Their coats gleamed with health, and their deep chestnut tone and glossy black manes mimicked to perfection the lacquered wood and dark trim of the curricle they drew. She could see why even a city-bred girl like Mary would be impressed, though the maid likely saw the vehicle rather than the superb equine specimens.
Mister Banbrook halted beside her. Emilia schooled her awed expression. She made certain her mouth was closed and headed down the steps. She wished she could introduce herself to the bays but, if she’d learned anything at Lady Peddington’s School, it was that gentlemen didn’t care to have their realms invaded by females unless they led the conversation there, and horseflesh was a man’s business.
Mister Banbrook handed her up, palm warm through his glove. When he climbed in beside her, the curricle dipped, but evened back out. She hid a smile, thinking the team would be better pleased if their master could sit in the center of the bench seat. With his tall frame, he must weigh twice what she did, even if she was too plumply curved, as Lady Cinthia had noted.
Emilia held her breath when Mister Banbrook took up the reins, for it would be a travesty if he couldn’t handle the pair as well as they deserved. She expelled the air she held, relieved when he guided the curricle into traffic with the offhanded surety of skill. He navigated the mild chaos of Charlotte Square with ease.
By the time they reached the park, Emilia’s mood had lightened. The day was fine, even brighter than the one before and possessed of a light, warm breeze. She rode in the most elegant vehicle she’d ever set eyes on, pulled by a peerless team, with a tall, handsome Englishman beside her. She would not dwell on the fact that he was not to be her tall and handsome Englishman, but rather would enjoy the beauty of the ride.
Mister Banbrook merged his curricle into the parade of vehicles circling within the park, the gentry in each on display for one another. She wore her best day dress, but Emilia realized she appeared a bit shabby for the occasion. Other women wore hats piled high with adornments, held lace parasols offering flattering, dappled shade, and sported glittering jewels. She hoped Mister Banbrook wasn’t embarrassed by her appearance. Certainly, she wasn’t fine enough to occupy his curricle.
She couldn’t suppress a small sigh. How would she ever attract a husband? She had no dowry, no willowy grace like Lady Cinthia, and not enough funds to purchase clothing that would conceal either condition.
“Sighing, Miss Glasbarr?” Mister Banbrook’s tone was still neutral, though no longer as cool.
Emilia put a hand to her mouth. To sigh was bad manners. In truth, she hadn’t needed finishing school to know that.
“I am not engaging you in proper conversation, I know,” Mister Banbrook continued. “Please forgive me.”
She dropped her hand. “Oh, no, the error is mine. I am meant to begin conversation, I believe. On the weather, or perhaps the classics. Being a bit overwhelmed by the display before me, I forgot.”
“The display?” He turned his head, and took in the other carriages. “Edinburgh needs a larger park.”
“I think the park is lovely.” Did he think his English cities so much grander? “Not every place is London, or wants to be.” Her hand went back to her mouth as her aggrieved tone reached her ears. She needed to learn to shut her mouth and keep it closed.
Mister Banbrook looked at her askance. “Which is fortunate. The world would be a boring place were every city the same.”
Emilia nodded, not trusting herself to speak. They rode on in silence. Her mood well dampened once more, she cast about for a safe topic.
“You meant the other ladies, I take it?” Mister Banbrook said. “Your sigh was of the envious sort?”
So, he’d noticed her unmodish attire. Not surprising, since there was no hiding her drab garb. Emilia shrugged. “They look awfully fine, but my sigh wasn’t envy. More, well, despair. How can I attract a husband, any husband, with such a display? No man will notice me.”
“If you look about you, I think you’ll find many men noticing you.”
“They’re noticing you, Mister Banbrook, and your curricle and team. If they look at me, they glance only to wonder why you would possibly keep company with someone so shabby.”
“If any suggest as much, I’ll put them in their place,” he replied.
Emilia felt a blush threaten, for his words seemed oddly sincere.
“You’re the most beguiling creature in this park,” he continued. “Men don’t care about bonnets heaped with bows and lace, or dresses trimmed out in the latest fashion. We often don’t even notice such things. Or the lack of jewelry.”
Her hand went to her throat again. Did he know Viscount Dunreid had given her a necklace? Was that why he was cool, why he kept looking at her neck? But so few people knew. He wouldn’t have learned such a detail from the viscount.
No, if Mister Banbrook knew, the knowledge could only have come from the viscountess. So, he was keeping company with Lady Cinthia. Emilia suppressed another sigh. The thought was like someone draping her in a sopping wet cloak. The knowledge stole all potential joy from the day.
High above, a fluffy cloud slid across the sun. Emilia squinted heavenward, finding the sudden dimness fit her mood. Across the open expanse they rode, she could see sunshine in other areas of the park. The light made the ladies’ jewels sparkle.
“Now you truly are letting the conversation lapse, Miss Glasbarr,” Mister Banbrook said. He watched her from the corner of his eye. “I mentioned your lack of jewelry.”
“I own no jewelry, Mister Banbrook. Though I can’t think my lack of adornment a fitting topic to discuss after so short an acquaintance, I will say that if anyone observed I do not wear, say, a necklace, and attempted to rectify the absence, I would certainly return such an item.” She sought to press the disappointment of his involvement with Lady Cinthia from her mind so she could glean why he was so dogged about the pendant.
“Would you, now?”
“I would,” she said firmly. He must wish to know if he was wasting his time, she concluded. If she had accepted a present from Dunreid, Mister Banbrook had no reason to help her. “To keep such a gift, let alone wear it, would be tantamount to accepting a proposal from a gentleman. I would no’ do so lightly.”
“Even if the object in question was quite valuable? Something you could sell at a later date?”
“Especially then,” she said, a touch exasperated. Must the English always be so convoluted?
“That’s good to know, and I apologize for my unfitting topic.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Mister Banbrook was so very English. Couched in impeccable manners, they did as they pleased, then apologized with the same stiff aplomb. A Scot would have asked if she’d accepted the gift, taken her no as a yes, and gone off to challenge Viscount Dunreid.
Some of her exasperation fled. No, not challenge him, for Mister Banbrook was not her suitor. He was only there to find her one.
