal eater as I watched him chomp away at his food. If I had dared to pick up anything with my fingers during dinner at our house, I would have received a hard wallop and sent to bed hungry.
“All right then,” I said, grabbing a chip. The greasy fried potato steamed, and as I bit into it, I thought for sure I had burned my tongue.
“You might want to blow on it first,” he said. “Cool it off.”
“I’m such a ninny,” I admitted, looking at the dangling chip clutched between my forefinger and thumb.
“You’ll get used to it. Your father probably wouldn’t approve of my corrupting dining influence on you.” He laughed aloud.
“Well, I don’t care,” I said, shoving the chip in my mouth and savoring each bite. It was quite good. “They need a bit of salt,” I said, grabbing the shaker and giving it a few taps. Feeling like a pro, I picked up two the next time and chewed on the tasty morsel. Reginald ate but kept his eyes on me obviously enjoying my newfound amusement at the pub.
After we had devoured our lunch together, I worried that our precious time had begun to slip away. I caught him glancing at the clock on the wall a few times, indicating he had to get back to work soon.
“Can we do this again?” My suggestion sounded a bit desperate.
“Yes, I’d like that,” he replied.
The waitress interrupted us for a moment to clear our table and leave the bill. She stepped away, and Reginald’s hand slipped across the table and touched me tenderly.
“You are a sweet lady.” His thumb drew little circles on the back of my hand. “It’s my hope, Isabella, that we can see each other often.” After pausing and sucking in a breath, he spoke. “I enjoy being in your company.”
His words warmed my heart. “I’m so glad,” I gushed. “Being with you makes me happy. I feel like a normal human being accepted for whom I am.”
“You’ll be gone next week to Berkshire, I take it.”
I nodded affirmatively. “Frankly, I’m quite anxious that my parents wish to throw me into social circles in the hopes of catching a husband.” The thought made me shudder that their actions could keep me from Reginald.
“Well, they love you and want the best,” he quietly replied.
“You are the best,” I whispered. My heart didn’t want to look elsewhere when the man who had charmed me sat a few feet away still holding my hand. His mouth turned upward into a weak smile while I considered the obstacles between us.
“Call me when you are back,” he said. “And we’ll figure out a way to get together again.” With a quick squeeze, he let go of my hand and rose to his feet. “I must be going.”
Reginald handed me the parcels. He paid the tab, and we walked outdoors and halted on the sidewalk, standing face-to-face.
“Better go find that hat. Make it an outrageous one,” he said.
He eyed me adoringly, which gave me hope that our relationship was growing. Unable to control myself, I glanced at his lips. When he saw my action, he put his finger against them and then kissed me softly on my right cheek.
“Good-bye, Isabella.”
My eyes followed him as he walked down the street and hailed a cab to take him back to the office. When he disappeared, I knew then that I had begun to fall in love.
Chapter Eleven
Hats and Horses
My first Royal Ascot had arrived, but no royalty attended. Perhaps fate had added it to my punishment so that I wouldn’t enjoy my arrival into society as much as I should have. When father told me that King Edward VIII would not attend, my heart sank to the floor. Of course, the nation had lost King George VI in January and mourning lingered. Nevertheless, no one mourned at the Ascot when it came to fashion and hats.
The first two days of the affair had become a whirlwind of ceremonies, horse races, and fine food. Father and Mother dragged me around, reminding me that my status as excess baggage remained. Soon I became bored with introductions, petty conversations, and the glaring sun that had begun to burn my fair skin in my short-sleeve chiffon.
On the day of the Gold Cup, there had been an early morning shower, but by the midafternoon, the sun had reappeared. Thankfully, a light breeze cooled my face but hadn’t blown my hat off into the field. Reginald was quite right about my preferences. After we had parted from our luncheon, I spent a good hour at the millinery shop, trying on at least a dozen choices. I returned home with a brimmed ivory hat, trimmed with a wide taupe ribbon, and pheasant tail feathers swirling off to the side. It was the perfect choice for my outfit.
On the third day, we attended Ladies’ Day because my father was most interested in the Golden Cup. Even though I enjoyed horses, the races were a frenzy of pounding hooves, turf flying in the air, and loud onlookers cheering for their favorite horse. Before the race started, I wandered off for a moment by myself. The landscape of finely dressed ladies with a sea of top hats offered plenty to take in. As I halted to look at the schedule for the day, I glanced up to see Mother heading my way with a gentleman by her side. Instantly I knew an introduction would be forthcoming, so I inhaled a deep breath for fortitude.
“Isabella.” My mother called my name and halted in front of me.
“Mother.”
“Lord Ridley has expressed his interest in an introduction,” she cheerfully announced.
“Really?” My eyes shifted toward the gentleman. He tipped his hat and flashed me a pearly smile.
“Lord Ridley, this is my daughter Isabella,” she announced with a feigned prideful tone.
“Lady Isabella. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
His lordship’s voice sounded like a squeaky hinge that instantly grated upon my ears. My thoughts turned to Reginald’s velvet tone, wishing he were standing with me instead.
“The pleasure is all mine,” I responded. The idiotic words flew out of my mouth from finishing school. Mother grinned at me, and I saw her intent to abandon us to get to know one another.
“Well, I’ll leave you alone to chat,” she said.
After nodding at him, which I considered being her latest offering to push me toward the altar, she disappeared back into the crowd. My stomach tightened as my eyes moved slowly in the direction of the gentleman.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked. “I say, fine weather it turned out to be.”
He took a step closer, and I stepped back. “Somewhat,” I coldly replied. “This is my first time, so the entire affair has been an education, to say the least.”
“Indeed,” he drawled. “I attend every year, hoping one day to have my own horse in the race.”
As hard as I attempted to look him straight in the eye, I found it impossible. His features were pleasant, albeit I thought him too short for my taste. He had wavy blond hair, dark blue eyes, and his physical characteristics exuded aristocratic snobbery. Trying not to pay close attention to him, my eyes glanced over his shoulder into the grandstand. Suddenly I wanted to yelp in glee. There stood Reginald in the distance, watching me. After my heart thumped against my chest, I could only do one thing.
“I do beg your pardon,” my words gasped. “It was nice meeting you, but I have somewhere else that I need to be.”
Without waiting for his reaction or a word to leave his lips, I pushed passed the gentleman and headed toward Reginald. The annoying crowd kept me from a sprint, and after multiple “excuse me” moments of pushing my way forward, I was close enough to wave.
“Reginald!” My hand lifted in the air, and he grinned boyishly at my antics. Because he could not enter the Royal Enclosure, I managed to wiggle my way into the grandstand. After a very unladylike climb over the barrier, I nearly fell at his feet.
“Oh, dear Reginald, it is so good to see you! What are you doing here?” Out of breath and excited, my face burst into a cheeky smile. He looked at me w
ith equal enthusiasm.
“I’m so glad I caught your eye,” he said. “Frankly, I didn’t think I’d be able to see you in the crowd.”
“You didn’t tell me you were coming when we last spoke,” I said, giving him a slight squeeze of his forearm.
“Well, to be honest, since I couldn’t share it with you in the Royal Enclosure, I didn’t think it would matter.”
“It does matter,” I chided him. “I don’t need to be in there with all the stuffy crowd. It will be just fine standing here with you by my side.”
At that moment, they announced that the race would soon start. I could see in the distance the horses lining up at the starting line.
“Do you have a favorite to win?” he asked.
“Well, you’ll need to educate me, because I don’t have a clue about who is who on four legs.”
“I’m betting on Quashed,” he announced. “She’s a great filly. But most think that Omaha, an American horse, will win. He’s pretty unbeatable.”
“Well, I will cheer on your choice.” It felt natural to loop my arm around his as we stood to wait.
“It’s a two-and-a-half-mile race. Let’s hope he keeps his stamina,” Reginald added.
As he finished his statement, the battle to the finish line began. “What number is he?” All I could see was a jumble of horseflesh speeding down the grassy track. Reginald had a small pair of binoculars and quickly immersed himself in the rousing scene. In fact, the entire crowd of a hundred thousand individuals turned their heads to watch.
Of course, I had no idea where the horse was in the mix of the others. Nevertheless, I joined in the occasional “go Quashed” shouts while standing close to Reginald who bellowed the steed’s name.
“What’s happening?” I asked, trying to get Reginald’s attention.
“It’s close.”
After another minute, the crowd raised their voices in a frenzy and the horses headed for the finish line. “Come on Quashed,” Reginald cheered. “Come on!”
As the horses came into view, I could finally see the number identifying Omaha, who was running side by side to Quashed. As he crossed the line where the finish post stood, it looked like a tie to me.
“Who won?” I entreated, grabbing his forearm.
“Not sure,” Reginald said a little more subdued. Need to wait and see. A minute later, a pennant hoisted up a pole showing the number of Quashed, and the crowd went wild. The British had beaten the Americans by a nose.
“Wow, talk about close,” I reacted. Reginald suddenly threw his arms around my waist and hoisted me in the air like the flag, swirling me around in a circle.
“He won!”
Then he set me down on two feet, lowered his head, and planted a kiss on my lips that took my breath away. My head went dizzy, my knees grew weak, and I nearly fainted in the man’s tight embrace. As if he suddenly realized what he had spontaneously done, he drew back wide-eyed.
“I’m sorry, Isabella,” he said. “Quite cheeky of me, I’m afraid, to steal a kiss like that.”
“Steal another,” I pleaded. A smile curled his lips, and he pulled me close. My body molded next to his and fit perfectly. The moistness of his lips and tenderness of his kiss showed me what he held in his heart, and I felt it too. We were falling in love.
It should have been a perfect moment, but as life had shown me in the past, nothing would be easy.
“Isabella!”
My mother’s undeniable shrieking voice met my ears. As soon as I heard it, I pulled away from Reginald and stepped backward. When I did, he put more space between us and turned pale as the grandstand behind him.
“Let me handle this, Reginald. You need not get involved.”
“But I am involved,” he replied. “This affects both of us.”
“Please,” I pleaded. “Mother will feed you to the horses. I know how to appease her wrath.”
Reginald conceded and nodded. I gave his hand a quick squeeze and then approached my mother.
“I’m coming,” I yelled. Once again, I made a rather unladylike maneuver, returning to the enclosure. Without hesitation, I grabbed her by the arm and led her away. “You may spill your displeasure elsewhere but not in front of Reginald.” Surprised that I even had the gall to speak to her like that gave me empowerment to face the impending hell. Mother wiggled out of my grasp.
“Let go of me,” she growled. “What do you think you were doing, young lady, kissing that man in public?”
“We were celebrating the win,” my nonchalant words replied. “Nothing more.”
“I leave you with Lord Ridley, and you climb into the grandstand like a commoner. I’m warning you, Isabella...”
“Or what?” I replied, stopping in the middle of the crowd. “You and Father will send me off to another finishing school on the Continent? I’m a grown woman now, and I can make my choices.”
“We’ll see about that.” She huffed. “Your rudeness to Lord Ridley is unforgivable.”
When I had returned to my father’s presence, I tried to make light of the situation. “Did your horse win, Father?”
He shook his head and scowled. “No, lost by a nose.”
After hearing the news, I wanted to make a snide remark but held my words. I had no idea why he would gamble on an American horse but apparently thought it unbeatable like many other spectators.
“I see your mother has retrieved you from your wanderings,” he commented, narrowing his eyes. “We’ll discuss it when we get home. I’m in no mood at the moment.”
After that remark, he walked in front of us, expecting Mother and me to follow along. It was time to return to the estate and face my latest chastisement. The lingering taste of Reginald upon my lips would give me the strength to stand my ground.
My eyes darted toward the grandstand, but I could no longer see his handsome face.
Chapter Twelve
Lines Are Drawn
Perhaps I had been foolish to think that I would be allowed to do as I pleased. The displeasure upon the faces of my parents haunted me the trip home though nothing of essence had been spoken. Father stared out the window, no doubt ruminating over Omaha’s loss of the race, making me wonder if he had lost a tidy sum. Mother, on the other hand, bore her beady eyes of anger in my direction, which for the most part I successfully ignored.
After we had arrived home, we all disbursed our separate ways while the servants brought in our luggage. Father off to his study. Mother to the parlor, barking orders for tea. When I turned to climb the stairs, her crackling voice called after me.
“Isabella, I wish a word with you.”
Hesitant and not in the mood, I slowly turned around to face her. “Can this wait until later? I am tired and wish a bath.” Mother glared at me and then relented.
“Fine. No doubt your father shall wish to join the discussion. Meet us here in the parlor a half hour before the gong sounds for dinner.”
The gong. I wanted to walk over, grab the hammer, and hit the damn thing a thousand times out of frustration.
“Well, why don’t we send for Father and get this over with,” I suggested. “No use putting off the inescapable.”
Mother’s eyes widened at my brashness. As the maid entered with a tray of tea and biscuits, she took me up on my offer.
“Mildred, would you be so kind as to ask his lordship to join us in the parlor for tea? I believe you can find him in the study.”
“Yes, your ladyship.”
After a quick curtsy, she departed to do her task, and I sat down in a single chair across from Mother. A few moments later, Father arrived looking displeased at the summons.
“You wish to see me?”
“Yes, dear, have a seat,” Mother said. She quickly rose, walked over to the parlor door, and shut it.
“What’s this about?” Father asked, glancing back and forth at the two of us.
“About my behavior,” I quickly interjected, not wishing to give Mother an upper hand. “She no doubt wants
to tell you that she caught me kissing Reginald Spencer in the grandstand after the race this afternoon.”
“You what?” my father hollered, flashing a harsh glare.
“Precisely,” Mother countered. “Shameless behavior in public. I quickly removed her from the situation.”
“Now wait a minute,” I protested, glowering at her in return. “If I remember right, it was I who willingly removed myself, grabbed your arm, and led you away.”
“I am not the one on trial here,” she quipped in return.
“Trial?” I shook my head and laughed. “So that’s it. Are you going to punish me again by sending me away?”
“Well, let me settle this once and for all,” Father announced. “Might I ask what is going on between you and Reginald?”
“He’s a friend.” I lifted my chin, showing no embarrassment. “When he escorted me home from France, we formed a friendship of sorts.”
“Well, if he’s kissed you, obviously he wants something more,” Father gruffly concluded.
“Perhaps.” After a short pause, I explained it away. “His horse won, and in his excitement, he just kissed me in a celebratory fashion.”
“Well, it didn’t look like that to me,” Mother countered with a huff. “You had your arms around his neck and were kissing him in return.”
“I enjoyed it. Reginald is a nice man.”
“As long as that’s the end of it,” Father said matter-of-factly. “There is to be no consorting between the two of you any further.”
“And if there is, then what?” Naturally, I had to press the matter but gulped afterward.
“Then I will be forced to make an unpleasant decision, Isabella, which could harm his career.” He shot a threatening glare in my direction.
“You wouldn’t,” I countered, narrowing my eyes. “How could you do something so cruel?”
“He’s not for you,” Mother added. “Lord Ridley has an interest in you, Isabella. In spite of your spurning of the gentleman earlier today, he has invited us to dinner.”
How drab and dull. The thought of vomiting in his soup crossed my mind. The scheme would be perfect for the gentleman to corner me in an attempt to woo my affections.
Ladies of Disgrace Box Set Page 8