bought in Kingsbridge!” Gillian exclaimed. “Perhaps I was a trifle overhasty in consigning that hat to Hector’s use, although it did sail on the wind just beautifully.”
“Who is Hector?” the earl asked in surprise.
“He is Gillie’s spaniel,” Gilbey explained. “He got too old for hunting, but she liked to indulge his fantasies by throwing her hats out into the wind on the cliffs for him to chase. It’s no wonder she hasn’t a bonnet of her own.”
“It takes a soft heart to be concerned about the fantasies of aging dogs,” Brinton replied quietly.
Gillian turned to go on. “I believe in Scotland a lady may go out uncovered without causing a major scandal, Gilbey.”
“Gillie thinks that in Scotland she’ll be free to do anything at all that she wants,” Gilbey explained. “She plans to dance barefoot in the streets.”
“I’d like to know where she has gotten these ideas about Scotland,” Brinton muttered.
The little group toiled up the hill, stopping for the earl to catch his breath and Gilbey to rest his knee partway up Bartlett Street, and soon they found themselves outside the Upper Assembly Rooms.
“From here we will go across to the Circus and the Crescent, which I know you will admire,” the earl said. “By the time we make our way back down through Queen Square, it will be far less crowded at the baths.”
“The Assembly Rooms are elegant,” he continued, “but the best way to see them is at night, when the chandeliers are lit and the dance floor is crowded with Bath’s best efforts at high fashion.”
Gillian was looking at a broadside posted in the window. “There is a special assembly tonight,” she remarked wistfully. “Do you suppose there is any way we could attend?”
***
Sometime later, Brinton stood at the window of Mrs. Alford’s upstairs study with his back to the room. The slanting rays of the late afternoon sun flowed across the Aubusson carpet and up the side of the lady’s elegant French desk, interrupted only by the earl’s long shadow.
“It is absolutely out of the question,” he stated in his most authoritative tone. The steel in his voice matched the rigid set of his shoulders as he watched the twins exploring in the garden below.
“What nonsense, Rafferty,” Alice Alford chided, not even slightly intimidated by his imposing manner. Dressed in a becoming gown of apricot muslin, she was relaxing on an Adam-style sofa upholstered in pale blue damask that matched the paneled walls. Her dark locks were swept up into a chignon, with small curls framing her finely sculpted face. “Why should they not go? You have already paraded them about the city all day.”
Brinton still faced the window. “It served to keep them occupied,” he pointed out. “We avoided the fashionable times to appear at the most popular places, and no one recognized us.”
“Or at least no one indicated so.”
“Walking through town is quite a different proposition from openly displaying Cranford and his sister at the Assembly Rooms, where everyone is bound to take notice.”
Mrs. Alford narrowed her eyes. “It is not like you to spurn a challenge, Rafferty. Last night you told me yourself that no one would suspect a pair of runaways to be touring around Bath, and certainly the same holds true in this! No one will suspect they are anything but what we say—cousins of yours from Devon. And as they are only on a short visit, it will cause no comment when they disappear again!”
Brinton turned from the window. “They are coming in,” he warned. His expression was grim.
“I see you are bent on playing the stuffy earl this time,” Mrs. Alford said. “You are denying Miss Kentwell the chance to be part of a little elegance and excitement—a chance that I suspect comes rarely to her.”
“I rather thought I was protecting her,” Rafferty responded, half to himself. He began to pace up and down the length of the carpet. “You don’t know her. She has no
“Who is Hector?” the earl asked in surprise.
“He is Gillie’s spaniel,” Gilbey explained. “He got too old for hunting, but she liked to indulge his fantasies by throwing her hats out into the wind on the cliffs for him to chase. It’s no wonder she hasn’t a bonnet of her own.”
“It takes a soft heart to be concerned about the fantasies of aging dogs,” Brinton replied quietly.
Gillian turned to go on. “I believe in Scotland a lady may go out uncovered without causing a major scandal, Gilbey.”
“Gillie thinks that in Scotland she’ll be free to do anything at all that she wants,” Gilbey explained. “She plans to dance barefoot in the streets.”
“I’d like to know where she has gotten these ideas about Scotland,” Brinton muttered.
The little group toiled up the hill, stopping for the earl to catch his breath and Gilbey to rest his knee partway up Bartlett Street, and soon they found themselves outside the Upper Assembly Rooms.
“From here we will go across to the Circus and the Crescent, which I know you will admire,” the earl said. “By the time we make our way back down through Queen Square, it will be far less crowded at the baths.”
“The Assembly Rooms are elegant,” he continued, “but the best way to see them is at night, when the chandeliers are lit and the dance floor is crowded with Bath’s best efforts at high fashion.”
Gillian was looking at a broadside posted in the window. “There is a special assembly tonight,” she remarked wistfully. “Do you suppose there is any way we could attend?”
***
Sometime later, Brinton stood at the window of Mrs. Alford’s upstairs study with his back to the room. The slanting rays of the late afternoon sun flowed across the Aubusson carpet and up the side of the lady’s elegant French desk, interrupted only by the earl’s long shadow.
“It is absolutely out of the question,” he stated in his most authoritative tone. The steel in his voice matched the rigid set of his shoulders as he watched the twins exploring in the garden below.
“What nonsense, Rafferty,” Alice Alford chided, not even slightly intimidated by his imposing manner. Dressed in a becoming gown of apricot muslin, she was relaxing on an Adam-style sofa upholstered in pale blue damask that matched the paneled walls. Her dark locks were swept up into a chignon, with small curls framing her finely sculpted face. “Why should they not go? You have already paraded them about the city all day.”
Brinton still faced the window. “It served to keep them occupied,” he pointed out. “We avoided the fashionable times to appear at the most popular places, and no one recognized us.”
“Or at least no one indicated so.”
“Walking through town is quite a different proposition from openly displaying Cranford and his sister at the Assembly Rooms, where everyone is bound to take notice.”
Mrs. Alford narrowed her eyes. “It is not like you to spurn a challenge, Rafferty. Last night you told me yourself that no one would suspect a pair of runaways to be touring around Bath, and certainly the same holds true in this! No one will suspect they are anything but what we say—cousins of yours from Devon. And as they are only on a short visit, it will cause no comment when they disappear again!”
Brinton turned from the window. “They are coming in,” he warned. His expression was grim.
“I see you are bent on playing the stuffy earl this time,” Mrs. Alford said. “You are denying Miss Kentwell the chance to be part of a little elegance and excitement—a chance that I suspect comes rarely to her.”
“I rather thought I was protecting her,” Rafferty responded, half to himself. He began to pace up and down the length of the carpet. “You don’t know her. She has no
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