No woman wanted a man who couldn’t be independent. No composer who wanted to set the world on fire could lack a backbone. Seeing Georgina and this ruse through was a sort of training process. I had to succeed and claim a future that I made with my own hands.
Chapter 19
GEORGINA—A RIDE IN THEPUBLIC
Covering for my sister Scarlett’s sudden disappearance—she’d had Mr. Thom drive her to some lecture—I insisted we take Lydia with us to our first public appearance in Hyde Park.
We wouldn’t have to pay for someone to watch her, and Katherine and I could keep our eyes on her.
Last night was a bad one for the little girl as she sweated and coughed until the sun began to rise. Her fever broke this morning.
By noon, she was sore but determined to go see her duke. Who could stop the recovered ball of energy?
Our little Lydia seemed overjoyed to see him, hugging his legs like he’d disappear. In this grand carriage, she sat between the duke and Katherine and wore a blue bonnet on her sleek dark hair, nestled in a thick coat to keep her warm. The spring chill commanded the morning.
The little girl looked so happy and leaned on him. He didn’t seem to mind. The man rallied in her attention, or was it because the connection annoyed Katherine?
“Smile, Lady Hampton,” the duke said. “You seem uncomfortable, as if you’ve been forced into my carriage.”
“It’s an open landau, Your Grace. Everyone can see.”
“That’s the point, dorogaya. That tawdry artist Gilroy has been in my home and chosen to make a mockery of an adorable couple. A potential love like this shouldn’t be denigrated. It must be celebrated.”
Adorable? A tall Meg and a shy, stocky composer? Maybe. I wanted to sayfake couple, but I understood his point.
Lydia climbed onto his lap. “There’s Lord Mark.”
The little girl waved. Her antics placed her all over the duke, knocking off his hat, exposing his curled, onyx hair.
“Lydia, get off him.” I tried to coax her to be calm, but she wrapped her arms about his neck. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Nyet, my lovely dear.” His arms enfolded about her and he chuckled. “Ah. Happy . . . warm, little one. Are you well?”
“Oh, yes, My Grace. Mine.” She shot a petulant pout to me, and then Katherine. “All better now that I’m with you.”
He made her settle, like a doting big brother. “No map adventure in my library, my little one, if you don’t mind Miss Wilcox or Lady Hampton. And we must have our map time, my newest dorogaya . . . mine.”
Katherine’s cheeks darkened, and I was confident that “dorogaya” wasn’t an insult but something loving like “sweetheart.” Had the duke been openly praising my sister all this time?
“Princess hour. Princess hour.” Lydia winced as she rubbed her hands together. “I’ll be good.”
Katherine glanced the other way. Suddenly, the Serpentine, the big lake in the park, was of more interest.
My gaze swiveled back to my approaching music teacher. Strong steps in dusty boots, loose cravat, carrying a satchel surely brimming with organized papers, he walked with zeal, even pride, to come to us, a carriage full of people of color.
As he came closer, I saw his handsome face, his focused dark blue eyes, which appeared intense and lovely, and the laugh lines that led to big dimples. If I were vain and armed with this newly discovered appreciation of a casual, confident man of the arts, I think I could agree with the labeladorable fake couple.
Lord Mark tipped his hat, then climbed into the carriage and sat next to me. “Fine morning.”
Lydia doffed the duke’s hat. He laughed and signaled for his driver to begin.
My music teacher drew from his bag a gold tube and held it close to his wide chest as if it were his treasured sheet music. “I’ve brought my trusty pocket scope to hopefully see some birds. How are you, Miss Wilcox?”
“Fine,” Lydia and I said at the same time.
“Ah, Miss Lydia Wilcox. I meant to address your sister, but I’m glad you are well.”
“Yes. No more coughing. I’m feeling fine.”
