A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)

“N-no …” Bel fought to recover her breath. The carriage had come to a halt, but her world remained in motion. She was dizzy—not only from that terrifying drive, but now from the sensation of his strong body wrapped so protectively around hers. “I’m not ill, it’s only … I’m unaccustomed to driving like this, that’s all. We don’t have such fast carriages and fine teams on Tortola. It’s a small island.” She sat up a bit, placing her hand between them on the seat as a buffer.

“What a dolt I am. I should have realized. And look, you’ve gone all pale.” He removed his hat and began fanning her with it. “Shall I take you back home?”

“No. No, please don’t. Truly, I am perfectly well now.” Bel readjusted her bonnet.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, I’m very certain.” The concern in Toby’s amber-flecked eyes pleased her. Sophia had been right. He would make a kind, solicitous husband. “I don’t mean to complain. It’s a lovely phaeton.” She ran a hand over the tufted, butter-soft leather.

At his soft command, the horses resumed a sedate walk. “We needn’t continue driving at all,”

he said. “Why don’t we leave the phaeton with a groom and have a stroll about the shops?”

“The shops? I suppose we could, but I don’t have need of anything. Do you?”

He laughed. “Why, that’s the very time to visit the shops—when you don’t need anything. To be truthful, however, I have been thinking of buying a new walking stick. I’ve had my eye on a fine ivory-topped one at Brauchts’.”

“A walking stick? Do you have some injury, then?” Bel surreptitiously eyed his legs. They looked fit enough to her, his well-formed thighs and calves sheathed in tailored wool. She flushed and quickly averted her eyes. Yes, his legs looked well indeed. “Or perhaps you suffer from the gout?”

“The gout?” He laughed again, louder this time. “No, I have not lived such an immoderate life as to develop the gout at the age of nine-and-twenty. Nor have I suffered any injury, save that small one to my pride just now.”

“Oh. Then why do you need a walking stick, if you are not infirm?”

“Why, no particular reason. They come in handy from time to time—for gesturing toward sights of interest, rapping on doors, signaling the coachman …” He shrugged. “And they look fine. It’s the fashion.”

“I see,” she said, frowning. “So this is the way you wish to spend our morning? Shopping for this … this embellished stick, which a perfectly healthy gentleman carries around, for no real purpose other than to indicate his wealth?”

His expression sobered. “Well, that and gesturing,” he said slowly. “Don’t forget gesturing. And rapping on doors. There’s that, too.”

Bel had no response. Actually, she would have liked to respond that arms and hands generally worked well for her in those regards, but she had no wish to upset him further.

“Right, well.” He gave her a tight smile. “We’ll do the shops another day, then. Are you fond of art? Shall I take you to an exhibition?”

Bel perked up. Her appreciation for art had increased under Sophia’s influence, as her sister-inlaw was an accomplished painter. “Thank you, I would like that very much.”

“Excellent.” He leaned closer and whispered, “I’ll arrange a real treat for you. I’ve a friend who can get us a private showing of the Parthenon marbles.”

“The sculptures Lord Elgin brought back from Greece?”

“Yes, the very ones.”

“The ones Parliament just purchased on behalf of the English government?”

“Why … yes.” He looked askance at her, obviously confused by the brittle tone of her remark. But Bel could not help herself. Useless walking sticks were one thing, but there was no holding her tongue on this matter. “Sir Toby, do you not realize Lord Elgin stole those statues from their rightful owners, the Greeks? And now Parliament has squandered millions of pounds to purchase them, while hardworking English farmers have not the corn to seed their fields, and orphaned children starve in the streets? It is a travesty!”

He pulled the team to a halt. “So …” His lips pursed around the drawn out syllable. “You don’t wish to see them?”

She couldn’t believe he would even ask! “No.”

An awkward minute passed. Embarrassed by her outburst but unable to apologize for it, Bel faced forward and made a show of straightening her gloves. She could feel Toby’s eyes on her all the while. Eventually, the phaeton lurched into motion again.

Oh, he must think her inexcusably rude. Here he had suggested two different amusements, and she had refused them both. And with intemperate scoldings, no less. Bel made up her mind then and there to greet his next suggestion with polite enthusiasm, what ever it might be.

“There’s Berkeley Square just up ahead. Can I offer you some refreshment?”