Miss Bethan Windham was a lovely little creature with whom Casriel had not danced. He would have recalled that red hair, and those green eyes, and the smile that blossomed when he passed her the flowers. The ladies flirted and teased and generally made a man forget which direction the park lay in, and then traffic shifted, and Will cleared his throat.
“Ladies, good day,” Casriel said, for he was as well trained to Will’s cues as any hound. “My regards to your family.”
“You can be charming,” Will said when the carriage had pulled away. “Don’t pretend you can’t. Those flowers will end up pressed between the pages of the lady’s journal, and the scent of lily of the valley will always make her think of you.”
“Is that how it works?” Will seemed very convinced of his theory, and yet to the best of Casriel’s knowledge, Will had never fancied a specific lady. “How is it, Willow, you know the names of all the women, right down to the flower girl? You earn the undying loyalty of horses and dogs, both, and impress our brothers daily, but the females never seem to notice you?”
Willow had the knack of becoming invisible, in other words. Of disappearing without going anywhere, just another tree in the hedgerow on a still spring day. He’d had this ability since boyhood, had slipped through university on the strength of it, and still used his invisibility to good advantage in ballrooms and gentlemen’s clubs.
“My objective is to ensure the ladies notice you,” Will said. “One of them might even notice Ash, who is a good-looking, friendly devil, and knows his way around figures. Once I get you two married off, I can enlist your wives to assist me in finding ladies for our other brothers.”
Papa had despaired of Willow, though the late earl and his second son had had much in common.
“As usual, Will, you have an excellent plan, though I detect a serious flaw in your scheme.”
They crossed Park Avenue at a brisk trot, and not until they were well within Hyde Park did Will take the bait.
“What is the flaw in my plan?” he asked. “You and Ash are both handsome and sons of an earl. I see to it that you’re well dressed when it matters. You’re passable dancers and considerate of women. With all the bankers’ daughters looking to marry into the nobility, all of the viscounts and baron’s daughters or even widows—what?”
Willow had doubtless made lists of these women, another worry added to Casriel’s endless supply.
“I know you mean well, Will, but Ash and I can find our own ladies. The flaw in your plan is that you’ve made no provision for finding a lady of your own. Give me those violets. This park has become overrun with women, and an earl-without-countess must defend himself with whatever weapons he can find.”
“The park is always overrun with women at the fashionable hour,” Will said, “but as it happens, I have my own use for these flowers.”
Will cantered off in the direction of a gig driven by a blond woman with a petite brunette at her side. The Haddonfield ladies?
Casriel trotted after him, for this moment would go down in Dorning history as the first encounter with a proper woman to which Willow Grove Dorning would arrive bearing flowers.
Two
“Delilah Haddonfield, if you don’t stop twirling my parasol,” Susannah said, “I will smack you with it. You’ll scare some gallant’s horse, and he’ll be ridiculed, and then talk will start that you like men to notice you.”
The parasol slowed. “I am in my first Season, Suze. I am a legitimate by-blow, and my name is Delilah. If I encourage the notice of the men, I’m fast. If I don’t encourage the notice of the men, I put on airs. As it happens, I am trying to attract the notice of somebody.”
Effington often rode in the park at the fashionable hour, else Susannah would never have subjected herself to two outings in a single day. After the morning’s debacle, Delilah was doubtless nervous of his lordship’s regard.
“It’s early in the Season?” Susannah said, maneuvering around a parked phaeton. “You needn’t attract anybody’s notice. Simply enjoy a pleasant outing in the company of your devoted sibling.”
“I love that about you,” Della said. “Behind your spectacles and sonnets, you’re tenacious and loyal.”
When Susannah wanted to slap her hand over Della’s mouth, she instead nodded cordially to the Duke of Quimbey, a jovial older fellow who could still gracefully turn a lady down the ballroom.
“You will please not mention my spectacles.” Spectacles were for the elderly, for clerks, and men of business. For people who had trouble reading, not for ladies who devoured literature by the hour.
“Mr. Dorning,” Della said, snapping the parasol closed and resting it against the bench. “A pleasure to see you again. What a lovely mare.”
Susannah didn’t intend to draw the carriage to the verge, but to the verge the horse did go, and there halt. Perhaps their gelding needed a rest, or had an overly developed sense of the social niceties.
“My ladies,” Mr. Willow Dorning said, touching his hat brim. “I’m happy to see the new parasol put to use. I will refrain, however, from commenting on either bonnets or weather.”