Page 38 of The Gentlewoman Companion (The Gentlewoman #4)

“I see you are as stricken as I,” Lady Halverton said. “Tragically, Miss Cron will not be riding with you today, but I sent James to fetch Miss Trelawney.” After a pause, “The injustice! Miss Cron wished to marry, but her chances are low.”

Lady Halverton continued lamenting the loss of Miss Cron, but Louisa retreated into herself, all the exhaustion of keeping her secret tight falling heavily on her shoulders, rippling over her arms, sinking into her stomach, and dripping to her feet.

The security of her fine lodgings, of her position, of Lady Halverton and her son’s esteem, could not hold her.

The chair beneath her seemed to disappear as the winds of chance threatened to blow toward the same fate Miss Cron suffered.

“You must go. Hugh is in the parlor.” Lady Halverton’s words brought Louisa back to the present moment. Her ladyship rose and pulled Louisa to her feet.

Lord Halverton, Miss Trelawney, and Mr. Morden turned their eyes upon her as she entered the parlor, each showing pleasure upon seeing her, though Miss Trelawney was a little reticent. With what coldness would they greet her if they knew? Would they send her away as quickly as Miss Cron was exiled?

The urge to flee, to fly, to escape, tortured her even as she returned their good afternoons. Halverton was assuring them that all could fit comfortably in his landau, while Mr. Morden clearly wanted to drive his jauntier phaeton, though it seated only two.

A phaeton! Just the thing to calm the snapping, jumping tightness that popped inside Louisa.

She required the reassuring warmth of the leads in her hands, the bounce of the carriage, the wind in her face.

In truth, she yearned to run until she reached Charles and beg him to hold his silence forever, barter whatever he required to keep her shame hidden.

But she could not excuse herself from company without rousing suspicion.

“I will accompany you in the phaeton,” Louisa blurted, feeling Lord Halverton’s eyes fall upon her. She lifted her chin, keeping her gaze steadily on Mr. Morden, who was both delighted and surprised. Though she half expected Lord Halverton to read her mood and object, he did not.

Mr. Morden glanced between Louisa and Lord Halverton. “James, let’s trade places. I want you to feel how smoothly my phaeton cuts corners, even at a clip.”

Yes. If she was with James—Lord Halverton—their agreement would force him to give up the reins, allowing her to channel her anxieties into leading the horses. She turned her eyes on him, hopeful, but kept her features in check. It would not do to alarm him.

Miss Trelawney fluttered her lashes coquettishly. “I would be delighted to accompany you, Mr. Morden.”

Lord Halverton agreed and fetched Graham, as with two carriages they required two grooms. The two couples settled themselves in their respective carriages and set off for Hyde Park.

Louisa waited for Lord Halverton to offer the reins.

When he did not, she opened her palms for the leads, and he relinquished them.

“Very good,” he said and then tried to get them back.

“Oh, I see,” Louisa said, gripping firmly. “Your promise means nothing.”

“Not when that gleam in your eye tells me you are disposed to jump a fence.”

The carriage rolled round bends with all the ease Mr. Morden promised, which left Louisa with little to do in controlling the horses. She shifted continuously, adjusted the lines this way and that in an effort to soothe her prickling desires to move and act.

“Hold still. You are upsetting the animals.” Halverton put his hands over hers, a circumstance she was conscious would have sent a thrill up her arms if she had not felt so tied up inside.

To appease him, she stilled her bouncing knee and elbowed him to remove his hands. He slid them up the reins, now more in control than she.

“Louisa, you are tapping your feet.”

“I will not be at peace until I am driving.” She needed to control something .

Miss Cron’s banishment was settling into her like a gale.

With Charles threatening to visit, the secret that would banish Louisa seemed only a breath away.

And the man beside her—she would lose him, even as her estimation of him increased.

There. She’d admitted it. She held him as a dear friend, one of the only true friends she had ever known.

But even that was a lie.

Her affection for him was as profound as it was elevated, founded on an admiration for his goodness, his sincerity, his integrity.

Here was a man she could trust. She could not endure the shame if he discovered what she’d done.

The confession of her true feelings constricted her lungs and stung her eyes.

Oh, dear. Not at this moment, not when even a hint of tears would draw his attention.

Not when her hands craved the leather, when her tumultuous insides required action.

Her fingers and toes tingled, and her insides vibrated.

She took the reins just below his hands.

His arms fell to his lap, then hovered over hers again.

“Trust me.” She forced a laugh at her use of the word trust . She was not trustworthy, not the gentlewoman he supposed.

“What has you so on edge?”

“You.” Well, that much was true. “You must relinquish the horses according to our agreement. I’ve been well-instructed.”

He dropped his hands, the heat of his eyes on her as she guided the phaeton around two carriages at an acceptable speed for the park.

“See?” she asked. “I am quite calm now.”

“As calm as a beehive.”

She led the horses around a fountain and maneuvered the carriage beside the landau. Miss Trelawney seemed quite content beside Mr. Morden.

“Shall we race?” Louisa asked Mr. Morden, realizing as she spoke that such a proposition had been her intention all along.

Beside her, Lord Halverton sucked in a breath. “One does not race in Hyde Park.”

“A sour chap, isn’t he?” Mr. Morden said. Miss Trelawney giggled.

“I do not mean we scandalize anyone,” Louisa said. “It is a test of management. Which of us will maneuver to the opposite end of the park first.”

“And you with my sprite little phaeton? Not a fair contest.”

“Are you afraid of being beaten by a lady?” Lord Halverton asked.

His defense was unexpected but warming. What did he mean by it? Endorsing Louisa’s skill or his own in teaching her? Either way, it suited Louisa’s purpose.

“I’ve never seen anyone as natural with the leads as Miss Thorpe. I think she would beat you handily,” Halverton said, “but we cannot test it. I am enough acquainted with you both to know the impossibility that the two of you would not drive each other’s speed up and up.”

Pleased at his confidence in her, Louisa wanted to race even more. “Eyebrows,” she said.

Mr. Morden lifted his brow at her.

“Precisely. If anyone looks at us with a like expression, we will know to slow down.”

“Ladies do not participate in competition, Miss Thorpe.” Miss Trelawney brushed a fold from her skirt and threw her a sidelong look. “This bit of fun will not help your reputation.”

“Thank you for your concern.” Something sour mixed with the excitement that brewed in Louisa’s stomach.

Miss Trelawney could be a yawn, even when she was correct.

The hurt that had accompanied Miss Trelawney’s whispering about Louisa resurfaced.

Kindness for injury was not forgiveness.

She shoved the thought into the cluster that cultivated inside her. “What shall our rules be?”

They debated and settled upon guidelines that would regulate the competition, and Miss Trelawney nodded for the race to begin.

Louisa saw a path through the crowded park and began negotiating her way past pedestrians, horses, and other carriages.

But after only a few seconds, Mr. Peasley, whom she had met at the salon, hailed her.

“Hello, Miss Thorpe,” he said.

She slowed her horses to greet him politely. Miss Trelawney smiled at Louisa as Mr. Morden passed.

“Please excuse me, sir. I am in a rush,” Louisa said, “but I trust I shall see you this evening at…” She couldn’t remember what her plans were, so she let her words trail off and loosed the reins. They moved forward again, but not swiftly enough for her needs.

“Lord Halverton!” Another gentleman on horseback waved at them. Louisa did not like to be rude, especially for her companion’s sake, so she waited.

“Carry on,” Halverton said, signaling off the approaching man.

Louisa maneuvered the horses as quickly as was appropriate but was endlessly waylaid. “How is Mr. Morden moving so quickly?”

“He is ignoring anyone who tries to speak to him.” Halverton laughed.

“A clever strategy. You dismiss those who interrupt, and I will focus on the horses.”

“Agreed.”

When anyone approached, Lord Halverton waved them on or shrugged and pointed at her as if he had no control.

Louisa finessed through the throng until she was a horse span from the landau.

She would not lose. With expert touch, she lengthened the reins enough to pull beside Mr. Morden.

But he sped through the park, disregarding etiquette yet hardly drawing any attention.

Her cheeks flushed, part indignation and part excitement. If Mr. Morden could break the rules with barely a glance, she might as well. Over her shoulder, she said, “Hold tight, Graham,” before shouting, “Go on,” and prodding the horses with the whip.

The gate lay just ahead. James’s hands hovered over the reins, and he was speaking urgently, but his voice was a whoosh in her ears.

It was too dangerous for him to take control at their speed.

Knowing this, she pressed on, cooly dodging anything in her path.

Chill wind forced water from her eyes and bit her ears.

Her cheeks ached from smiling. How glorious, how thrilling to drive faster and faster still, all emotions absorbed in the exhilaration of the moment.

“Gallop!” she cried, and they passed the landau, wound around a curricle and pulled to a stop just short of the gate. Heart thrumming, she cast a triumphant smile at Halverton.

He gripped his seat and let out a shaky breath. “If your intention was not to raise an eyebrow, I’m afraid you failed.” He nodded behind him.

She turned around and beheld several small groups in apparent conference, regarding her with gleefully scandalized expressions.

Gripped firmly, the reins pinched into the flesh of her palm and between her fingers.

With each breath, frigid, sharp air stretched her lungs, harsh and exciting. She relished it, longed for more.

A woman sporting a fine lavender velvet cape trimmed in plum satin locked eyes with Louisa and nodded her head very slightly as if she knew the spectacle was not over. Was it a dare or a warning? For Louisa was not finished. If society would gossip about her, she would give them a story.

Before Mr. Morden came to a full stop, she thundered out the gate, giving the pair their heads.

She rounded a corner, cutting off a hackney whose driver shouted an obscenity.

Never scraping the phaeton once, she did not pull up until arriving in Grosvenor Square, where she halted the vehicle precisely in front of the Halverton’s front door.

She drank the chilled air and let it out in a long sigh.

The thrill of driving at full speed filled her, chasing away troublesome emotions.

She grinned and spoke as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, as if nothing were the matter in the slightest. “That was quite refreshing! Thank you for allowing me to drive per our agreement.” She did not need to look at Lord Halverton.

Feeling his stiff posture beside her was enough.

Graham appeared—thank heavens he was so quick—and helped her shaking frame from the carriage.

She thanked him, catching a glimmer of amusement in his eye.

Then Halverton was in front of her, had taken her by the wrist. “You could have killed us—or someone else.”

“Oh! Not at all. I was in complete control.” With her free hand, she secured a loose hat pin, assuming a calm facade.

His fingers tensed, and her heart pounded in her ears.

Of course he was angry, but it was her reputation to ruin, not his.

Even if he were condemned for allowing her to drive, it would not affect an earl.

His eyes flashed, dark and moody, as he looked past the pretense and posturing until her stomach writhed against what anxiety he must surely see in her.

“What has upset you?” he asked, his voice so gentle it sent a throbbing ache from her chest to her knees.

“I…I am simply anxious to return to your mother. She needs my help with preparations for the salon.”

He did not withdraw his gaze, nor did he respond, and she knew he was asking for the very thing she wanted most in all the world.

She longed to dismantle the barrier that hindered their mutual affection—a great presumption but one that felt as true as the waves that crashed against the Cornish shore.

What would it feel like to land in his arms, to rest against the support of his strength?

Her arms relaxed; her shoulders drooped.

He’d confided in her, trusted her, asked for her advice again and again, while she had grudgingly disclosed only what was necessary.

He wanted her to expose her heart to him. She wanted that, too.

Her lips were slow to part, her tongue heavy. “I…it is only…I feel it closing in on me.”

“If you would but explain, I could help.”

“Not with this.” Let Charles tell him, for she could not. She twisted from his grasp and mounted the steps two at a time.