Chapter 13
Richard says I must stop hanging about Harry so much.That I will make him uncomfortable!Cheers, I say.Why should he be any more comfortable than I?
~From the diary of Lady Fiona MacKintosh—Mar 1893
––––––––
I Phillips Ltd.
94 Regent Street
London, England
––––––––
“Thank you, Mr.Phillips, and again, I do apologize for the rush.”Fiona smiled at the tailor as he courteously held the door to his shop open for her.“The rules of apparel are ever-changing at the Royal Wimbledon and at the Commons course, and I wanted to take advantage of the new concessions to the ladies' uniform in time for the Open.”
“It is my honor, my lady,” Phillips told her.“I am most appreciative of your business.The ensemble will be quite perfect for you.”
“And you’re certain I will have it before the tournament in two weeks’ time?”
The tailor nodded.“It will be on time, my lady.I promise.”
The bell sounded and dulled as the door closed behind Fiona.Regent Street buzzed around her, with shoppers going every which way about their business.Unfortunately, the maid who had accompanied her was nowhere in sight.No, there she was.She spotted her a street away and frowned.The silly girl flirtatiously twisted a curl around her finger and smiled coyly at the burly man hovering over her.She would have to speak to Hobbes about the maid’s lax behavior.
Turning to go after her, she was caught by the arm as she passed an alley and turned in indignation to soundly scold the ruffian who would manhandle her so.
“Hello, darling!”
“Lord Ramsay, you gave me a start,” she berated him.“I was about to beat you over the head with my parasol.Perhaps I might yet.What are you doing here?”
Ramsay chuckled.“Other than surprising you, you mean?Did you get my flowers?”
She nodded.In fact, she had several deliveries that morning.From Temple, a bouquet of white and scarlet zinnias for goodness and constancy with some blue violets for faithfulness mixed in.It had been a sweet, friendly gesture.On the other hand, Aylesbury had sent an enormous arrangement of yellow roses and azaleas, which meant forgive, forget, and temperance in the language of flowers.She didn’t know whom he thought was in self-denial, him or her.
Either that or he didn’t know the meaning of the flower, but Fiona somehow thought he had done it on purpose.Had Ramsay done the same, or was he ignorant of the fact that his small bouquet of rosebay rhododendrons warned the receiver to beware?Most likely, he hadn’t thought much of it at all.
“I did, thank you,” she said at last, looking up at him and noticing the cut across the bridge of his nose and a black eye.
With a roll of his eyes, Ramsay rubbed a finger lightly across the cut at the bridge of his nose.“I went to find your brother at his dammed club since that butler of yours wouldn’t let me in, I might add.I petitioned him for your hand, and he hit me!”
Wincing, she recalled Eve mentioning that Ramsay had done just that.“What were you thinking?I asked you not to do that at all, did I not?You shouldn’t have pressed the issue when I already told you I would wait out the season as Francis asked.”
He scoffed at that.“All I hear from you is Francis this.Francis that.What about me?Am I to wait out the season while you forget me?Every time I turn about, you are there with another man.Who was that chap you went riding with?”
“Lord Temple is just a friend,” Fiona assured him, taken aback by his jealous display.“A friend of the family.”
“Yes, he looked very friendly,” he offered snidely.“And the other one?”
She blinked.“Other one?You mean at the park last week?You were there?”
“Yes, hoping for a moment with you,” he said, then sighed dramatically.“Ah, Fiona, don’t you remember all the good times we had before you left Scotland?I still think I can best you on that seventh hole on the New Course one of these days.Imagine how lovely it would be to play every day.We could do anything you want.”
