THE LATE AFTERNOON SUN made long shadows of the trees and more people wore heavy attire than not, but that hadn't stopped most of London turning out to promenade around Hyde Park. It also hadn't stopped Violet from insisting on breaking in her new phaeton.
The phaeton lurched forward and, bracing herself, Lydia gripped the side, her fingers digging into the soft lining. Unfortunately, Violet was not the most talented driver.
Laughing nervously, Violet gathered the reins in her hands. “I promise you, I have this under control.”
“Of course.” Lydia removed her claw-like grip from the padded edge.
“Simon showed me only yesterday the best way to steer the horses.”
“Steer?”
“Drive. Whatever.”
“I don’t think your brother is the most reliable source of information. Did he not crash his phaeton last week?”
“That was on Rotten Row. He was going entirely too fast. I shall not do the same.” Violet urged the horses forward and they, seemingly confused, somehow still managed to take a step in the general direction they were headed.
Turning her head, Lydia ignored the stop-start of the phaeton as they slowly picked their way along Ladies’ Mile. As long as she didn’t observe Violet’s attempt to drive the phaeton, all would be well. That was how it worked, surely.
Tugging on the reins, Violet struggled to contain the horses, who seemed to be interested in anything but pulling the phaeton. “I don't understand.” Brows drawn, Violet stared at the horses. “Even Anne is competent at this.”
“Your sister has been horse-mad since she was in leading strings. Remind me, when did you learn to drive a pair? Yesterday,” Lydia answered helpfully. “It was yesterday.”
Violet shot her an annoyed look, only to have the most ferocious scowl overtake on her features. “Dear God.”
“What is it?” Turning, she followed Violet's line of sight. There really was only one person who inspired such loathing in her friend, and she smiled when she saw him. “Ah. The Duke of Meacham approaches.”
Her friend's scowl grew more thunderous. “Why is he coming over?”
“Because he is a polite gentleman who has the acquaintance of us both?”
“Would that he forgot our connection,” Violet muttered.
Lydia tutted. “You won’t attract a husband with that attitude.”
Her friend snorted.
Meacham approached, smile wide as he placed a boot on the phaeton’s step. “Lady Lydia, how fortunate. I was hoping I might see you.”
“And I, you, Lord Meacham. You remember Lady Violet Crafers?”
“I do.” His grin turned to a smirk. “Lady Violet, you cut quite a swathe through the carriages of Ladies' Mile. Truly, I have never seen such...enthusiasm at the reins in my life.”
Violet glared at him, and quite pointedly offered no greeting.
As surreptitiously as she could, Lydia elbowed her.
“Hello, your grace,” Violet said reluctantly.
His smile widened. Turning his gaze to Lydia, he said, “Lady Lydia, would you care to walk with me?”
Violet opened her mouth.
“I'll have her back to you safe and sound, Lady Violet,” he said, cutting her off.
Sulkily, Violet crossed her arms.
“I cannot walk with you, sir. I wear not the correct footwear.” Lydia brandished her feet.
He glanced at the sturdy leather books she wore. “So I see, my lady,” he said gravely. “Such delicate articles should not make contact with the ground. I shall shuck my coat and your feet need never touch the rude earth.”
“I could never allow you to do such a thing. Your jacket is too exquisite. Your cloak, however...”
“Yes. My cloak is a sad item of clothing. It would do well as a sacrifice for a lady.”
They grinned at each other.
“You two are so peculiar,” Violet said sourly.
Lord Meacham smirked. Holding out his arm, he said to Lydia, “Shall we?”
Grinning in return, she took his arm and descended from the phaeton. “Let’s.”
They strolled along the Mile. “How is your family?” Meacham asked.
“They are well. My father asks your opinion on the current bond market. I believe you were speaking of it previously? ”
“Yes, we were. I shall be sure to send him a note.” He glanced at her. “Your sister was to travel, was she not?”
“She was. To our family estate in Northumberland.”
“I have long admired Lady Alexandra. She follows her own path.”
What an exquisite way to say her sister was odd. “She does indeed. You know of her interest?”
“I do. It is intriguing, and she writes eloquently of it.”
“You have read her articles?”
“I have. She is much taken with Waithe Hall. The story of the housekeeper with the lost keys is a particular favourite.”
“Good Lord, I have heard that story over and over. She is forever discussing it. Oliver says That is, Lord Roxwaithe is amused by her interest, and as our families are close, he is happy for her to investigate the tale and its origin.”
He was silent a moment. “You are often with Lord Roxwaithe.”
“I am. I grew up with him, and he and my father often discuss business. He is as a brother to me.” The claim felt like ash on her tongue. She had not, nor had she ever, regarded Oliver as a brother, however, perhaps if she said the words enough, she would believe them.
“A brother.” He was silent a moment. “And Lord George still tours the Continent?”
“He does.” She glanced at him. His gaze was forward, his expression considering. “My parents seek to join him in the coming month.”
“And will you, as well?”
“I had not considered it, but perhaps.”
“If I may say, I would hope you remain in London. There would be many who would miss you, should you decide to leave England’s shores.”
She didn’t know how to reply. She knew Meacham sought to court her, but this was as blatant as he’d ever been.
“Although I would warrant your interest in architecture was piqued by your own journey to the Continent.”
She’d mentioned her interest once, in passing, during a dance. Impressive that he’d twice now remembered. “I am happy with the architecture of London. There is much to discover, if one but looks.”
“Indeed there is. Speaking of which, there is a lecture on the repair and reconstruction of St Paul’s on Thursday next. I believe there may even be a viewing of Wren’s original notes. It would delight me if you would allow me to escort you.”
She tilted her head. He had clearly done his research, and was determined in his suit. She did like him. She had enjoyed their time together in Vienna, and this time in London. She could entertain his suit. Perhaps he would be someone she could picture her life with. “I should like that very much.”
His eyes lit with warmth before glancing past her. “I should return you to Lady Violet before her scowls set me to flame.”
She looked at her friend. Sure enough, Violet shot them looks that clearly spoke of his demise.
A devil took her. “Perhaps we should walk further. I feel the need for exercise.”
“But your friend—”
“Yes. My friend.” She raised her brow.
A slow smile dawned on his features. “Indeed, Lady Lydia. Perhaps we shall take the long way?”
“Perhaps we shall.” Linking arms with him, they made sure they strolled. For a long time.
***
At pace, Oliver strode down Ladies’ Mile. If he’d had any goddamn sense, he would have a horse made available for this jaunt to Hyde Park but apparently his brain was not working as it should. Instead, he’d rushed from the Roxegate as if the fires of hell pursued him, and without any thought. He was lucky he’d remembered a hat, coat, gloves and walking stick, and even then it was because his butler had pressed them upon him.
Quickening his pace, he scanned those who paraded looking for Lydia. He’d tried to work all afternoon, but his mind kept wandering, and then he would think of something and want to tell Lydia. Finally, he’d given in. She’d said she was going for a drive with her friend Violet in Hyde Park, so here he was, weaving in and out of societal traffic.
“Roxwaithe!”
Brows drawn, he turned. Wainwright approached, a stupid grin on his handsome face.
“What are you doing here?” Oliver asked. “Shouldn’t you be in the country?”
“Lady Wainwright decided we must remain in London until the season officially ended and I am, as always, her slave. Besides which, there was a cracking football match between Westminster and Eton on Saturday that I thought I should attend. For reasons.”
“Of course.”
“What are you doing here? Can’t remember the last time I saw you in Hyde Park.” He looked Oliver up and down. “And on foot.”
“No reason.”
“Well, don’t look now, but your ‘no reason’ is walking with a duke.”
He almost wrenched his neck turning so fast. Lydia did indeed walk with Meacham, their heads close. She laughed, her hand swatting the man’s forearm.
Anger, annoyance tore through him. He refused to label it jealousy.
Wainwright shook his head. “Yes, I can see that nothing at all has tempted you from your study.”
“It is nothing. I merely thought to tell her of a lecture I saw advertised. She has an interest in architecture.”
“Yes, I know. You have told me. Many, many times.” Wainwright looked at him curiously. “You are aware men our age marry women her age all the time.”
“What?”
“Take her duke. He is only four years our younger.”
“Five.”
“Four. Five. He is still almost a decade older than her.”
“But she is not marrying him.”
“Yet. She is not marrying him yet.”
A protest leapt, but he wrestled it silent.
“Someone will marry her, you know,” Wainwright said. “Why can’t it be you?”
Oliver stabbed at the ground with his walking stick. “I don’t feel that way.”
Wainwright started to laugh, only to cut off abruptly when Oliver didn’t join him. “Oh. You are serious.”
“She deserves someone her own age.”
“Doesn’t she deserve the person she wants? And, from all accounts, that person is you.”
“She wants Meacham.”
“Well. You would know.”
“Why did you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Snidely.”
Of course Wainwright didn’t answer. Bloody bastard. “I saw your brother the other night,” his friend said instead. “He was with the Waller-Mitchell girl.”
“Who?” Waller-Mitchell…. Was she the woman who always gave Lydia grief? “Why was he with her?”
“I don’t know. It was only for a moment, but you don’t want to allow that relationship to continue. The girl is trouble.”
“I know. I’ll speak to him.” He glanced at Lydia. She was still with Meacham. Brows drawing, he watched them. They made a handsome couple. His gaze wandered over her. She was so pretty. So full of wit and intelligence. Why wouldn’t Meacham want her? Why wouldn’t any man?
Wainwright watched him closely. “Yes. You clearly have no feelings for her.”
“Do you have any plans?” he asked his friend abruptly.
“I have the strangest feeling I am about to.”
“Come to the club. Let us see the newest whiskies they have available.”
“I shall come, but know Lady Wainwright expects me home for our evening meal.”
“We will have you home well before then.” Turning on his heel, he did the right thing.
He let Lydia go.