Allie and Isolde exchanged a look.
Allie’s eyes sparked with mischief. “We were merely trying to decide which of our husbands appear to greater advantage in a well-cut coat. As you can imagine, I keep insisting it is my Ethan, but the duchess has been refuting my claim.”
Lady Lavinia’s mouth closed with a snap.
“Kendall is most dashing,” Isolde agreed, “particularly in evening attire. As his twin sister, you must acknowledge as much.” She lifted an eyebrow at Allie.
“He is my brother. I am blind to any physical charms he may possess.”
“And what about my Aubrey?” Lady Lavinia tilted her head.
“What about him?” Allie replied, her words politely inquisitive, as if she couldn’t imagine why a milksop like Aubrey should be placed in the same category as finely-made male specimens such as Ethan Penn-Leith and the Duke of Kendall.
Lady Lavinia soldiered on. “Aubrey was not part of your conjecture?” She looked pointedly ahead to where her husband strolled with Ethan and the duchess.
“Oh! About hydraulic engineering or his . . . physique?” Allie gave Isolde an exaggerated glance of dismay.
“His physique, of course,” Lady Lavinia replied as if Allie were an imbecile. “That is what we are speaking of, is it not?”
“Of . . . course,” Allie said, swallowing at the end. “Uhm . . . Aubrey’s manly . . . appearance.”
Isolde ordered her lips not to smile. It was a difficult task.
Allie said nothing more, appearing lost and unsure. The silence lingered, speaking volumes as to the inadequacies of Lady Lavinia’s choice of husband.
As if on cue, Aubrey squealed like a wee girl and began waving his arms frantically over his head, spinning in a circle.
“Is the bee on me?” he yelped, bouncing from foot to foot on the gravel path. “Can you see it?”
“Gracious. Such panic is hardly warranted,” the Duchess of Andover intoned, stepping out of the way of her son-in-law’s flailing and shooting a telling glance back at her daughter. “’Tis merely an insect.”
Ethan paused and surveyed Cousin Aubrey still swatting at the air. “I believe ye have vanquished the beast, Mr. Gilbert.”
Allie giggled at Isolde’s side.
Fortunately, Isolde still held her handkerchief and could use it to hide her own smile. But given the dagger-sharp glare Lady Lavinia gave her, Isolde doubted the cloth concealed anything.
Nostrils flaring, Lady Lavinia pivoted toward her husband, but as she moved, her shoulder bumped harshly into Isolde’s, sending Isolde stumbling. Only Allie’s strong hand grasping her elbow kept Isolde from pitching head-first onto the gravel path.
“Oops! Pardon me!” Lavinia snipped, not a trace of apology in her tone.
The woman stomped to her husband’s side and grabbed his arm. “I agree with Mr. Penn-Leith, my dear. The bee is gone. Shall we continue on to the Serpentine?” She gave Isolde and Allie another daggerish look over her shoulder. “I, for one, am all anticipation for your discourse on its formation.”
The small group walked quickly on, Ethan offering his arm to the Duchess of Andover.
Allie growled. “Uffa, but I hate that woman!”
“Aye.” Isolde let her handkerchief drop. “I have rather vivid fantasies of retribution that end in Lady Lavinia on bended knee begging for my forgiveness.”
Allie laughed.
Lavinia whipped her head around to glare at them.
Which, of course, only made Allie laugh harder.
They continued along the path, staying a wee bit behind the rest of their party and Lady Lavinia’s malicious glowers.
The path emerged from trees to the wider open grassy areas that led down to the Serpentine, the large man-made lake in the center of the park. Couples and groups walked the gravel paths, as well as servants rushing to complete tasks. Children with nurses in tow screeched across the lawn, chasing balls and each other, filling the air with shrieks of laughter.
