She stood in awestruck surprise as the rider, dressed like a dandy with a bright yellow frock coat, waved the feather in the air with a flourish and trotted away.
She turned to speak to Lord Hatfield, but he had disappeared. He’d already reached his horse, and she gazed open-mouthed as he almost jumped into the saddle in one fluid movement. Then horse and man set off in pursuit of the dandy who’d stolen her feather in such an audacious fashion.
Jocelyn and Lord Ludlow raced to join her. “Olivia, are you all right? What happened?” asked Jocelyn.
“A strange man, wearing the brightest yellow coat I’ve ever seen, rode up to us, and he ripped the feather from my bonnet, waved and rode off.”
“Ah, from your description I suspect you have been a victim of the honorable Guy Pritchard. Every day one of his set is dared to do something outrageous. I suspect Olivia that you have been the victim of a drinking club dare.
After being dazzled by the earl riding off in pursuit, a cold grip of fear had washed over Olivia. He’d taken her feather, and she breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t pulled off her bonnet. Ellen had dressed her hair, as always, to cover the scars. If her bonnet had been ripped off, then her hair would have been in disarray and her scars on display to all.
At that moment Lord Hatfield cantered towards them, her feather in his hand.
He bowed, waved the feather in a flourish, and returned it to her. “Your feather My Lady,” he said with humor.
“Thank you kindly, sir.” She laughed, “Such a gallant knight.”
Looking more serious he asked, “Are you all right. I dashed after that blighter, and I should have stayed to make sure you were unharmed.”
“I’m perfectly fine and grateful to my cavalier.”
“He was heading off towards Rotten Row, and his group of friends who were waiting to see his trophy. The honorable Guy Pritchard offers his sincere apologies. I don’t think he will be stealing any more feathers today. If he does then I shall have him banned from my club and all other gentlemen's clubs of distinction in London,” Lord Hatfield declared with a smile.
After they climbed back into the landau, the sun sinking in the sky there was a definite chill in the air. As Lord Hatfield had helped her into the carriage the heat rose again in her body.
That was a strange and unusual afternoon.
Strangest of all is the total, annoying, reaction I have to Lord Hatfield every time we meet. And... somehow, I don’t think I’m going to forget the sight of him jumping onto that horse and riding off to retrieve my feather.
***
As darkness fell, Cressida stared into the mirror and the candle flame reflected in the glass.
She poured the scented oil, made to her grandmother’s recipe, into the crystal bowl on the polished walnut table. The walnut came from a sacred grove near their home in France. Everything in her home was symbolic, and designed to create an illusion of power which gave her confidence.
She chanted the words, feeling the sensation of the rhythm through her body, before gazing into the surface of the water.
Nothing. No images. No guidance.
What she did see was the image from Hyde Park. She had been there, some distance behind Lord Ludlow’s carriage. Cressida had seen Marcus, her Lord Hatfield join them. She planned to meet him by chance in the park, but instead she saw him lured to the Serpentine by that conniving Lady Olivia Sherwyn.
Overcome by fury she had watched Lord Hatfield racing to his horse to retrieve that stolen turquoise feather. Was there a spark of attraction between those two? She sensed something between them. It would end in tears and distress for her rival in love. I will prevail, I always get the man I want.
In a few days it will be the opera and I know I will be close to Lord Hatfield all evening.
Start your tears flowing now Olivia Sherwyn. You won’t have to wait long to feel the pain of sorrow and loss.
Chapter 8
“Colin, I suspect you have fallen in love with Lady Jocelyn Sherwyn. We do not need to leave for the theater for another hour and you are already dressed and ready to go.”
Colin smiled sheepishly at his cousin. “You may be right Marcus. I kept telling myself I ought not to rush into anything. I met Jocelyn that first night and there were many other young ladies whom I hadn't met. Yet everywhere I go I see only Jocelyn.”
“I thought so. You’ve definitely fallen for her. James, is there anything we can do to bring him out of this state?” Marcus asked his valet.
“I suspect not, My Lord. There is no cure for being, erm… lovesick,” James replied.
“If you decide to offer for her then good luck with speaking to her Uncle Harold. I know the old miser from my club, and I can only describe him as a prize nincompoop. I like that word, it makes me smile, and there is little about the Earl of Riversmead to bring a smile to my face.”
