Better than any of them, if one took her fortune into consideration, which his father certainly had. The Windham earldom was a wealthy one, but no amount of money had ever been enough for his father, and Lord Tremblay’s land bordered the Windham country property in Oxfordshire.
Joining the Windham and the Tremblay names would mark the beginning of the empire his father had always dreamed about. There was a great deal of money to be made if he and Lady Laetitia wed—enough money that a match between them was as good as decided, despite his indifference toward her.
Thetonexpected it, and they must appease theton, or die.
“Lord Windham? Yoo-hoo, Lord Windham?” Lady Laetitia beckoned to him with an imperious wave of her hand. “A word, if you’d be so kind?”
“Go on, Windham.” Hayward gave him a none-too-gentle push toward the carriage. “And attempt a smile, would you? Itwon’t do to look as if you’re approaching the gibbet when you speak to your future bride.”
“At least a man can have some peace after a visit to the gibbet.” But he did as he was told and straightened from the railing, pasting a smile on his face as he walked toward the carriage. “Lady Laetitia. Have I told you how lovely you look this afternoon?”
“No, you have not, my lord. Why, you’ve hardly spoken a dozen words to me since we arrived.” Lady Laetitia’s cool blue gaze ran over him, lingering on his limp cravat. “But I’ll consider forgiving you for your rudeness if you fetch us three more pineapple ices.”
More pineapple? Good Lord, but he was being punished for his sins today. “Of course, my lady. I’ll find a waiter?—”
“Oh no, that won’t do. The waiter is taking an age in this crush, and Lady Caroline, Lady Beatrice and I are dreadfully parched. You’ll go yourself, won’t you?” She held out her empty silver cup, a sweet smile on her lips, but beneath the brim of her bonnet her eyes were narrowed.
Lady Laetitia was displeased. It was not, alas, an uncommon occurrence.
“I’m delighted to serve you, as always, my lady. Lady Caroline, and Lady Beatrice.” He offered them each a bow, then took the sticky cups, loaded them on the tray and made his way across the square, dodging the tangle of carriages, with Hayward smirking after him.
“Lord Windham.” One of the waiters darted toward him, his eyes widening when he noticed the tray in Cass’s hand. “I beg your pardon, my lord. I didn’t see?—”
“Never mind, George. I needed the walk.” He handed the harried man the tray with a wink. “Three more pineapple ices, and George?”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Take your time.”
George grinned. “Yes, my lord.”
“Good man.”
The tea shop was as crowded inside as it was in the square, the tables teeming with elegant ladies and throngs of their gentlemen admirers lounging about, but he commandeered a coveted space near the door, a bit away from the suffocating press of bodies.
Hewasthe Earl of Windham, after all.
A fresh spring breeze scented faintly with lilac reached him where he stood, cooling the perspiration on his forehead and chasing some of the thickest of the cobwebs from his mind. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed, lowering inch by inch until the bottle-green superfine of his collar was no longer touching his earlobes.
Yes, that was better. It would do until he could escape to his townhouse in Mount Street.
He took another deep breath and let the lilac scent wash over him, filling his head and his chest with sweetness. With each breath the tea shop noise faded, and for a moment, just a moment, he let his eyes drop closed and permitted himself to imagine he was somewhere else.
Filtered sunlight, branches swaying over his head, and the soft buzz of dragonfly wings circling a still pond, laughter floating into the blue sky above the tree, and the sweet scent of meadow grasses. It was strange how well he could recall it, strange that the memory never faded in his mind?—
“Your pineapple ices, Lord Windham.”
The fantasy evaporated in a clatter of dishes and hurried footsteps, and he opened his eyes to find George standing in front of him, a silver tray with three silver dishes atop it balanced on his hand.
“Thank you, George.” He took the tray with a sigh and stepped out into Berkeley Square, but he was obliged to wait while a parade of carriages made their way past the door, each one more fashionable than the last, with brass fittings and lacquered paint gleaming in the sunlight.
There was no shortage of fine equipages in Berkeley Square. Thetondelighted in showing off their elegant taste, and he’d seen similar parades so many times he wouldn’t have paid these carriages much attention at all, but at the end of the procession was avis-à-visphaeton painted a distinctive deep violet color, so dark it was nearly black, with silver-accented wheels and sumptuous pale gray velvet seats.
It was already past him when he noticed it, but he didn’t need to see the crest emblazoned on the door to know whose carriage it was. Lady Patience Fosberry, one of the undeniable queens of London society was back in Town, and she’d come out to Berkeley Square today to make certain everyone knew it.
She wasn’t alone. Three young ladies were in the carriage with her, the ends of the brightly colored silk ribbons trimming their bonnets fluttering in the breeze. The carriage passed too quickly for him to see their faces, but he did catch a glimpse of golden curls peeking out from under the wide straw brims.
The barouche circled a few times until it found a shady spot on the other side of the square only a few paces away from Lady Laetitia’s carriage. He followed in its wake, dodging people and horses as he went and by some miracle holding onto the tray with the melting ices atop it, the sour smell of pineapple making his nose twitch with revulsion.
