Beguiled. Susan Paul Spencer
she pointedly lifted her chin and looked away, he replied, “Yes.”
“If I’d known you’d be parading today I would have invited you to come along with us and make a foursome. I’m sure the ladies would have enjoyed having your company.”
Lily nodded and smiled. Isabel tapped the bottom of the carriage with her parasol and made a sound of disdain.
“As it happens…” Lord Daltry said, clearing his throat. “Ahem. As it happens, I’ve been reconsidering some of the remarks I made to Lady Isabel this morning, and it has occurred to me that…perhaps…an apology is in order.”
Isabel stopped tapping her parasol and looked him full in the face.
“Perhaps?” she asked.
“Ahem,” Lord Daltry said once more, looking so uncomfortable that Lily felt sorry for him. “No, not perhaps, exactly. I certainly owe you an apology, although you will admit that you provoked the situation and that we both made remarks any normal person would regret—”
Isabel cut him off. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but I do not, as it happens, regret one word that I said to you this morning. And I did not provoke the situation.”
“You most certainly did,” Lord Daltry returned more heatedly. “Riding your horse so recklessly that you might have broken your neck and lamed the animal. A more nitwitted display of horse handling I’ve yet to see.”
Isabel stamped her parasol so solidly on the barouche’s floor that Lily thought she’d poked a hole through it. “I had my mount completely under control, sir, and would have continued to do so if you hadn’t come charging out of nowhere and frightened the poor beast half to death!”
“That poor beast was already frightened,” Lord Daltry insisted. “If I hadn’t stopped you when I did—”
“Ah, Hanby,” Lord Graydon greeted loudly as another rider on horseback joined them. “Good day. Please, come and join our fracas.” His mild tone caused Lily to smile, as the situation was so ridiculous, and he turned back to her with a conspiratorial wink that nearly sent her into whoops of laughter.
“Good day, Graydon. Daltry. Fracas?” Lord Hanby repeated, lifting his tall hat from his nearly bald head just long enough to make his bow to the ladies. “I wished to greet Lady Isabel and Lady Lillian. Good day,” he said to Isabel, only briefly including Lily in his smile.
“Good day, my lord,” Isabel replied politely, ignoring Lord Daltry’s immense scowl as she leaned past him to smile at Lord Hanby. “My, what a fine mare. She looks wonderful to ride.”
Lord Hanby flushed with obvious pleasure, and sat up straighter in his saddle, although it did nothing to heighten the look of his short, slender person. Beside Lord Daltry, Lord Hanby looked almost elfin.
“She is indeed,” he agreed with unabashed pride. “She’s but one of the finest in my stable that I brought to Town for the season. One day you must allow me to take you riding, Lady Isabel. I should be very happy to provide you with a mount that I believe you’ll find quite exceptional.”
“I wouldn’t, Hanby, if I were you,” Lord Daltry muttered.
Isabel glared at him before replying to Lord Hanby sweetly, “Lily and I would like that exceedingly, my lord. Thank you.”
Lord Hanby glanced at Lily, their eyes meeting for the briefest of seconds before he turned back to Isabel. “Will you be at Lady Pebworth’s ball tonight, Lady Isabel? I would very much like to reserve a dance with you, if I might.”
“Hah,” Lord Daltry remarked as if he’d never heard anything more foolish.
Isabel gifted Lord Hanby with her most dazzling smile—the one that had slain more men in Somerset than Lily could keep count of. Lord Hanby fell beneath its effect at once, leaning toward Isabel on his saddle until he met with Lord Daltry’s hard elbow.
“You honor me, my lord. Lily and I would both be very glad to reserve a dance with you, if you would only tell us which dances you prefer.”
Oh, Isabel, Lily thought with a groan. She couldn’t tell who was more red-faced, she or Lord Hanby, who was suddenly at a loss for words. Beside her, Lily saw Lord Graydon’s hand tighten upon his walking stick, and she wondered, with a sinking heart, if he was embarrassed to be seen in her presence. She was used to being treated as though she were invisible, but to others, especially to a person with a kind heart such as Lord Graydon possessed, the experience might seem terribly unpleasant.
“Why, I…” Lord Hanby began, clearly flustered.
“I’ve already reserved a waltz with Lady Lillian,” Lord Graydon said suddenly, tightly, “as well as the supper dance.”
“And I’ve reserved a waltz and a quadrille,” Lord Daltry put in. “You’ll have to make do with what’s left over.”
“Oh, well,” Lord Hanby said, looking at Lily uncomfortably. “Perhaps, then, if you’ll save me the first country dance, my lady?” He turned away before Lily could do so much as nod at him. “Lady Isabel, I was hoping that you might not yet have reserved the supper dance?”
“She has,” Lord Daltry answered, not giving Isabel a chance to speak. “With me. You can have a quadrille. Now please be a good chap, Hanby, and shove off.”
“Well, really,” Lord Hanby said, affronted by this glaring lack of good manners.
Lord Graydon covered his mouth with his hand and coughed. He glanced at Lily and she had to look away to contain her own amusement.
“I have not reserved the supper dance!” Isabel insisted furiously.
“Yes, you have,” Lord Daltry countered firmly. “Hanby, do I have to tell you twice, or would you rather serve as my next sparring partner at Jackson’s?”
Lord Hanby’s eyes widened, taking in Lord Daltry’s massive person, and then he said meekly, “A quadrille will be quite acceptable, Lady Isabel. Good day.” He nodded nervously at Lily and Lord Graydon. “Good day, my lady. Graydon. Daltry.”
“Why you ill-mannered, conceited swine!” Isabel said after Lord Hanby had ridden away. “How dare you lie about such a thing.”
Lord Daltry looked down at her from his greater height and said, “I rather like Hanby, at least enough to protect him from an underbred country chit who’d probably run some of his finest horses into the ground before she was done turning the man into a simpering fool by merely batting her eyelashes at him.”
Isabel lifted her parasol with the obvious intent of smashing it upon Lord Daltry’s head. Lily sat forward with a gasp to stop her, but Lord Graydon’s hand pressed reassuringly on her arm.
“Ah, Lady Hamilton and Miss Hamilton,” he said as another carriage pulled up beside them in the long line of slow-moving vehicles. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Lord Graydon!” the handsome, middle-aged woman in the other carriage greeted. “Indeed, it is. Frances and I were just hoping that we might see you here.” The lovely young lady sitting beside her smiled first at Lord Graydon, and then at Lily. “Won’t you introduce us to your companions?”
“With pleasure,” said Lord Graydon, and Isabel lowered her parasol.
Within fifteen short minutes, Lily found herself strolling arm in arm with Miss Frances Hamilton through the colorful paradise of Kensington Gardens, with Lord Graydon escorting Lady Hamilton beside them. Somewhere not far behind, Lily could hear Isabel and Lord Daltry arguing hotly, but, thankfully, not overloudly.
Frances Hamilton was close to Lily’s age, and very much like the friends that she and Isabel had left behind in Somerset. With curling, golden hair and warm brown eyes, she was a pretty, easygoing girl, open and kind and utterly unfazed by Lily’s inability to speak. She accepted the notes Lily wrote without a pause in conversation, just as if Lily had spoken,