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 after her, fearful for her safety and intent on stopping her from creating the kind of scandal of which she had no notion.
Firefly hit the dust of Rotten Row, choking nearby strollers and scattering them to the winds as they leapt for safety, just as Sir Julian had worked himself up to the point of a declaration.
‘I shall be leaving for Rosings in the morning, Miss Tallis, and had hoped to depart with one very important question answered. It is a question dear to my heart and only you can settle it. I do not, of course, require an immediate answer, but I would be truly grateful if you would agree to think over what I have to say. You see, Miss Tallis, Christabel—’
He was forced to break off mid sentence and take drastic action as Firefly thundered towards him and his lovely companion. In a trice he had swept Christabel up and literally jumped her out of harm’s way. A second later another horse galloping headlong in pursuit caught up with the runaway and grabbed hold of Firefly’s bridle.
‘Never, ever do that again!’
Richard’s voice expressed his cold fury. Badly jolted by the headlong flight of her horse and realising that she had committed a serious social sin, Domino slipped from the saddle, her face white and frightened. She had never seen Richard so angry and she wasn’t certain whether she should shout or cry. He gave her no chance to decide. Turning to the couple who had narrowly escaped Firefly’s thundering hooves, he bowed in apology. Sir Julian inclined his head at the irate stranger before him. He had no idea of his identity for he had been travelling on the Continent when Richard Veryan had first come to the capital.
‘Please forgive my companion,’ Richard offered stiffly. ‘She is a visitor to London and unaware of the rules governing riding in Hyde Park. I trust that you have received no harm.’
‘I’m glad to say that we haven’t,’ stuttered Sir Julian, now very shaken by the incident, ‘but your charge—for I take it that she is your charge—needs to be given a summary lesson.’
‘She shall have it,’ he said crisply, glaring at Sir Julian with annoyance. Domino had put him in the wrong and he did not like it.
He turned to apologise to the woman he had only glimpsed from the corner of his eye and for the first time in the encounter was struck dumb. For what seemed endless time, he stood motionless and without expression, absorbing the picture before him, hardly believing what he saw.
He had not visualised the moment when he would meet Christabel again. He’d made quite sure that his imagination never strayed into such dangerous territory. But if he’d been tempted to speculate, it would not have felt like this. He would have felt nothing—the meaningless liaisons of years would have done their work—and any carefully suppressed images that still remained in the recesses of his memory would have, should have, shrivelled in the cold light of reality. He ought to feel nothing. But that, it seemed, was not so. He stood and looked and his heart received a most painful jolt.
She was even more beautiful than he remembered. The glinting green eyes and the sensual tumble of red locks against translucent skin were arousing all his senses. He looked searchingly at her ungloved hand. Astonishingly she was not married, at least not yet. That popinjay with her was no doubt the intended.
Christabel had known him immediately. He was
