“Laura, my dear, Lord Hastings may not wish — that is —”
“You were about to say that there might not be enough room for three in my curricle, were you not, ma’am?” Lord Hastings interposed, coming to his embarrassed hostess’ rescue, “but if Aubrey does not object to being a trifle squashed between us, the Tower sounds like a splendid objective for this afternoon.”
Annabelle knew that her daughter’s pretty expression of gratitude did not equal the warmth of her own thanks to Lord Hastings, and she sighed inwardly as she turned the conversation to other matters during the rest of the short call. Laura participated with cool good sense, displaying none of that subtle awareness that generally distinguished the manner of a marriageable young woman who realises that she has been singled out by an attractive man.
It was beyond question that Laura lacked her cousin’s instinctive awareness of the romantic possibilities ever present in the reactions of persons of the opposite sex to each other inordinary social intercourse. Sophia, however, was female to her fingertips while Laura’s interests, and perhaps even the way her mind worked, were closer to those of the stronger sex. Having said all that, Annabelle could still only speculate on whether her daughter sensed that Lord Hastings might have made the initial move in a campaign to fix his interest with her. In this delicate early stage of attraction matters could go either way on a personal level without much emotional damage to the parties involved. On a worldly level it would be an unequal match, and there was frequently more than the feelings of two young people at stake in such situations. It would be unwise to raise Laura’s hopes at this point even if she’d shown some partiality for Lord Hastings, which, her observant parent reluctantly conceded, was not the case. On the other hand, what mother would choose to stand by while her unconscious offspring whistled a matrimonial prize down the wind? But that was true only if said offspring agreed with the designation, of course. Patience and distance must be her role at present, Annabelle decided, but not without some qualms and self-doubt.
When their visitor took his leave after settling on a time for the outing, Annabelle confined her remonstrations to her daughter, for the poor manners she’d displayed in presuming a gentleman’s invitation to her might be interpreted to include another person.
“I know it was very forward of me, Mama,” Laura agreed with a deplorable want of penitence, “but I have been trying to figure a way to bring Aubrey to the Tower, and Lord Hastings’ offer seemed heaven sent. It is only an hour or two of his life, after all, and he seems a good-natured soul,” she added airily, leaving her parent uncomforted and bereft of words that could begin to address the larger issue of Laura’s seeming unawareness of what her London stay might mean for her future.
A beaming Aubrey nearly tripped over his feet in his eagerness to get outside where Lord Hastings’ curricle waited at the curb. By the time the adults proceeding at a more leisurely pace reached the vehicle, he was engaged in conversation with Huckston, at the heads of a pair of greys who seemed to share the boy’s high spirits.
“Oh, sir, such magnificent horses with those deep chests, and so well matched!” Aubrey turned a sparkling countenance on Lord Hastings, who had strolled up to the engrossed pair.
“I see you have an eye for horseflesh, lad. Yes, they are a prime pair, not your pretty high-steppers fit only to pull a lady’s barouche in the park.”
Laura stood quietly to one side, a little smile on her lips as she listened to the two men discuss the horses’ points with the young boy with a heartwarming absence of condescension.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Marsh,” Lord Hastings said, catching her eye, “for keeping you standing while the menfolk croon over the horses like mothers over infants.”
“Not at all, sir. I have been listening and, hopefully, learning.”
“Shall we try their paces, Aubrey? If you will climb up first I’ll assist your cousin.”
As Aubrey scrambled up into the curricle, Lord Hastings extended his hand to Laura with a smile whose potency brought her eyes down in confusion. She concentrated fiercely on lifting her teal blue skirts and watching the precise placement of her kid half-boots as she ascended to the seat and settled in, with uncharacteristic care for the drape of her skirt. Meanwhile, Lord Hastings had jumped up and taken the reins from his groom, assuring Huckston that he anticipated no difficulty in finding someone to mind the horses while they toured the Tower.
“Make yourself small, young Aubrey,” he ordered, planting himself firmly on the larger portion of the bench and letting the impatient horses go.
Laura angled her left shoulder toward Lord Hastings so she could put her right arm around Aubrey and bring him closer to her, eaving the driver more room for his arms. He spared her a quick glance of approval before returning his attention to his mettlesome pair. His “They are still pretty fresh,” was the only remark from driver or passengers during the next few minutes, as he concentrated on guiding the greys smoothly through residential streets crowded with vehicular and pedestrian traffic.
As they turned into Fleet Street and stepped up the pace, Lord Hastings glanced down at the boy beside him with a smile. “Now you’ll see what sweet goers the greys are once they’ve done objecting to everything else on the roadway.”
“It was a real treat to watch the way you bring them under control without even using the whip, sir,” Aubrey enthused.
Lord Hastings’ smiling eyes met Laura’s briefly over the boy’s head. “I am generally accorded a fair whip,” he said without false modesty, “but your cousin will scarcely credit that, since our first meeting came about because of some bad driving on my part that resulted in an accident.”
“Weather conditions were dreadful that night,” Laura replied to her cousin’s inquiring look. “In any case it is quite plain that Aubrey and I have no cause to fear for our safety in your hands, sir.” She glanced about her with interest. “Where are we exactly? I don’t believe I have ever been this far in an easterly direction since coming to London.”
“We are coming into Leadenhall Street now. I am told that some of the best fabric warehouses have their premises along this hill, and that shop we’re passing at the moment is one of the premier jewellers, Rundell and Bridge. Have you been to St. Paul’s yet, Miss Marsh?”
“Regrettably, no.”
“Then, if Aubrey does not object to a slight detour, I’ll drive around the cathedral plaza so you may feast your eyes on its splendour.”
A blushing Aubrey hastened to deny any objections and Laura, her face radiant, thanked the driver. “You are very kind.”
Laura’s eyes grew huge as Wren’s masterwork came into view, dwarfing everything else in its vicinity. She let out a breathless, “Oh my!” and lapsed into reverent silence, transfixed by the magnificent dome of the cathedral.
“I believe only St. Peter’s in Rome is larger,” Lord Hastings said, following her glance.
He and the ever-surprising Aubrey began to compare dimensions, a conversation that Laura scarcely took in, so intent was her visual concentration at the time. It wasn’t until the curricle had encircled the cathedral’s plaza and proceeded on its way east once more that she returned her attention to her companions. “Thank you, sir. I am so happy to have had the opportunity to see St. Paul’s.”
“We’ll save the interior for another day,” he promised.
Laura permitted herself a half-smile in acknowledgment, though whether at his kindness or presumption she’d have been hard pressed to say.
“Did you know that for a small sum you may go up into the highest gallery, where you can see the inner and the outer dome? The view is said to be very fine, but there are more than five hundred steps, and Papa refused to let me undertake the climb.” Aubrey’s voice and face were regretfulness personified. “Have you ever done that, sir?”
