“Yes, all right.” Lucy was quiet for the rest of the drive, but by the time they reached Bond Street she’d recovered her spirits. When Ciaran leapt from the carriage and offered his hand to help her down, she took it with a genuine smile.
“Ah, that’s better, lass.” Ciaran drew her arm through his and led her toward the walkway in front of Hookham’s Library, where the rest of their party was waiting for them.
“My goodness. Where did all these people come from?” Lucy’s fingers tightened on Ciaran’s coat sleeve as she gaped at the crowds of people bustling up and down Bond Street. “Why, it’s like being in the midst of a swarm of very fashionable bees.”
“They come from every corner of the city.” Vale had somehow managed to coax Eloisa Jarvis to take his arm, and he was looking mightily pleased by it. “Fashionable London haunts Bond Street during the season. The ladies come in search of their corsets and tippets at Madame Devy’s, and the gentlemen come to lounge and gawk at the ladies.”
Miss Jarvis let out a faint gasp of outrage and turned a frowning countenance on Vale. “I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head, Lord Vale.”
“What did I say?” Vale gave her an innocent look, but his lips were twitching.
“Hush, Sebastian!” Lady Felicia glared at her brother. “Corsets, indeed. You’re scandalizing Miss Jarvis. You forget not everyone is accustomed to your wild ways.”
“Have I offended you, Miss Jarvis?” Vale captured Eloisa Jarvis’s hand in his and raised it to his lips. “I beg your pardon.”
Miss Jarvis gazed up at him, seemingly spellbound, but when his grin widened she snatched her hand away before his lips could touch her glove. Lord Vale laughed when her cheeks flushed pink, but his gaze lingered on her face.
“He admires her,” Lucy murmured to Ciaran. She bit her lip as she watched the scene unfold, as if she were trying to decide whether to be pleased or worried. “I’m not sure I like it. Lord Vale may be a bit much for Eloisa, but one can’t deny there’s a lovely symmetry about the two of them together.”
“Symmetry?” Ciaran snorted. “Your cousin’s a high-stickler, and Vale’s a scoundrel. What’s lovely about that?”
Lucy looked up at him in surprise. “Why, everything, of course. You don’t want a stickler with another stickler, or a scoundrel with another scoundrel. Surely you can see they balance each other out? In any case, Lord Vale’s notreallya scoundrel. He’s quite gentlemanly when he chooses to be.”
As if determined to prove Lucy wrong, Vale spoke up again. “What’s so scandalous about corsets? I don’t know why you’re so offended, Felicia. I didn’t say a word about the other sort of gentlemen who come to Bond Street later in the afternoons to—”
“Sebastian!” That was the outside of enough for Lady Felicia, who tugged Vale to a halt in the middle of the walkway to give him a proper scold. “Never mind what wickedness the other sort of gentlemen get up to in Bond Street. Honestly, you’re the most dreadful tease—”
“Lady Felicia? I thought that was you! What luck!”
They all turned at once at the low, smooth voice to find Lord Nash bearing down on them, wearing a grin that stretched from one ear to the other.
“Lord Nash. I—I didn’t see you there.” Lady Felicia colored a bit as she greeted the tall, handsome earl with a smile. “How do you do?”
Lord Markham was walking a few paces ahead of the rest of the party, but he came to an abrupt halt when Lord Nash appeared. His brows rose in surprise, then lowered again in a scowl when Nash offered Lady Felicia his arm.
“Much better, now.” Lord Nash’s admiring gaze lingered on Lady Felicia. “I’ve just been round to Park Lane to call on you. I was disappointed to find you not at home, but here you are.”
Markham scowled as his gaze fell to Lady Felicia’s hand resting on Lord Nash’s arm. There wasn’t much he could do aside from stand by and watch as Lord Nash led Lady Felicia down Bond Street, both of them chatting and laughing, and Nash carefully shielding Lady Felicia from the more rambunctious gentlemen crowding the walkway.
Lucy let out a quiet laugh. “Oh, that’s perfect.”
Her husky chuckle made Ciaran glance down at her. She looked so delighted Ciaran’s own lips curved in a grin. “What’s so amusing? You’re not laughing at poor Markham, are you?”
“No, certainly not.” Lucy gave him an impish smile. “I’m simply memorizing his scowl so I can describe it in detail to Lady Felicia later.”
Ciaran glanced at Markham. He’d dropped a few paces behind Lord Nash and Lady Felicia. He was a stern-looking fellow at the best of times, but Ciaran had never before seen him look so grim. He marched along behind them, glowering at Lord Nash’s back.
“Lady Felicia danced twice with Lord Nash at Lady Ivey’s ball, you know,” Lucy murmured. “She told me afterward she thought him perfectly charming. Those were the exact words she used. Poor Lord Markham! He’s not as indifferent to her as he thinks he is.”
Markham certainly didn’t look pleased, but jealous? Markham was too oblivious to be jealous. “He’s just protective of her. They’ve known each other since they were children.”
“Nonsense,” Lucy said stoutly. “That’s not protectiveness, Ciaran. It’s jealousy. Heavens, Bond Street is certainly entertaining, isn’t it? We’ll have to come here again. It’s better than the theater.”
Ciaran laughed. “How do you know? Have you even been to the theater yet?”
“No, but real life is always more amusing than a play. Don’t you think so?”
Ciaran opened his mouth to say no, but the truth was, hewasamused. He’d been wearing the same ridiculous grin on his lips since they’d left Portman Square. No doubt that made him a damned fool, but he’d rather be foolish than miserable. “I didn’t used to, no.”
