not. Sir Julian is kind and charming and obviously a very good person, but perhaps he’s just a little too good for me.’
‘Stuff,’ her mother exclaimed unexpectedly. ‘How can you talk so, Christabel! You deserve the very best.’
Her daughter remained silent, gazing gravely at her reflection in the mirror.
‘Are you still thinking of that business with the Veryans?’
Even her mother, she noted, did not dare to speak Richard’s name. Lady Harriet came close and put her arms around her daughter.
‘Bel, my darling, that’s over and has been for years. It’s nonsense to let it determine the rest of your life. It was a bad affair at the time, but you must put it out of your mind and make a fresh start.’
Whether it was her mother’s hug or simply because she’d had a jarring day, she couldn’t say, but Christabel found herself dissolving into tears.
Lady Harriet soothed her lovingly and then spoke to her as if to a weary child. ‘The time has come, Christabel, to make a sensible decision which will affect the rest of your life. You have received many offers of marriage and have refused them all. In a few months you will be twenty-five and in our society that is not a good age to be single still. If you really dislike the idea of marriage to Sir Julian, you know we will not try to persuade you otherwise. Your father and I have profited from painful experience. But if you feel you could live comfortably with him, then I would urge you not to wait too long. He is obviously deeply in love with you and you have only to “throw the handkerchief”—a vulgar saying, I know, but a perfectly true one none the less—and he will pick it up with alacrity.’
‘I know, Mama.’ Her daughter’s woebegone expression raised a smile on Lady Harriet’s face.
‘Do not look so miserable about it. You will have a splendid life. You will never want for anything and will have a man by your side whose only wish is to make you happy.’
How to tell her mother how she felt? How to explain it even to herself? Her head told her that a tranquil life with Sir Julian was the best possible compromise she could make, but her heart murmured traitorously that tranquillity would not satisfy. What did she want, then? Gaiety, exhilaration, adventure even? But she knew her mother was right. She was a mature woman and she must behave like one. That meant making a sensible decision about her future.
Thinking that her homily had gone home, Lady Harriet continued. ‘Promise me, my love, that when the moment comes you will listen to whatever Sir Julian has to say and consider his words favourably.’
‘I promise, Mama.’
She made the undertaking in good faith. She must try not to disappoint Sir Julian, nor let her family down again.
Her pledge was put to the test the following Saturday morning. She was quietly engaged with Rosa, selecting dresses from her wardrobe that needed attention and listing the new gloves and slippers she must purchase now that the Season was well advanced, when the second footman appeared at her bedroom door.
‘Milady would like to see you in the drawing room, Miss Christabel.’
She wondered what was toward and made haste downstairs. Her heart sunk when she saw Sir Julian perched rather unsafely on one of the decorative but spindly chairs her mother had recently hired for the drawing room.
‘Miss Tallis, how good to see you. And how well you look in that ensemble.’
She looked blankly at the old dress she was wearing and wondered if her potential spouse needed glasses.
‘But then,’ he continued, ‘you always contrive to look amazingly elegant.’
Her mother beamed appreciatively. ‘Sir Julian has been speaking of the new floral exhibition in Hyde Park. It sounds truly magnificent and has been especially designed as part of the celebrations arranged for the French Royal Family.’
‘In fact,’ Sir Julian interjected eagerly, ‘they are actually to celebrate the Prince Regent’s own assumption of power, but since his father is so very ill, it would be bad form for him to broadcast it, I dare say.’
Christabel looked from one to the other in some puzzlement, wondering where she fitted into this conversation. Her mother was at hand to help.
‘Sir Julian has very kindly called to discover if you would care to see the display. I know you have no engagements this morning, my dear.’
Sir Julian added his voice to the petition, ‘I hope I do not importune, Miss Tallis, but I would welcome your company. And I am sure you will be charmed, knowing your highly developed sense of beauty. The southern tip of the park is a sheer blaze of colour.’
Christabel had no alternative but to agree, only stopping to change her gown and unpack the new bonnet which had just been delivered by Celeste, her favourite milliner. It was a charming confection, a light-green cottager style tied beneath the chin with an enormous chiffon bow. It set off to perfection a gown of pale primrose silk. If she was to be wooed, and she had no doubt that this was Sir Julian’s plan, she would at least look the part.
Hyde Park was unusually busy for a Saturday morning and for some time they had little leisure to converse, their attention distracted by the need to avoid a constant parade of slowly moving barouches and their elderly occupants, baby carriages with their nursemaids and schoolboys bowling their hoops. It seemed the whole world and his wife had come out to play this early April morning. And it wasn’t hard to see why. The sun streamed down from an almost cloudless blue sky and spring was in the air.
Richard was also in the park that morning, carefully shepherding Domino through its north gate towards Rotten Row, which was already busy with riders. It would be a good opportunity, he thought, for the young girl to experience one of the more popular pursuits of London life. Annoyingly he had been forced to kick his heels in the capital for some days while legal papers were being prepared for his signature. But he could at least enjoy this heavensent morning.
He glanced sideways at his companion, an amused expression on his face. She was in high gig now that he’d unexpectedly remained in town and her aunt had agreed to his chaperonage. Lady Blythe’s horror at the notion of a male escort the younger side of thirty had evaporated the moment Richard presented himself in Curzon Street. His manners were excellent and he showed an avuncular affection for Domino that not even her worst nightmare could translate into any threat to her charge. She was only too pleased to accept his protection for her young niece whose company she was already finding exhausting.
They had hired hacks from the stables around the corner from Aunt Loretta’s house, but had almost instantly regretted it. Neither had any hesitation in characterising their respective mounts as out-and-out slugs. Domino had already begun to feel irked by the restraints her aunt had found it necessary to place on her; after weeks of confinement on board ship, she was restless for the kind of unfettered gallop she had been accustomed to in Argentina. Her horse was unlikely to provide that. Yet the morning shone with perfection and the greensward stretched invitingly in front of her. She could not resist the attempt, and before Richard could stop her she had dug her spurs hard into the horse’s flanks. Startled out of his wits, Firefly was for once in his life true to his name. He shot off across the park at breakneck speed to the shocked outrage of those sedately taking their morning promenade. Forced to ride sidesaddle, Domino crouched low over the horse’s neck in order to keep her seat, with her hair streaming inelegantly behind. After a frozen instant of shock Richard urged his mount into an unwilling gallop and rushed
