Cass merely grunted, but Hayward wasn’t deterred. “Tell me, which of the Parrish sisters has taken your fancy?”
“None of them,” Cass lied, turning away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any interest in any of them.”
“Of course, you do. You’re a dreadful liar, Windham. There isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t notice the Parrish sisters. I’m rather partial to Sarah Parrish, myself. Odd, really, as I don’t recall her being a particularly promising child when I visited Melrose in Kent, but she was quite young at the time.” Hayward cocked his head, studying her. “Lovely girl, and a bit saucy, I think. I do like a lady of spirit.”
“She was sickly as a child and was kept mostly indoors, apart from any excitement.” Hattie had confided in one of her letters that for years the family had lived in fear they’d lose Sarah. “She suffered from weak lungs.”
Hayward’s eyebrows shot up. “Indeed? She appears perfectly sturdy now. But tell me, how do you happen to know so much about the Parrish family?”
Damn it. “I don’t…I never said I…I suppose I must have heard it somewhere.”
“I see. Is that all? Because you behaved rather oddly when we met them at Gunter’s yesterday. No one would ever accuse you of being charming, Windham, but I’ve never known your manners to fail so thoroughly as they did yesterday.”
He couldn’t deny it. He’d behaved abominably, and one could never get away with ungentlemanly behavior around Hayward. “I didn’t?—”
“Never mind, Windham.” Hayward waved a hand. “Keep your secrets, if you must.”
Just then, Sarah threw her head back in a tinkling laugh at something Lady Fosberry had said, and several people turned to smile at her as the sweet sound echoed in the clear morning air.
“Nothing wrong with her lungs now,” Hayward remarked. “Very pretty, indeed. Perhaps I’ll invite her to accompany me on the lilac walk. Shall we go and greet them?”
It wasn’t a good idea. God only knew what he’d blurt out as soon as he opened his mouth. He’d learned to be careful with people once he’d inherited his title, but he had no defenses against Hattie.
How could he? She knew him too well for that, better even than he knew himself.
“Not me, thank you.” Lady Laetitia had been staring at him since the Parrish sisters arrived, her chilly blue gaze like an artic blast against the side of his face. “You go on, Hayward.”
He nudged Hayward toward the bright little trio then turned his back on them, instead making his way across the lawn toward Laetitia, but he couldn’t banish Hattie from his mind as easily as he banished her from his sight.
What was shedoinghere? He’d asked her a dozen times yesterday, but she’d never given him a satisfactory answer to that question. She claimed they’d come for the Horticultural Society’s lectures, to hear Sir Joseph Banks, but as interested as Hattie was in plants and flowers, the lectures were hardly enough to lure her to London.
Especially during the season.
What could possibly have induced her to come here, then? And where the devil were Lord and Lady Melrose? Had theirbrother truly sent his sisters to London unaccompanied, as Hattie claimed?
It didn’t seem likely. Johnathan Parrish was wildly protective of his younger sisters, yet here they were, at the mercy of every fortune hunter and scoundrel in Town for the season, and Melrose nowhere to be found.
Damn it, none of this made any sense.
If Hattie intended to remain for the entirety of the season, he was certain to encounter her at every social event thehaute tonhad to offer. Lord Melrose was a well-respected gentleman, admired by all. No one would dream of offending him by slighting his sisters, and they were Lady Fosberry’s guests, as well. Her ladyship knew everyone and was invited everywhere.
“Windham, here you are at last.” Lady Tremblay, Laetitia’s mother laid a proprietary hand on his arm as he joined their company. “Not a moment too soon, too. We’re panting for some lemonade, aren’t we, Laetitia?”
Laetitia didn’t reply, nor did she offer him so much as a good morning, but nodded toward the Parrish sisters, her blue eyes narrowed. “Aren’t those the same ladies we saw at Gunter’s yesterday?”
Cass ignored the question, offering her a bow instead. “Good morning, Laetitia. Will you have lemonade or tea?”
But Laetitia would not be put off so easily. “Yes, I’m sure that’s them. How curious, that they should have turned up again. I never laid eyes on them before yesterday. Who are they, Windham?”
“Nobody, by the looks of them.” Lady Tremblay gave a disdainful sniff. “My dear Laetitia, their gowns! They have a whiff of the country about them. Why, they look as if they’ve just stumbled into London from some tragically dusty corner of Cumbria, or some other similarly dreadful place.”
“They’re with Lady Fosberry, mamma. They must besomebody. Windham?” Laetitia’s tone was courteous enough, but a layer of ice lurked underneath her practiced charm.
There would be no keeping this secret. If he didn’t tell them, someone else would. “Lady Margaret, Hat—er, Lady Harriet, and Lady Sarah Parrish. They’re Lord?—”
“Lord Melrose’s sisters,” Laetitia finished with a sidelong glance at her mother. “Yes, I remember Lord Melrose. He was the nonesuch some decade or so ago, I believe. But how wonderful the Parrish family has found their way back to London! Isn’t it wonderful, mamma?”
Lady Tremblay did not appear to find it wonderful at all. If her glower had had the power to set fire, the Parrish sisters would promptly have burst into flames. “I don’t see Lord Melrose anywhere about.”
