Naomi said with a twinkle, “I give not a button for public opinion, as you should know.”
“Yet you terminated your betrothal to my brother.”
Startled, Naomi met the candid blue eyes, then gave a rueful smile. “That gave me back my own! Lud, but I had forgot how outspoken you are.”
“’Tis a great fault, I know,” admitted Gwendolyn, with a sigh. “Most ladies have always to say just the right thing, for fear of offending the gentlemen. But since I shall never marry, there is not the need for me to guard my words.”
The serving maid brought their tea and cake, and Naomi busied herself with cups and saucers. “What a blessing, to be so at ease,” she said merrily. “But I would not refine too much upon your remaining a spinster, Gwen. You are very pretty and will make some lucky gentleman a delightful wife.”
Accepting a piece of cake, Gwendolyn said thoughtfully. “Thank you. But it must be a rare gentleman, I think, who would be willing to overlook my many faults. Despite your kindness, I am really not very pretty. Gideon used to say I was, bless him. But Newby is more honest. He says I have countenance…” She made a face. “And worse than that—I am a bluestocking. Furthermore, did my husband deny me the right to read, or to entertain opinions on books, or politics, I should very likely murder him. So you see it is much better I remain a spinster than wind up hanged on Tyburn Tree.”
This ingenuous little speech, so gravely rendered, sent Naomi into whoops of laughter. “Oh, Gwen!” she gasped. “How delightful you are! I wish I could spend more time with you so that we could talk about old times, but friends are waiting and I cannot stay. Wemustmeet again. Can you come and see me? I stay with the Falcons at the moment. Katrina and August are there, and Mrs. Dudley Falcon—do you recall their aunt? Such a quaint lady. You know where Falcon House is, on Great Ormond Street? Or perhaps I shall see you at the Glendenning Ball?”
“Er—no, I fear not,” said Gwendolyn, concentrating upon stirring her tea, and looking miserable.
“Oh!” exclaimed Naomi, staring at her in belated comprehension. “What a ninny I am!” She paused, then said rather sadly, “There is a wall between us now. Because of Gideon we can no longer be friends.”
Irked by any criticism of her favourite brother, Gwendolyn’s little chin came up. “An we cannot be friends ’tis because you chose to believe all the rumours about—about the lady he is said to er, call upon.”
“And his children.” Naomi jabbed her fork rather savagely into the cake.
“What?”Gwendolyn flushed and her eyes sparked with anger. “Now that is the outside of enough! If ever I heard such vicious gossip!”
“So I thought,” said Naomi. “And like a fool, closed my ears to it—for months! But now I have had it straight from the horse’s mouth, as they say.”
Frowning, Gwendolyn asked with cold hauteur, “You have been to Holland, ma’am?”
“Holland? Why—no. Gwen? Have you not seen your brother?”
The ice between them was banished. With breathless eagerness Gwendolyn asked, “Do you mean—Gideon?He is home? You—you have spoken with him?”
“Yes. I thought you would know by this time.”
“Oh! Thank God! I was sure—” For an instant it seemed she would burst into tears, then she asked in a voice that shook, “He is well? Is he much changed? Oh, heavens! He will not know where to find us!” Taking up her cane, she said, “I must go home at once. Pray forgive me! Lud, but I am forgetting! Thank you so much for the tea.” She stood. “Good—good day to you, my lady.”
Her footman came hurrying to usher her out, and Naomi was left staring after her.
***
“If ever I saw such a start!” Reining down his rambunctious grey stallion, August Falcon had to ride out two whirligigs before he could continue with his tirade, but he did so, in spite of the irrepressible dance of mischief in Naomi’s eyes. “Not content,” he said, avoiding a heavily laden baker’s cart with an inch to spare, “with drawing half the gentlemen in London to your side—”
“Come now, August. Few of London’s gentlemen have left their beds by seven o’clock in the morning. I may have met one or two acquaintances, perhaps, but—”
“One or two score! ’Twas like a blasted parade! And then you’ve to go off at the gallop with Tio Glendenning and that starched-up Chandler!”
“’Twas a fast trot, merely,” she protested demurely. “And Gordie Chandler isnotstarched up, August. A little reserved, perhaps.”
The great city was relatively quiet at this early hour, the air clean and brisk, the work-bound throngs not yet crowding the flagways, and as they turned into Great Ormond Street, Naomi said cajolingly, “’Tis such a glorious morning. Only see how the sun shines on those pretty geraniums. How can you be so grumpy? Smile, my dear friend, before that handsome face of yours forgets how!”
He directed an irked glance at her, but she was a sight to banish vexation, dimples peeping as she easily controlled the spirited bay mare, the sunlight gleaming on her powdered curls, the wine-coloured riding habit accentuating the shapely curves of her figure. With a reluctant grin, Falcon prepared to be less stern with this lively creature, but his forbearance fled when another irritant met his eye. “Smile, is it!” he exclaimed. “I’m more like to laugh aloud. Only look what you’ve attracted now, you siren!”
Startled, Naomi turned her head.
A man was running along behind them. A most disreputable figure, his clothing old and shabby, his scratch wig dishevelled, a battered hat flourished in his hand, and one eye decidedly blackened. “Poor thing,” she said with ready sympathy. “’Tis just a beggar. Have you a florin, August?”
“A florin my eye! He’ll take a sixpence and like it!” He spun the coin at their pursuer. “Now be off with you!”
To their mutual surprise, the man ignored the coin and continued to stagger after them, waving his hat and calling gaspingly, “My… lady! Wait! Please… wait a bit!”
