“Alone, Mr. Thorne?” Anna raised her eyebrows while Jessica regarded him thoughtfully.
“In an open curricle, ma’am,” he said. “Ought I to have arranged a party? I have become unaccustomed to the English way of doing things.”
But he looked slightly amused, Jessica thought, as though there were something a bit funny about her needing a chaperon if she stepped out with him.
Wouldshe go? She knew nothing more of him than his name and the facts that he was a relative of Lady Vickers and had recently returned from a lengthy stay in America. Any other gentleman, if he made so bold as to call upon her the day after making her formal acquaintance, would ask no more than that she drive in Hyde Park with him at the fashionable hour of the afternoon or that she reserve a dance for him at the next ball. Or he would send her flowers. Her mother would certainly have something to say about this invitation if she were here. So would Avery.
But good heavens, she was twenty-five years old. And he was not asking her to go to the ends of the earth with him. Or the moon.
But did shewantto go? That was the only question that signified. “It must be all of two years since I was last in Richmond Park,” she began, but before she could say more the drawing room door opened and Avery strolled in.
He was still in his riding clothes, though he wore them, as he wore everything else, with a somewhat showy elegance. He had abandoned his outdoor garments. He was holding a quizzing glass in one hand, not as bejeweled as the one he had chosen last evening, though really there was no great difference. He wore rings on multiple fingers of each hand, and his nails were perfectly manicured. He might have been considered foppish, Jessica had often thought, had it not been for the air of authority and masculinity and even danger that he wore as surely as he wore his perfectly tailored clothes. And, as she had so recently thought, there was never anything vulgar about Avery’s appearance.
His eyes paused upon Mr. Thorne for a moment before moving to Anna. “We have returned,” he said. “No falls and no broken bones, you will be happy to know, my love. Merely a few sulks that we could not continue riding for yet another hour.”
“You are sulking?” Anna asked.
“Ah,” he said, raising the glass halfway to his eye. “Yes. I was not as precise as I might have been, was I? Josephine has gone upstairs to paint, because it is what shewantedto do all along. She did notwantto go riding. It is stupid. She did it merely to humor me.”
“Oh dear,” Anna said, smiling. “May I make Mr. Thorne known to you? My husband, Mr. Thorne.”
Mr. Thorne had stood to make his bow.
“You were pointed out to me last evening,” Avery said, regarding their visitor with lazy eyes. “But there was no chance to make your acquaintance. You are a kinsman of Lady Vickers, I understand?” He looked steadily at Mr. Thorne, his quizzing glass halfway to his eye.
“Her second or third cousin, possibly with a remove involved,” Mr. Thorne said. “I never was sure of the exact connection. We are a large, far-flung family.”
“As far-flung as America, I understand,” Avery said. “But you have returned.”
“I have,” Mr. Thorne said agreeably, and Jessica was again given the impression that he was amused. “And Lady Vickers has been obliging enough to make my return known to some of her peers, though I have been gone, alas, too long to remember any of them, if, indeed, I ever met them. I visited London only once or twice when I was a young lad.”
“Quite so,” Avery said, raising his glass all the way to his eye as he looked the bouquet over with a slightly pained expression. “Your offering, Thorne?”
“No,” Jessica said quickly. “They were awaiting Anna and me when we returned from the library with the children. I believe they would look better broken down into several vases and distributed through the house.”
“I will leave that to your judgment,” he said, lowering his glass. “But I am happy to relinquish my mental image of you staggering into Hanover Square under the weight of such a floral offering, Thorne.”
“Mr. Thorne has asked me to drive out to Richmond Park with him tomorrow,” Jessica said. “In his curricle. I have not been there for at least a couple of years.”
“A curricle,” Avery said. “Without her mother or a maid to accompany her, then. It is fortunate, Thorne, that you have Lady Vickers to vouch for your respectability.”
“It is.” He inclined his head, and Jessica thought hestilllooked slightly amused. Most people, even men, meeting Avery for the first time were awed by him, even intimidated.
“Again,” Avery said, “I leave the choice of whether she accepts your invitation or not to my sister’s judgment.”
Mr. Thorne had not sat back down since Avery entered the room. “I will not take any more of your time,” he said, turning to her. “Lady Jessica,willyou drive to Richmond Park with me tomorrow?”
There was, as everyone was saying, something of a mystery about him. He was a man who must surely have an interesting story to tell. But he was perfectly respectable, as Avery had just said. He was a gentleman, a relative of Lady Vickers. It was not, perhaps, quite wise to grant him such a favor upon a very slight acquaintance, but she could not resist the chance to learn more of that story. If, that was, he was willing to tell it. She wondered irrelevantly what her answer would be if it were Mr. Rochford standing there asking to take her to Richmond Park.
But there was a silence waiting to be filled.
“Thank you, Mr. Thorne,” she said. “I will.”
“At one o’ clock?” He bowed after she had nodded, took his leave of Avery and Anna, and strode from the room.
“Well, this is an interesting turn of events,” Anna said a few moments after the door had closed behind him. “I would have wagered upon Mr. Rochford’s calling this afternoon, if anyone, but it is Mr. Thorne who came instead.”
“I suppose, Jess,” Avery said, “it was Rochford who sent the flowers.”
