“Just ‘nice’?” Jane’s brush paused over her hair. “That’s a shame. He is the best-looking of Edward’s friends. And he has an income of two thousand pounds a year, I’m told, which you must agree isn’t shabby.”
“No. It… It sounds like a lot.”
Jane laughed. “I suspect he’ll call and invite you to join him on a carriage ride to the park. You’ll be able to discover more about him.”
The guests played spillikins and card games for the rest of the evening. During a game of whist, Mr. Nash revealed his determination to win and appeared cast down when Jane and Edward triumphed.
“It takes a lot to beat my wife at cards,” Edward said, lounging back in his chair and gazing fondly at Jane. Narrow-shouldered and not what one would call handsome, the fair-haired gentleman seemed a good-natured man. Lucy liked him.
“It helps to have an excellent partner of your caliber, Edward,” Mr. Nash observed. “But one rarely plays with one’s spouse. It really isn’t the done thing.”
Edward laughed and slapped him on the back, calling him a sore loser.
But Lucy sensed Mr. Nash regarded women as inferior, and as she was his partner, the suggestion hovered in the room that she’d somehow failed him. She wasn’t sure how. She thought she’d played well enough. Papa had taught her to play the game years ago.
As Jane had suggested, when the evening drew to a close, Mr. Nash invited Lucy to ride with him the next day in his carriage to Hyde Park. Tempted to refuse but unwilling to disappoint Jane, she accepted. Perhaps she’d been hasty in her opinion of Mr. Nash. He suffered in comparison to Lord Dorchester, as any man would. She urged herself to forget the earl, for hoping to see him again was foolish. And she must keep her head. She could not afford to yearn for the unattainable.
When she rose the next morning, she readThe Morning ChronicleandThe Timesat breakfast, searching for an announcement of the earl’s coming wedding, but she failed to find it.
Her aunt observed her over the table. “I hope you’re not a bluestocking, niece,” she said with a sigh. After Lucy had mentioned she thought Mr. Nash very young, the notion that she might prove difficult to launch hung in the air.
“Heavens, no, Aunt. I like to read about who among thetonis getting married. London Society is so much more exciting than one finds most of the time in Bath.” She thought of partnering with old Mr. Crabbshore in a country dance when he’d clacked his teeth while they’d danced and almost shivered at the thought of going back there.
“Indeed. I am pleased you are finding it so.” Slightly mollified, her aunt reached for the butter.
Mr. Nash arrived punctually at five o’clock. He assisted Lucy up onto the seat of a high-perch phaeton and settled in themaid, Maisie, whose eyes were like saucers. “My, this is a most impressive vehicle,” Lucy said, as they careered around a corner. She could hear Maisie moan in fear and felt a little nervous herself as she looked down at the cobbles, which seemed a fearful distance away.
Having managed to round the corner safely, Mr. Nash stood and cracked the whip, and the horses took off at a canter along the road as she clung on. “It’s up to the mark,” he said, turning to her with a pleased smile.
Once again, Mr. Nash’s collar sat high under his chin, with an intricately knotted cravat and a frilly shirt front. The smell of pomade wafted over to her when he slapped the reins. He wore a bright-blue coat and yellow pantaloons with highly polished top boots. A spotted yellow-and-white handkerchief fluttered from his pocket. Lucy realized she was in the presence of a pink of theton. She had heard of them but had never seen one in Bath.
The carriage reached the park, and they entered the South Carriage Drive. As Mr. Nash drove along the crowded thoroughfare, a gentleman riding down Rotten Row hailed him. As Mr. Nash called out to him, Lucy watched the splendid horses dancing along and failed to notice the glossy, black landau approaching until it was almost beside them. The gentleman touched the brim of his hat. Seated beside him was a young woman and her maid. In a flowery bonnet, the woman stared with interest at Lucy. She was very beautiful with a delicate, sensitive face. Lucy’s chest tightened and she fiddled with her gloves.
“My lord.” Mr. Nash bowed from the waist, which proved difficult while keeping his horses in check.
“Nash.” The earl nodded, whip poised to move his fine thoroughbreds on.
“The Earl of Dorchester. An army man, and a known Corinthian,” Mr. Nash said, his voice taking on an importantnote after the earl’s carriage had moved away. “I wasn’t aware he knew me. But word gets around, especially since I’ve joined White’s Club.”
“What is a Corinthian?” Lucy asked, gazing after them.
“You don’t know?” Mr. Nash laughed. “I see I shall have to educate you in these matters. A Corinthian is a man about Town and a fine sportsman. I’ve seen Dorchester box at Jackson’s and fence at Angelo’s Fencing academy. He’s a fine shot at Manton’s too.”
Lucy wondered if Mr. Nash followed the earl about. “Who was his companion?” She tried to resist craning her neck as the landau drew farther away.
“Lord Dorchester’s betrothed, I imagine, Miss Isabel Ashton. We’ve not yet met. I doubt she often comes to London.”
Lord Dorchester had looked imposing in the multi-caped greatcoat and tall beaver hat. His startlingly blue eyes had rested on her for the briefest moment. He’d nodded his head to acknowledge her, before moving on. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, like the waters of the Mediterranean, at least as far as she remembered from a painting.
“I suppose we will hear news of his wedding soon enough,” Mr. Nash mused. “A grand affair, most likely held at St. George’s. The guests will number in the hundreds. It would be good to be seen there. I wonder if it might be possible? Perhaps I know someone…” He lapsed into contemplation.
He drove Lucy home, leaving her to her own thoughts.
*
With Miss Ashtonand her maid seated beside him, Hugh guided the horses through the park gates and turned into Park Lane. It frustrated him to see Miss Kershaw riding with Nash, when he knew he was unworthy of her, though it was hardly any ofhis business. Hugh glanced at his betrothed’s profile. She looked troubled. “You should have sent me some warning. I would have accepted a few suitable affairs, not Almack’s or balls, of course, until you are out, but there are picnics and dinner parties and whatnot. London is busy with many interesting venues now the war is over.”
“Mama keeps me busy calling on her friends. I suppose I am out.” Her face pale beneath the bonnet, she turned to him, her hazel eyes anxious. “I wanted to see you.”
