‘Oh, come along, James, you know it is what I want to do above all things.’
‘What! Even above acting in one of Shakespeare’s plays?’
‘At this moment, yes.’
‘Very well.’ He gave her the reins. He did not relinquish complete control, but laid his hands over hers to guide her. Even that small touch sent desire coursing through him and made him wonder how he was going to be able to hold on to his self possession. ‘Slowly, now, and keep the inside horse away from the verge. It is running wheels over bumps and slopes that turns these things over.’
‘I know. You do not need to guide me.’
Reluctantly he took his hand away and they proceeded along the carriageway at a walk which soon became a brisk trot, but when she would have set the horses to canter, he put a hand out to restrain her. ‘That’s enough for today, Vinny. Even I would not be such a bufflehead as to go faster here.’
Reluctantly she slowed the horses. ‘Thank you, James. You are the dearest of men.’
He did not reply. He knew she did not mean the endearment in the way he wanted her to mean it, but it gave him a glow of satisfaction, even so. And then his smile faded as he saw Edmund Wincote riding straight towards them.
He would have liked to pretend they had not seen him, but his lordship was determined he would be acknowledged and reined in almost across their path, startling their horses. Fearing Lavinia would not be equal to the task, James grabbed the reins, which Lavinia was reluctant to relinquish. For a moment it confused the horses and they began pulling in different directions. It took all his considerable skill to regain control of them. As it was, Lavinia was jolted almost out of her seat and her hat went flying.
‘You fool, Wincote!’ James said, hauling the horses to a stop. ‘You could have had us over. As it is you have frightened Lady Lavinia half to death.’
‘Have I?’ the young man said, addressing Lavinia and doffing his riding hat, apparently unperturbed. ‘Then I beg your pardon, my lady.’
‘Think no more of it,’ she said smoothly, though she was shaking. She was not sure if it was caused by what could have been a nasty accident or meeting him again so soon. ‘I should have pulled up sooner.’
He dismounted and retrieved her hat. ‘I did not expect to see a carriage in the park so early, especially one with so dexterous and decorative a whipster.’
‘Why not?’ She favoured him with a smile. ‘I like to rise early. It is the best time of the day, before the heat becomes unbearable, don’t you agree?’
‘Oh, indeed.’ He gave her back her hat and watched admiringly as she put it on and tied the ribbons. ‘May I call on you and your mama later? I would wish to assure myself you have had no ill effects from the fright I gave you.’
‘That will not be necessary,’ James put in quickly. ‘You can see her ladyship has come to no harm.’
Wincote grinned knowingly. ‘Oh, I understand. Rest assured your secret is safe with me, Corringham. I wish you good day, my lady.’ And with that he wheeled away.
‘What did he mean by that?’ Lavinia asked, as they continued on their way.
‘He imagines we crept out for a secret assignation.’
She laughed. ‘Then he was not so far wrong, was he?’
‘He was a very long way from being right,’ he said grimly. Far from their secret being safe, he had a notion it would be all over town by evening.
Lord Edmund Wincote was not in the least put off by James’s antagonism; he arrived at Stanmore House that afternoon, only to discover that the Duchess was ‘at home’ and the house was filled with callers, all taking tea and all talking at once.
Lavinia, clad in a pale green silk gown, its high waist delineated with a band of cream velvet, heard him being announced above the noise and hurried over to make him welcome. ‘Lord Wincote, how nice to see you. Do let me present you to the Duchess.’
She led him forward to where the Duchess was talking to a group of ladies, together with Sir Percival Ponsonby, who always dressed flamboyantly in glaring unmatched colours, but was, for all that, held in great affection and esteem by the Duchess. Today he was in a very old-fashioned puce coat and green breeches. His grey hair was worn long and tied in a tail with a narrow black ribbon.
‘The King is playing least in sight while his wife is seen everywhere,’ Lady Willoughby was saying. She was enormously fat, though apparently unaware of it. Frances had once painted a portrait of her, which she loved because it depicted her flatteringly rounded and without her many chins. The Duke, however, had said the Duchess had belittled herself and her art to do it. ‘I do believe she enjoys putting the King to the blush.’
‘I really do not know how she has the effrontery to come back to England,’ Lady Graham put in. ‘I heard the King had offered her thousands of pounds to stay away…’
Percy laughed, at home among the female company. ‘Well, if he did it has made no difference; she is here.’
‘I heard the King will not allow her to live in any of the Royal palaces and the Lord Mayor has offered her his home,’ Mrs Butterworth added her contribution to the gossip.
‘More fool he. It will do him no good.’
‘Mama,’ Lavinia said, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation. ‘May I present Lord Edmund Wincote?’
‘Why, of course.’ The Duchess turned to him at once, smiling a welcome. ‘How do you do, Lord Wincote?’
He took her hand and bowed over it with precise courtesy. ‘I am honoured, your Grace.’
‘Are you come to town for the festivities?’
‘That was my intent, my lady. I have a friend whose house overlooks the route of the procession and he was kind enough to invite me to join his guests. In the meantime, I have taken lodgings in Mount Street and plan to enjoy whatever London has to offer in the way of entertainment. I was riding in the park yesterday when I chanced upon my old friend the Earl of Corringham and Lady Lavinia. He was so good as to present me to her ladyship. I came to pay my respects. I hope I do not intrude.’
Lavinia was relieved when he did not also mention their second meeting when she had been driving the phaeton. She did not want a scolding over her hoydenish behaviour.
‘Not at all, my lord,’ the Duchess said. ‘You are welcome. May I present Lady Willoughby, Lady Graham and her daughter, Miss Constance Graham, Mrs Butterworth and Sir Percival Ponsonby.’ She indicated each in turn. ‘Lord Edmund Wincote.’ He bowed in acknowledgement, repeating their names politely as he did so.
‘Wincote?’ Lady Willoughby queried. ‘I am not sure I know that name. Where are you from?’ Lord Willoughby was the first of his line to be elevated to the peerage and, though very wealthy, had no country estate, so the family lived in London the whole year round. Lady Willoughby was convinced that gave her a special knowledge of who was who and how often they visited the capital.
‘Cumberland, my lady,’ he answered, not put off by her forthright manner. ‘After my father died, my brother John and I lived with our grandfather. He was in poor health the last few years of his life and rarely travelled. And since the demise of my elder bother, he liked to keep me by him to look after the estate. Sadly, he died earlier this year.’
‘That accounts for it,’ the lady said, apparently satisfied. ‘Is your wife with you?’
It was obvious to all that if his wife was in London she would have accompanied him on afternoon calls,