“That’s because I am,” Sybil argued.
“Girls, that’s enough,” Louisa said, trying to hold on to what little patience she had. “Saint stays. If you are not happy with that, both of you can stay, too.”
The girls didn’t say anything else. “Look, Your Grace,” Louisa said. “Mrs. Woolwythe is standing in the doorway. Take him to her.”
Without wasting any time, the duke scooped up Saint, strode to the front door, and deposited him into the housekeeper’s arms. He then returned to the chaise, jumped up to the seat, and squeezed in beside Louisa. She immediately felt the warmth of his leg. As he picked up the ribbons, his arm lightly brushed against her breast and sent shooting tendrils of desire rushing throughout her body.
The duke heaved a heavy sigh and asked, “Is everyone seated and holding on to something or someone?”
“Yes!” Sybil shouted a toe-curling screech right into the duke’s ear.
Louisa saw him flinch. Suddenly she couldn’t see this ride in the park ending on a good note.
Chapter 19
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience.
—Hamlet,act 3, scene 4
The girls talked nonstop as the chaise rumbled along the streets. They pointed at horses, other carriages, the occasional mule and cart, and various shops. Bray was beginning to think they’d never been on an open carriage ride before. He had never seen anything like it. Everything they passed excited them, and they wanted to make sure everyone else saw it, too.
There was a comfortable chill to the sunny spring air, and the sky was a fair shade of blue. It was a perfect afternoon for a ride in the park with a beautiful young lady fitted close to his side—and three highly strung youngsters stuffed into a too-small carriage with them as well.
Miss Sybil was like a squirming worm baking in the hot sun on a muddy riverbank. She couldn’t sit still on Miss Prim’s lap. Miss Sybil was constantly jumping up to point at something, and Miss Prim would pull her back down. If she stepped on the toe of his shiny boot once, she had done it ten times. And he had no idea why she couldn’t keep her hands still. She knocked his hat off while pointing to a milk wagon loaded with containers, and twice she’d elbowed him while turning to talk to her sisters. She even placed her hand on his knee a time or two, not that at her age she understood how inappropriate the gesture was.
Miss Lillian was having trouble containing Miss Bonnie’s excitement, too. He could never have dreamed that little girls wriggled so much.
The only good thing about the lively jaunt was that Miss Prim fit snugly against him, though there was no chance at conversation between them. He felt the warmth of her inviting body. That helped soothe his impatience concerning the constant chatter and movement of the girls.
The mild weather had brought out an enormous number of people to Hyde Park for the afternoon. Bray maneuvered the horses in line behind a fancy, black-lacquered barouche trimmed in gold that was queuing at the east entrance to the park.
“Is there a princess in that coach, Your Grace?” Miss Bonnie asked.
“Probably not,” Bray answered.
“May I hold the ribbons?” Miss Sybil asked him, and immediately reached for the strips of leather.
Bray quickly shifted them to the hand out of her reach before saying, “The horses are much too skittish for a young lady like yourself to handle. I should keep control of them.”
“I’m strong. Louisa said I was strong.”
Obviously Miss Sybil liked to touch things. “No doubt you are, but you will keep your hands to yourself, and I will keep control of the horses.”
“I’m hungry and thirsty,” the youngest girl said.
“Now, Bonnie,” Miss Prim said. “You can’t start complaining. You wanted to come, knowing there was no time to pack a basket.”
“What’s that for?” Miss Sybil asked, pointing to the horses’ riggings.
Frustration caused Bray to grit his teeth, and he inhaled another deep breath, wishing for quiet. “That’s what holds the horses to the carriage,” he said in a voice much calmer than he was feeling at the moment.
“What’s that for?” she asked, pointing to the riggings again.
“That’s enough questions, Sybil,” Miss Prim said kindly. “And please sit still.”
Bray gave Miss Prim a hint of a smile. He didn’t know how she stayed so calm when he was going crazy. Somehow she must have known he was near the end of his patience with all the noise, jumping around, and questions. He would much rather shoot himself in the foot than be on a chaise with three excitable girls ever again.
