Page 12 of An Earl Like You (Games Earls Play #6)
Chapter
Six
“ G arden parties are awful things, Windham.” Hayward drained the last of his lemonade and set the tiny glass cup aside. “I will bear you a grudge for all eternity for dragging me here today.”
“You’re in a temper.” To be fair, he had forced his friend from his bed rather early this morning, and after a late night at White’s last evening, too. Poor Hayward, who made it a point to be impeccably attired, was a trifle less splendid than usual today.
And that was putting it kindly. To put it unkindly, he looked as if he’d been dragged backward through a knothole.
“You may blame Lady Farthingale for my temper,” Hayward shot back with a scowl. “Of all the dull entertainments with which the ton contrives to amuse themselves during the season, the garden party is the most diabolical.”
“Diabolical? That’s doing it a bit brown, surely. What’s so diabolical about them? It seems a pleasant enough way to pass a morning.”
“That’s the treachery of the thing! Don’t you see, Windham? They seduce one with promises of sun and fresh air. Who, after all, can complain of sunshine and fresh air?”
“You seem to be doing a good job of it, Hayward.”
“Nonsense. I never complain.”
Cass snorted. “No, of course not.”
“It’s the stinging insects I take issue with, and the unpredictability of the weather.
It’s London in the spring, for God’s sake.
And would you look at poor old Lady Everhardt stumbling about?
The uneven ground is a hazard for the less surefooted among us.
Mark my words, Windham. Today will end with a half-dozen twisted ankles. ”
Cass nodded, but he was only half-listening to this harangue. His attention was on Lady Laetitia, who was arranging herself to picturesque advantage on a picnic blanket in the center of Lady Farthingale’s lawn.
“Dear God, I’m parched.” Hayward fumbled for his handkerchief and patted the perspiration from his brow. “Why is it so bloody hot? And what does Lady Farthingale mean, serving lemonade in a glass the size of a thimble?”
Cass shrugged. He didn’t have the patience for Hayward’s theatrics. He needed his wits about him this morning, just in case Hattie did come today, as she’d vowed she would.
The stubborn chit.
Someone had to keep an eye on the Parrish sisters until Lord Melrose arrived in London.
Lady Fosberry would do her part, yes, but she couldn’t watch all three of them at once, and it wasn’t as if they’d go unnoticed.
With their pretty faces and fat dowries, every scoundrel in London would be upon them like insects buzzing around a tray of sweets.
God knew no one else in London was going to keep them out of mischief, aside from Lady Fosberry, so for better or worse, the task had fallen on him. Yet at the same time it couldn’t appear as if he were preoccupied with them, unless he wished to bring Lady Laetitia’s ire down upon them.
A tricky balance, that, and he’d made a mess of it yesterday.
It had been careless of him to linger beside Lady Fosberry’s carriage in Berkeley Square. Laetitia had taken notice of it. She hadn’t been at all pleased about it, and her mother, Lady Tremblay would be apoplectic if she suspected he’d slighted Laetitia in favor of the Parrish sisters.
Some ten paces away, Laetitia had settled at last, and a knot of young ladies were now gathered around her, fluttering about like a kaleidoscope of pastel butterflies. Yes, that would do. Laetitia wasn’t likely to move if she remained at the center of a crowd of admirers.
But perhaps Hattie wouldn’t come, after all, despite her threats yesterday. She hadn’t made an appearance yet, and the party had begun nearly an hour ago.
She’d never made a secret of her distaste for Town and the ton . No, of course she wouldn’t come?—
“Well, well, well.” Beside him, Hayward let out a low whistle. “What have we here?”
Cass turned to follow the direction of Hayward’s gaze and froze. There, standing in the open French doors that led out onto Lady Farthingale’s terrace stood Margaret, Hattie and Sarah Parrish, with every eye upon them.
It shouldn’t have surprised him that Hattie had proved to be as good as her word. She’d warned him she’d certainly be here this morning, but still he stood there gaping at her like a fool as she stepped onto the edge of the lawn, the morning sun flirting with the bright golden strands of her hair.
Margaret followed her, then Lady Fosberry, nodding at something Lady Dumfries was saying to her, her arm linked with Sarah’s.
But it was Hattie he couldn’t look away from.
She turned toward him, as if she could feel the weight of his gaze on her. Their eyes met, and just like that they were opposite poles circling each other, the attraction holding them in its thrall even when there were dozens of people between them.
“Do stop gawking, Windham. You’re gaping at them as if you’ve seen an apparition.
Then again, one can hardly blame you. The Parrish sisters are rather decorative, are they not?
I’ll say this for garden parties. The young ladies do appear to great advantage in the sunshine.
They’re rather like exotic birds, with their bright skirts and parasols. ”
Cass merely grunted, but Hayward wasn’t deterred. “Tell me, which of the Parrish sisters has taken your fancy?”
“None of them,” Cass lied, turning away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any interest in any of them.”
“Of course, you do. You’re a dreadful liar, Windham.
There isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t notice the Parrish sisters.
I’m rather partial to Sarah Parrish, myself.
Odd, really, as I don’t recall her being a particularly promising child when I visited Melrose in Kent, but she was quite young at the time.
” Hayward cocked his head, studying her.
“Lovely girl, and a bit saucy, I think. I do like a lady of spirit.”
“She was sickly as a child and was kept mostly indoors, apart from any excitement.” Hattie had confided in one of her letters that for years the family had lived in fear they’d lose Sarah. “She suffered from weak lungs.”
Hayward’s eyebrows shot up. “Indeed? She appears perfectly sturdy now. But tell me, how do you happen to know so much about the Parrish family?”
Damn it. “I don’t…I never said I…I suppose I must have heard it somewhere.”
“I see. Is that all? Because you behaved rather oddly when we met them at Gunter’s yesterday. No one would ever accuse you of being charming, Windham, but I’ve never known your manners to fail so thoroughly as they did yesterday.”
He couldn’t deny it. He’d behaved abominably, and one could never get away with ungentlemanly behavior around Hayward. “I didn’t?—”
“Never mind, Windham.” Hayward waved a hand. “Keep your secrets, if you must.”
Just then, Sarah threw her head back in a tinkling laugh at something Lady Fosberry had said, and several people turned to smile at her as the sweet sound echoed in the clear morning air.
“Nothing wrong with her lungs now,” Hayward remarked. “Very pretty, indeed. Perhaps I’ll invite her to accompany me on the lilac walk. Shall we go and greet them?”
It wasn’t a good idea. God only knew what he’d blurt out as soon as he opened his mouth. He’d learned to be careful with people once he’d inherited his title, but he had no defenses against Hattie.
How could he? She knew him too well for that, better even than he knew himself.
“Not me, thank you.” Lady Laetitia had been staring at him since the Parrish sisters arrived, her chilly blue gaze like an artic blast against the side of his face. “You go on, Hayward.”
He nudged Hayward toward the bright little trio then turned his back on them, instead making his way across the lawn toward Laetitia, but he couldn’t banish Hattie from his mind as easily as he banished her from his sight.
What was she doing here? He’d asked her a dozen times yesterday, but she’d never given him a satisfactory answer to that question.
She claimed they’d come for the Horticultural Society’s lectures, to hear Sir Joseph Banks, but as interested as Hattie was in plants and flowers, the lectures were hardly enough to lure her to London.
Especially during the season.
What could possibly have induced her to come here, then? And where the devil were Lord and Lady Melrose? Had their brother truly sent his sisters to London unaccompanied, as Hattie claimed?
It didn’t seem likely. Johnathan Parrish was wildly protective of his younger sisters, yet here they were, at the mercy of every fortune hunter and scoundrel in Town for the season, and Melrose nowhere to be found.
Damn it, none of this made any sense.
If Hattie intended to remain for the entirety of the season, he was certain to encounter her at every social event the haute ton had to offer.
Lord Melrose was a well-respected gentleman, admired by all.
No one would dream of offending him by slighting his sisters, and they were Lady Fosberry’s guests, as well.
Her ladyship knew everyone and was invited everywhere.
“Windham, here you are at last.” Lady Tremblay, Laetitia’s mother laid a proprietary hand on his arm as he joined their company. “Not a moment too soon, too. We’re panting for some lemonade, aren’t we, Laetitia?”
Laetitia didn’t reply, nor did she offer him so much as a good morning, but nodded toward the Parrish sisters, her blue eyes narrowed. “Aren’t those the same ladies we saw at Gunter’s yesterday?”
Cass ignored the question, offering her a bow instead. “Good morning, Laetitia. Will you have lemonade or tea?”
But Laetitia would not be put off so easily. “Yes, I’m sure that’s them. How curious, that they should have turned up again. I never laid eyes on them before yesterday. Who are they, Windham?”