accept his lordship’s invitation and Aunt Maria was equally anxious to convince herself that Tina’s interest in that gentleman had waned. She had not so much as mentioned his name since Alethea’s party. Doubtless his facial scars had been too much for her. Besides, the projected outing would not be at all to her taste. Had she not regularly evaded Kit Grayson’s eager pleas that she should accompany his sister and himself on one of their periodic visits to Lady Emily? Mrs. Newton refused to believe that the substitution of Lord Skirlaugh for Kit might change her daughter’s attitude. So Alethea was directed to write a pretty note to his lordship, informing him of her aunt’s approval, so that his arrangements could be set forward.
Alethea had been carefully taught to set small value on outward show, but she could not quite suppress her regret that Mama and Susan could not see her stepping into the Duchess of Byram’s landau. Lord Skirlaugh might deprecate its shabbiness, explaining that his mama so rarely came to Town that it had not seemed worth while to have it re-furbished, but the only sign of shabbiness that Alethea could see was a slight fading of the lining from vivid gold to a soft and pleasing amber. She stole a respectful glance at the crest which adorned the door that his lordship himself opened for her, and decided that Papa would certainly rebuke her for so easily succumbing to the glamour of worldly trappings. But she had never ridden in so elegant a vehicle before, and she did not propose to allow moral reflections to spoil her pleasure.
That pleasure was increased when, as soon as the paved streets were left behind, his lordship enquired if the ladies would like the top lowered so that they might see better. Since it was a sunny morning with a promise of greater heat to come, they agreed with enthusiasm. And even Papa, thought Alethea, must have approved of the way in which his lordship sprang down and went to lend a hand with the job. Nothing consequential about that —and the poor man could not help his birth. She was quite sorry to think how sadly she had misjudged him at their first meeting, but there—if a man was so foolishly sensitive about his appearance, he must expect to be misunderstood from time to time.
His lordship, settling back into his seat surveyed his two guests with approval and a happy sense of holiday, thankful that the long drawn out conferences with his father’s agent and lawyer were done at last. Marianne had always been his favourite cousin. She had a gentleness that seemed to him truly feminine, and a quiet sense of humour that peeped out when she was not overshadowed by more strident companions. As for little Miss Forester, she looked surprisingly pretty this morning. Excitement and fresh air had brought colour to her cheeks, and though she had little to say it was obvious that she was hugely enjoying herself. Even as he watched, she sketched the faintest possible acknowledgement to a hawthorn tree that, in its array of blossom, might pass for a lady in court dress. There was a gracious gesture of one slim hand for a young horse that came trotting up to the hedge to watch their passing. Play-acting, mused Damon, biting back a smile. And why not? She was little more than a child. Probably saw herself as a princess, or as Cinderella, riding to a ball. He relaxed in peaceful enjoyment of a perfect May morning, grateful that his guests did not seem to desire an uninterrupted flow of animated conversation, but rousing himself occasionally to point out such features as might be of interest to Miss Forester, since to Marianne they were already perfectly familiar.
They had left Town betimes, since they were to partake of an early luncheon with their hostess before setting out on their exploration of the ancient palace. It was not until they had passed Bushey Park, failing, to Alethea’s disappointment, to catch a glimpse of the famous tame deer, but much impressed by the
Alethea had been carefully taught to set small value on outward show, but she could not quite suppress her regret that Mama and Susan could not see her stepping into the Duchess of Byram’s landau. Lord Skirlaugh might deprecate its shabbiness, explaining that his mama so rarely came to Town that it had not seemed worth while to have it re-furbished, but the only sign of shabbiness that Alethea could see was a slight fading of the lining from vivid gold to a soft and pleasing amber. She stole a respectful glance at the crest which adorned the door that his lordship himself opened for her, and decided that Papa would certainly rebuke her for so easily succumbing to the glamour of worldly trappings. But she had never ridden in so elegant a vehicle before, and she did not propose to allow moral reflections to spoil her pleasure.
That pleasure was increased when, as soon as the paved streets were left behind, his lordship enquired if the ladies would like the top lowered so that they might see better. Since it was a sunny morning with a promise of greater heat to come, they agreed with enthusiasm. And even Papa, thought Alethea, must have approved of the way in which his lordship sprang down and went to lend a hand with the job. Nothing consequential about that —and the poor man could not help his birth. She was quite sorry to think how sadly she had misjudged him at their first meeting, but there—if a man was so foolishly sensitive about his appearance, he must expect to be misunderstood from time to time.
His lordship, settling back into his seat surveyed his two guests with approval and a happy sense of holiday, thankful that the long drawn out conferences with his father’s agent and lawyer were done at last. Marianne had always been his favourite cousin. She had a gentleness that seemed to him truly feminine, and a quiet sense of humour that peeped out when she was not overshadowed by more strident companions. As for little Miss Forester, she looked surprisingly pretty this morning. Excitement and fresh air had brought colour to her cheeks, and though she had little to say it was obvious that she was hugely enjoying herself. Even as he watched, she sketched the faintest possible acknowledgement to a hawthorn tree that, in its array of blossom, might pass for a lady in court dress. There was a gracious gesture of one slim hand for a young horse that came trotting up to the hedge to watch their passing. Play-acting, mused Damon, biting back a smile. And why not? She was little more than a child. Probably saw herself as a princess, or as Cinderella, riding to a ball. He relaxed in peaceful enjoyment of a perfect May morning, grateful that his guests did not seem to desire an uninterrupted flow of animated conversation, but rousing himself occasionally to point out such features as might be of interest to Miss Forester, since to Marianne they were already perfectly familiar.
They had left Town betimes, since they were to partake of an early luncheon with their hostess before setting out on their exploration of the ancient palace. It was not until they had passed Bushey Park, failing, to Alethea’s disappointment, to catch a glimpse of the famous tame deer, but much impressed by the
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