In the century and more since King Charles I had graciously opened Hyde Park to the common people, it had become a popular place. In addition to the innocent pleasures of walking, picnics, and games, many duels had been fought here. The mile-long Rotten Row was a parade ground for the elite. Rossiter had not expected it to be crowded at seven o’clock on a cloudy morning, however, and he was more than a little exasperated to see some half dozen riders escorting three ladies, one of whom was Naomi. She was wearing a creamy beige habit with big gold buttons. Her hat was a jaunty, high-crowned creation, and as he approached he could see that she was all light-hearted coquetry, her merry little laugh trilling out in response to some remark, the orange ribands of her hat fluttering in the rather chill wind as she swayed to the cavorting of her high-spirited bay mare.
Rossiter rode to join them as Viscount Glendenning was complaining that Lady Naomi was cruel to refuse his offer to drive her down to Richmond.
“But I attended your ball, Tio,” she answered mischievously, “and I must not be too particular, you know.”
“Besides which,” put in Lord Sommers, “Lady Naomi goes with me to the military review at St. James’. Now do not break my heart by refusing, sweet enchantress. You said you would, you know you did.”
“I said Imight,my lord,” Naomi qualified, tapping his arm gently with her riding whip, her green eyes smiling at him.
Trying to edge his black between Sommers and Naomi, Mr. Harrier lisped, “And she mightnot,Sommers! Especially since I can offer a boat party—”
“Which will be rained on,assurement,” laughed a clean-cut young major who was unknown to Rossiter. “You will be far better advised to go with me to my mama’s musicale, lovely one.”
“You are all so good to me,” said Naomi. “And did I intend to accept any of these delightful invitations, Hilary, I would certainly consider—”
“Gideon!”
Rossiter had been so intent upon his beloved that he’d scarcely noticed the other two ladies. Now, he was amazed to hear Gwendolyn’s voice call his name, and to discover her mounted on a quiet chestnut gelding, and watching him fondly. Gordon Chandler rode beside her, and beyond Chandler were Miss Falcon and Cyril Crenshore. Quite aware that the cheery banter had ceased, and that several frigid glances came his way, Rossiter guided his mount close to his sister.
“What on earth are you doing here, cheerful sparrow? I’d fancied you snug in your bed at home.”
“Luckily, you are mistaken,” said Chandler, ever gallant. “Are you well, Ross? Miss Gwendolyn tells me you’d a pair of narrow escapes on Wednesday.”
“Which is surprising to none,” observed Mr. Crenshore, sardonically.
Ignoring him, Gideon said, “I’ll own time has not hung heavy on my hands since I came home. Now tell me, Gwen, how came you here? And what are you about letting this hedgebird escort you?”
Chandler laughed, and Gwendolyn said blithely that no lady could wish a more pleasant escort. “You know I love to ride in the early morning, and Miss Falcon was so kind as to invite me to join their party today. Tummet brought me. I thought you must have known, for he said he left you a note.”
It had taken Rossiter some minutes to decipher that note. Several words were quite incomprehensible, but the gist of it appeared to be that Tummet had gone to the port with a hen to hide her bosom in a box. At that point, amused but mystified, he’d abandoned the effort. Glancing back now, he saw that Tummet was indeed plodding along behind.
The valet doffed his hat and enquired with a leer. “Get me note, Guv?”
“I did,” called Gideon. “What did it say?”
Tummet looked at a sympathetic cloud. “Cor!” he told it. And to his employer added with offended dignity, “I writ plain as what anyone could see that I’d gorn to escort Miss Gwen to ride with her bosom bow—which is a word, or words, meaning friend what is closest to her ’eart.”
“Perfectly correct,” said Gwendolyn, and added softly, “what did you think he said?”
Gideon chuckled. “Never mind. What the deuce is he riding?”
“King Arthur’s charger, by the look of it,” said Chandler. “I’ll allow you to chat with your pretty sister, Ross. Only provided you are polite to the lady.” He drove home his spurs, and joined the forward party.
Crenshore clearly wished to ride ahead also, but Katrina would not be manoeuvred into abandoning the Rossiters and said with her kind smile, “Do you go on, sir, for there is a matter I must discuss with Miss Rossiter.”
Scowling, Crenshore left them.
Katrina lowered her voice. “Lady Naomi is anxious to speak with you, Captain Rossiter. She asks that you meet her in the large clump of willows by the Serpentine.”
“Thank you, ma’am” he said gratefully. “You are very good. Especially, since you must have formed a very poor first opinion of me.”
She looked at him with anxiety in her fascinating eyes. “My brother and I are not accepted, as you must know, and—”
“Stuff,” interrupted Gwendolyn, ever loyal. “I saw how the gentlemen fought to be beside you, and would still be doing so had you not been so kind as to stay by me.”
Katrina smiled. “They enjoy to flirt with me, perhaps. And we’ve a few friends, like Lord Horatio, who acknowledge us. But I know how most people feel about us. That is why—having been judged myself and found beyond the pale, I hesitate to judge others.”
“But you do judge me, I think,” said Gideon quietly.
