“Lilian, I have hoped for the opportunity to become reacquainted with you ever since the first time I saw you. The occasion did not arise until this week. I had begun to believe I would not get the chance,” Lord Harlow answered as he stared into her eyes.
A sigh caught in her throat and she felt her heart beat strangely fast.
“You have left me without a response,” she whispered.
Lord Harlow dipped his head and pulled his horses to the right, signalling Lord Yarstone to follow. The two gentlemen turned their carriages off the main drive, slowing down as the party followed a narrower road.
He met her gaze. “I am being truthful. I realize that our first introduction was dreadful. I had hoped for better.” He transferred his reins to one fist, sliding his free hand over her gloved one and squeezed gently. “Do you feel hungry?” Lord Harlow nodded towards the tree-canopied clearing ahead of them, where a small stream rippled in the dappled light. Sunshine filtered through the branches of the trees and illuminated an area of velvet-like grass. Patches of pink and white phlox covered the ground, accentuating the edges of the stream. “That looks like a perfect spot for a picnic. It is not secluded, but the traffic mostly stays on the main carriageway.”
Lord Yarstone’s red phaeton edged up beside them. “Would you care to picnic here?” He spoke loudly across to Lord Harlow and Lilian.
“Lady Lilian and I were discussing that possibility.” Lord Harlow turned and looked at her, his blue eyes sparkling.
Lilian leaned forward to see her sister’s reaction. Lydia was nodding, so she took a steadying breath.
“Yes, my lord. This would be a lovely spot.”I hope I do not regret this. Lord Harlow…John…will have to carry me to the picnic blanket.Her heart raced a little faster at the thought of his hands holding her.
Lydia and Lord Yarstone took a blanket from each vehicle and spread them neatly beside the stream. Lord Harlow handed the reins of his curricle to his tiger and walked around to Lilian. Gently, he lifted her from the curricle. She slipped her arms around his neck. The scent of bergamot and bay leaf teased her senses, and without considering the impropriety, pulled closer. His touch, his very smell, lent her a sense of comfort and safety she had not felt since before the accident. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder, but with belated modesty, maintained as much distance as she reasonably could. It was good fortune for her that the distance was short, or she might have succumbed.
Lord Harlow—John—tenderly placed her on the blanket next to her sister.
“Thank you…my lord.” Lilian struggled with the notion of calling him by his Christian name, but in front of Lord Yarstone and her sister, she felt particularly awkward. It was too intimate, too soon. This whole adventure felt awkward, now that she thought of it. Her promise to her sister to attend one silly ball had grown into a picnic in Richmond Park with the man who had saved her life, a man whose appearance she had struggled for almost a year to recall. His fragrance had been the only thing she could remember… and now she was here with him. She shook her head.
“This will be fun!” Lydia opened the two baskets and laid out a bottle of wine, a bowl of fruits, and a small platter of cheese and meats before them. Her sister carefully poured glasses of wine, while Lilian took the plates and placed a small portion of the various meats, cheeses and bread on each.
“This is a feast!” Lilian raised her eyes to John’s and took a sip. “This is very pleasant, sir. Thank you for this day.” She looked over at her sister, who was sitting much closer than was proper to Lord Yarstone. That gentleman was reading Lydia a sonnet from her favourite book as they sipped wine and ignored the remainder of the repast.
“Did you hear that?” John asked soon after, setting down his emptied glass.
Lilian stilled, and John stood up, scanning the trees and along the small valley in which they sat.
“I hear something.” She set her wine glass back inside the basket to keep it from spilling and listened. Persistent whimpering and weak barking sounded from behind the cluster of trees, followed by laughter.
“’Ere, I got it on the ’ead!”
“Grab its tail!”
“So? I pulled its whiskers!”
Bragging words and another bark penetrated the thick undergrowth which choked the floor of the copse beyond the trees they sat beneath.
“It sounds like an animal and some children. The animal sounds in distress.”
Before they could discuss it, one boy shot through the trees, his arms holding a paw and hind leg of the poor animal, spinning it about and jeering. The other boys followed, throwing stones at a small apricot-coloured dog.
“Your turn, Ralph.” The boy kicked at a smaller boy. “Do it!”
“I doesn’t want to, George…” the younger boy named Ralph wailed to the larger youth. “Don’t make me.” Both boys wore ragged pants that barely covered their legs. Their shirts and jackets were soiled and tattered. The older boy, George, wore a flat cap, blackened with what appeared to be coal dust.
George shoved the younger boy with his elbow. “Ye missed his head, and ye owe me a penny. Take the stone and ’it ’is head,” demanded the red-headed, pimply-faced youth called George. He seemed unaware he had the full attention of their party. To emphasize his point, he spun the poor animal again, holding two legs in a circle around him. The animal tried to draw its body into a ball but was too weary and merely cried in distress.
An anger such as she had never felt before welled up in Lilian. “Stop. Stop that this minute! Bring the poor animal to me.” She clenched her fists beside her gown, hating that she could not get up and plant the older child a facer.
“What, me dog? What’s ’e to ye?” The red-headed boy turned and at last noticed the party of adults. Dropping the puppy to the ground, still holding a rope to its neck, he folded his arms in front of him. His stance was belligerent, but Lilian noticed he maintained a safe distance from the adults. A third, dark-haired boy pulled up behind his friend, holding a fist-sized stone in his hand that he had obviously planned to pitch at the puppy’s head.
“Release that animal at once!” Fury laced her voice as Lilian fought to control her temper. She detested the mistreatment of animals. She had always mended the wings of birds, taken splinters from paws, fed baby squirrels which found their way from their drey too soon. Her father had allowed her to take care of animals and, in fact, had even encouraged it. Mama, however, was not of the same mind. She did not want animals in her house, but had usually relented in the end, allowing Lilian to nurture the animals back to health.
Harlow rose to his feet and stepped in George’s direction, his face mottled with anger. “I believe the lady asked you to let the animal go.”
