“On the contrary,” Jonathan said earnestly. “That is the sincerest compliment I have ever made a girl. And you are only my sister!”
As they settled at the polished mahogany table, Alex asked, “I assume from the evidence that Christa is working out well?”
“Christa is wonderful,” his sister said enthusiastically. “The best present you ever brought me. It’s marvelous fun going to the shops with her. She apparently thinks it is not her place to disagree with me publicly, but if I look at something she thinks unsuitable, she has the most wonderful expressions. She lifts her brows or rolls her eyes. When I admired a truly vulgar beaded headdress, Christa just closed her eyes and firmly shook her head back and forth. I find myself looking at things she will not approve of, just to see what she will do. It is the greatest fun!”
Alex had seen that gift for expression when he brought Christa and Miranda across London. It would almost be worth going to the shops with his sister to see that vividly alive face again. He thought quickly, then said, “Would you care to go walking with me in Hyde Park tomorrow, Belle? You’ll have to take Christa, since I will be going on to the Admiralty afterward, but I want to show you off to the polite world.”
Annabelle looked so pleased at the invitation that Alex felt a bit guilty for issuing it as a subterfuge. His conscience was soothed with the thought that since he had brought Christa to the house, it was his responsibility to see that she was happy. Duty could be such a convenient crutch.
* * *
The next day’s walk in the park was a success in terms of showing off Annabelle; Alex swore that she caused a traffic jam in Rotten Row that would not be cleared for a fortnight. A remarkable number of casual acquaintances came to greet him and beg the honor of an introduction to his sister. Annabelle glowed at the attention, but maintained a modest demeanor.
However, as a chance for Alex to further his acquaintance with Christa, the walk was a total failure. She trailed a demure four steps behind, her downcast eyes and mobcap proclaiming her servant’s status. When he glanced back at her once or twice, he caught a flash of mischievous eyes. Except for that, he rather fancied that her servant’s behavior wastoogood—she reminded him of a Drury Lane actress.
After a turn around the park, Alex left the two young women so he could take care of his business at the Admiralty. An experienced head of household might have been more cautious about leaving a beautiful young woman in the park, even accompanied by her maid. But Alex still had a good deal to learn.
Annabelle watched her brother’s tall figure disappear, then said, “I want to walk around the park again before we go home.”
“Are you sure, Miss Annabelle? It looks like rain.”
“A little water won’t hurt me,” Annabelle said recklessly. She reveled in the attention she attracted and was loath to return home. Last night, her brothers; today, the social world!
They were in the middle of the park when the fast-gathering clouds decided to give up their water. As raindrops started pelting down, it occurred to Annabelle that her splendor would be considerably dimmed with her golden ringlets hanging like horse tails. Then, shockingly, she realized what her muslin dress would look like soaking wet. She would appear naked!
Christa called, “The trees to the left should shelter us until this passes by!”
The two girls abandoned dignity to run across the grass, and they managed to get under a broad chestnut before becoming totally saturated. The fifteen-minute wait under the tree was filled with Annabelle’s chatter about the people they had seen and the men who had admired her. Christa listened tolerantly. Annabelle would soon come to accept the fact that she was attractive, but for the moment it was a new and delicious experience.
The rain blew over quickly and pale sunshine was restored. They were nearly out of the park when Annabelle was stopped by a puddle that filled the shrub-lined path in front of her. She was deciding whether to ruin her slippers, retreat, or risk an unladylike jump when a smooth tenor voice said, “Allow me.”
Annabelle looked up and gasped. The gentleman gazing at her so admiringly was the most elegant man she had ever seen. His dark Brutus-cropped hair was a masterpiece of artful disarray, his blue coat tailored to show his shapely torso and numerous gold fobs. He was a veritable pink of the ton, and his fine dark eyes regarded her with worshipful wonder. As Annabelle returned his gaze, the gentleman peeled off his expensive coat and laid it over the puddle in front of her.
“Such a lovely lady should not soil her dainty slippers,” he murmured, his voice seductive.
Christa watched in amusement. It was clear why Queen Elizabeth had favored Sir Walter Raleigh; the dramatic gesture could not fail to please. Of course, it had been Sir Walter’s original idea; this fop could not claim as much credit.
Annabelle tripped delicately over the coat, which he lifted behind her; clearly his chivalry did not extend to the undainty feet of maids. Looking up at him, she breathed, “Sir, you are too kind. You should not have ruined your coat for me.”
The gentleman bowed. “No price is too high if it contributes to your comfort.” As he straightened, he said with a pretty show of hesitation, “I know it is too bold of me, but permit me to introduce myself. I am Sir Edward Loaming, very much at your service.” He lifted an eyebrow in hopeful question.
“I am Annabelle Kingsley,” was the reply. Annabelle was stunned at how fully this man fulfilled her romantic fantasies; if this was a dream, she hoped never to wake.
Really, Christa thought irritably, if Annabelle didn’t close her mouth soon, something might fly in. Sir Edward’s behavior was very amusing, but surely even a child could see how overdrawn his gestures were, how cold the eyes that overlooked them.
She glanced back at Annabelle; perhaps a child could see through the man, but Annabelle, flushed with the first triumph of maidenly beauty, was dazzled by Sir Edward. Since the two were gazing into each other’s eyes with a singular lack of concern for who might be observing, Christa jumped that part of the puddle that was not now absorbed in Sir Edward’s coat and said briskly, “It is time we returned home, Miss Annabelle. You will wish to rest and change before dinner.”
Annabelle turned her starry eyes to her maid. “Very well,” she said obediently. She looked back at her admirer with a coquettish flutter of lashes. Sir Edward seized the opening provided.
“May I escort you home?” he asked with the soulful look most often seen in pets awaiting their dinner.
Annabelle nodded happily and they turned to leave the park. Sir Edward wisely abandoned his ruined coat. While he looked a bit odd in his shirt sleeves and waistcoat, he would have looked a good deal odder carrying the coat at arm’s length to prevent its dripping on the rest of his finery.
Christa followed the handsome couple with a slight frown knitting her brows. Annabelle might be overcome by Sir Edward’s romantic good looks, but Christa was not impressed at the way he had circumvented polite manners to ingratiate himself. Sir Edward reminded her of some of the exquisites who had fluttered around her in those long-ago days before the revolution. Some were amusing company, but the whole raft of them together was worth less than a real man like her brother or Alex Kingsley.
The trip back to St. James’s Square was a dawdling one, delightful for Annabelle, tedious for her maid. Christa was glad that they would soon be repairing to the country—clearly Sir Edward wanted to learn where Annabelle lived so he might call on her. Next autumn he might be one of many, but at the moment he had the value of novelty. If Annabelle became too enamored of his charms, she might ignore more-worthy suitors.
At the door of Kingsley House, Christa whisked her mistress inside before Sir Edward could make too many fatuous remarks. Nonetheless, the interval before dinner was filled with Annabelle’s dreamy comments about her escort’s handsome face, elegant figure, cultivated voice, and general all-around wonderfulness. Christa confined herself to noncommittal noises at first, but after two hours started losing patience. She was curling Annabelle’s hair when her mistress said for the dozenth time, “Isn’t he the handsomest man you have ever seen, Christa?”
