“Very well.Thank you, my lord.”
“Please,” Jonathan said to them both, “call me Bowen.”
Lise felt a shiver of excitement run through her.It was the second time he’d offered her such intimacy.But she wouldn’t say it, at least not in front of her brother.
In short order, Jonathan had asked a footman to whistle for histiger, the young man who looked after his carriage and horses all evening.At her first dinner party, she’d asked where the carriages disappeared to, seeing how crowded some sections of London were, only to be laughed at by a silly lady who herself hadn’t the foggiest idea.
Since then, Lise had learned a man’s tiger would walk the horses along nearby streets to keep them warm in winter or would use the closest stable in good weather to let the animals rest.In this case, Jonathan’s carriage and horses would undoubtedly be at the Earl’s own stable in Apple Tree Yard.
His tiger would have unharnessed the horses upon arrival, given them a quick wipe-down and a drink, and then the young fellow would lounge in the straw.After a few hours, the tiger would harness the horses again in preparation for a footman’s whistle.All this Lise had been told at her second dinner party by an eager viscount who’d vowed she was the fairest woman in Britain.He’d also been well in his cups by that time.
Lise and Henrik bid any lingering guests and their hosts good evening.Jonathan kissed his mother and shook his father’s hand before doing the same with his younger brother and bowing over the hand of Mrs.Bowen.Lise noticed that Lady Hartwell had already vanished while she and Henrik had been touring the study.It gave her some small satisfaction.
After collecting her cashmere shawl and the gentlemen’s overcoats, the three of them stepped out into the London night.The air was cooler now, the barest of summer breezes lessening the unpleasant aromas that plagued the city in the warmer months.A mixture of rotting vegetables, dead animals, human excrement, horse dung, offal from butchers’ wharves, and the sour stench of tanneries and soap-boilers had assailed her nostrils during the weeks she’d been there.
And of course, the smell of the River Thames, which was ...indescribable.
Lise could still catch a whiff of each and every offending odor, despite the breeze.Shaking her head, she couldn’t fathom Lady Hartwell’s declaration that London was superior to everywhere else.How about somewhere one could breathe easily?
Jonathan’s phaeton pulled up almost as soon as the Earl’s door closed behind them.Two silver-plated lamps, burning whale oil, made the carriage appear to be a great beast with yellow-white eyes.A youth in a striped waistcoat, the tiger, jumped five feet to the street, and let down the two folding steps, before taking up his place at the horses’ heads.
Drawing her shawl closer, Lise fell into step between her brother and Jonathan, as they descended the ten steps to the street and approached the carriage.
“A high flyer,” Henrik said, with a measure of admiration.“It is quite the vehicle.”
“It is,” Jonathan said, sounding pleased.“A little cramped for three if it were anyone else apart from Miss von Ostenfeld, who is the perfect slip of girl.”
Lise hoped that didn’t mean he thought her to be too skinny or lacking in the curves of a woman.She took a deep breath to fill out her gown and quickly regretted it, upon getting a snootful of London’s stench.
“Climb up first, and then you can assist your sister,” Jonathan suggested to Henrik, who did precisely that.
As her brother had done, Lise put her foot on the lowest step and the second on the middle step before reaching up to grasp Henrik’s outstretched hand.Once he’d helped her onto the carriage deck, she swung her leg straight over the low seat-back rail so she could take her place on the dark-green leather squab, and then Henrik sat beside her.
The entire embarkation only took her seconds, but she’d had to lift her skirts above her ankles.
As Jonathan dropped onto the seat beside her a moment later, she realized he had seen her legs from below.Gracious!On the one hand, her parents would be scandalized.On the other, she hoped he had fully appreciated the view.
The tiger gave Jonathan the reins, and they took off even before the youth had taken his place on the little dickey affixed to the back.She needn’t have worried, for he made a running jump and was aboard, none the worse.
For a few minutes, no one spoke.Their shoulders, hips, and legs were, by necessity, pressed as tightly as salted fish in a barrel.None of them spoke over the rattling of the carriage wheels and the occasional bark of a dog, perhaps in the mews where one might guard the back entrance to a residence.The street was well-lit here, as the wealthy owners paid to have large oil lamps maintained on the exterior of their homes, casting pools of yellow light at regular intervals.
However, Lise was scarcely looking at the scene spreading out below and around her.She was acutely aware of her heart thumping under her satin gown as her entire side was pressed against the viscount.So attuned to Jonathan and the warmth of his tall form, she didn’t even feel her brother on her other side and was surprised when he abruptly spoke.
“Your work takes you into out of doors regularly?”Henrik asked.“I would like that.When I eventually leave the army, I think I will be a farmer.”
Jonathan laughed, and Lise felt it rumble through her.He kept his face forward, as did she.If he turned his head, his chin would be nearly against her temple.His lips close enough to brush against her forehead.
“I’ve been all over Britain, like a scurrying rat,” Jonathan joked.“But I’ve also had the chance, twice, to survey areas of Europe.”
They all let that sink in.“Dangerous work, in wartime,” Henrik said at last.
Jonathan glanced at him.“Less dangerous than yours, Lieutenant.”
Henrik made a noncommittal sound, and they said no more about Bonaparte’s war.
The viscount drove the horses expertly through the maze of streets, the phaeton’s springs creaking when they left the well-maintained thoroughfares of St.James’s behind.It took Lise a few minutes to get used to the bone-jarring ride.Even though Jonathan was walking his horses, she thought it the least comfortable carriage she’d ridden in since disembarking the ship at Harwich harbor.
Clamping her mouth closed as every uneven surface was transmitted through the wheels up to the horsehair stuffed seats, rattling her teeth, she couldn’t think of anything to say in any case.
