had our circumstances been different.’
‘What circumstances?’
‘Those imposed by an impulsive feline who dashed out and startled my horse, thereby forcing you to offer assistance.’
‘I was not forced to offer it,’ Edward said, stung that she would think him so cavalier. ‘I was happy to do so.’
‘And it was very good of you, and I do hope I have expressed my thanks in a way that leaves you in no doubt as to my sincerity. But given the circumstances, I think it would be best if we were to leave it at that. Good morning.’
And with that, she pressed her heels into the mare’s side and rode on.
Edward watched her go, aware of having been slighted, albeit politely, by a lady who obviously wished to have nothing to do with him—equally aware that he couldn’t remember the last time a lady had done that to him…especially one who claimed to be single. She hadn’t offered her name, nor had she enquired after his. In fact, nothing in the way she had behaved had led him to believe that she knew him, or wished to. And as a man used to being the object of intense feminine scrutiny, Edward found it a new and intriguing experience.
True, his impulsive invitation to have her ride with him had come as a surprise, even to him, but in hindsight, Edward realised it had more to do with finding out who she was than anything else. Anonymity always intrigued him, and, as a man who liked to have answers, her continued resistance had sparked more than a passing interest.
Not to mention that she had the most seductive voice he’d heard in a very long time.
The lady’s groom tipped his hat to Edward as he rode by, and, not thinking, Edward acknowledged the salute. Regrettably, it wasn’t until the servant was too far past that he realised he should have asked the fellow his mistress’s name. It might not be the accepted method of gaining an introduction, but when it was the only one available, why should he not make use of it?
Still, if the lady had ridden this morning, chances were good she would ride again. If not today or tomorrow, certainly before the end of the week. And since he rode every day, and more than once if he could, it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again.
And in matters like this, patience was something Edward had in abundance.
Diana returned to George Street and changed into a round gown of sprigged muslin. After smoothing a few errant curls back into place, she draped a warm shawl over her shoulders and headed downstairs for breakfast.
She was still feeling chilled from the onset of a cold, and though the wretched soreness in her throat had eased somewhat, her voice was still much deeper than usual. But she was glad she had gone ahead with her ride. She had woken to her first morning in London feeling heavy in body and anxious in mind, and because she had put both down to the uncertainty of what lay ahead, she had decided to venture out on horseback. She rode every morning at home, and getting out into the fresh air always seemed to help improve her spirits.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t until she had entered Hyde Park that Diana realised the lethargy she had been feeling was more physical than mental, and that while an invigorating ride might help improve her mood, it probably wouldn’t do much for her health. Her throat had felt as though it was on fire, so that every time she swallowed, she’d winced in pain. Nor had it made for easy conversation. Diana had hardly recognised the deep, husky voice as her own. She couldn’t help but wonder what Lord Garthdale had thought of it.
Oh, yes, she knew who he was. Thanks to her aunt’s groom, she knew not only who he was, but where he lived and who his family were. The strange part was, Diana couldn’t recall having met the Earl of Garthdale before, nor could she remember her aunt having spoken about him. That in itself was curious, since her aunt had taken great pains to point out every eligible gentleman the last time Diana had been in London, particularly those who were handsome, titled or in possession of a large fortune.
Lord Garthdale was all three. Part of the reason Diana had been paying so little attention to her mare was as a result of admiring the dashing looks of the gentleman riding towards her. Even his voice had been pleasing; neither the affected drawl of the dandy, nor the clipped tones of the aristocrat. It had been a rich, resonant sound that had fallen most pleasantly on her ear.
Yes, all in all, it had been an interesting encounter, Diana reflected as she made her way to the breakfast parlour. If only he hadn’t asked for her name, and whether or not she was married—
‘Ah, good morning, my dear,’ Mrs Mitchell said, looking up as Diana entered. ‘I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. Did you enjoy your ride?’
‘Very much, Aunt,’ Diana said, happy to be diverted from her thoughts. ‘Juliet suits me very well.’
‘I thought she might. I feared her being a bit rambunctious to start, as she’s not had much exercise of late, but I knew that wouldn’t be a problem for you. You have your mother’s skill when it comes to riding. But, my poor girl, whatever has happened to your voice?’
Diana grimaced. ‘I wish I knew. I woke up feeling rather muzzy this morning.’
‘Yet you still went riding?’
‘I thought it might help.’
‘Obviously it did not.’
Diana picked up a plate. ‘It did clear my head a little, but I fear it has done nothing for my throat.’
‘Probably this vile London air,’ Mrs Mitchell said as Diana perused the array of dishes set out on the sideboard. ‘I always notice it when I return from the country. But I do hope it clears up soon. You have such a lovely clear voice, and it is all but unrecognisable now.’
‘I’m sure I shall be fine in a day or two.’ Not feeling particularly hungry and wanting something easy on her throat, Diana helped herself to a small portion of eggs. ‘So, what have you planned for Phoebe’s first day in London?’
‘Oh, there are several things we have to do. The child will certainly need clothes, and I suspect you will, too. I doubt you’ve had anything new made up during the last four years.’
Diana lifted her shoulders. ‘I had no need of new gowns. Those I had were sufficient for my purposes.’
‘Sufficient for the country, perhaps, but not for going about in London now,’ Mrs Mitchell said. ‘Fashions change by the month, Diana, never mind by the year, and I won’t have you looking like a country mouse when you set foot in society again. You are far too lovely for that. So, we shall call on Madame Claremont and make her a happy woman, then we shall go to the stationers for cards. After that, we shall visit the jewellers. I am having my old pearl necklace reset for Phoebe. She’s always admired it, and pearls are eminently suitable for a young girl entering society.’
‘Speaking of society, I met an interesting gentleman in the park this morning,’ Diana said, having decided, after much thought, to share news of the encounter with her aunt.
‘Really? Did he tell you his name?’
‘No, but your groom did.’
Mrs Mitchell laughed. ‘Of course. Tupper knows everyone, and everything about them. Well, who was he?’
‘Lord Garthdale.’
‘Lord
