Page 49 of A Symphony for the Earl

“Why would she wish to damage my reputation? I’ve barely met the woman.”

“Don’t you know?” He raised his eyebrows. “You are a lovely girl in the first bloom of youth, while her beauty is fading. And you have a secure position in the household of a man she has never stopped admiring.”

“What happened between them?”

“It is not my place to say,” he said. “As it is, your guardian will have my hide. And do not expect me to challenge him to a duel when he scolds you. He is much too good with a pistol.”

“Of course, he is.” She could not keep the annoyance from her voice. “Is there nothing Lord Richard cannot do? If only he had a squint—just a small one, mind you—or a mole on his nose, I could tolerate him far better.”

Sir William’s shoulders shook. “You don’t need to point out his perfection to me. He sets impossibly high standards for the men in this city. Perhaps if he developed a limp…or a particularly musty smell…”

It was her turn to chuckle. “A sudden tic or flatulence—”

“Or became heavy-handed with the reins—”

“I suppose he is a good boxer as well?”

“Quite deadly,” Sir William complained. “Denys Spencer might best him occasionally; he’s extraordinarily fast and has excellent footwork. But only on a good day. If the earl lands the first punch, few recover. But Richard’s pursuit of perfection comes at a high price. I’m quite content with mediocrity. You see that even Lady Cowper considers me harmless.”

“As if you were mediocre in any way, Sir William.”

“But can I trust the opinion of one so new to London?”

After their laughter subsided, Fiona tried to glean more information about Richard and Eleanor Davenport. “Sir William, you know I cannot let the matter of Mrs. Davenport rest. I think it’s only fair that I understand her dislike.”

He sighed. Sir William Denton would most certainly be a perfect match, for he was amusing and easily managed.

“I don’t know if Lord Seldon ever intended marriage, but they kept company for more than a year. There are rumors that she had a dalliance with Fellingham, and the earl immediately ended the relationship. They’ve been cordial since, but it’s common knowledge that she still holds a tendre in that direction.”

“That explains his aversion to the marquis.”

“Fellingham is a rather unsavory character. Most are polite due to his rank, but he has few friends.”

When Sir William turned left toward Serpentine Bridge, Fiona looked over at him in surprise.

“Shouldn’t we return to face the consequences of our ride?”

“No, we should not,” he answered. “To turn tail and slink home would only admit guilt. You started this wild prank, and now we must see it through, heads held high.”

She swallowed hard.

“Act as though nothing is amiss, Miss Rafferty. Perhaps we will emerge bruised but not broken.” He spurred his horse into a sedate canter, his posture straight and confident.

She touched Della’s sides with her heel, and the mare fell in behind Sir William’s gelding.

When Sir William deposited her at the Merrick House stable courtyard, Fiona caught Cedric’s disapproving expression and flushed guiltily. Peter took her horse with a subdued air, no doubt reprimanded for her rash behavior.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she handed over the reins. The young groom refused to meet her gaze. She thanked Cedric, who looked past her stonily, and walked toward the house, deeply mortified.

The reckless determination to prove her independence had a far greater impact than she had considered. Sir William had been drawn into the circle of disapproval that surrounded her, and now the servants. It would surely affect Lady Amelia and Valentina as well.

She hoped to enter through the door at the back of the house and avoid meeting anyone, but Hansen was there to greet her in his stiffest manner. No doubt word of her behavior had reached the household. Fiona straightened her shoulders; she dreaded facing Lady Amelia, but there was no sense in delaying the inevitable.

“Good afternoon, Hansen. Where might I find Lady Amelia?”

“She is in the front drawing room reading with Miss Valentina, Miss Fiona.” He took her hat, gloves, and riding crop.

The late afternoon sun poured into the tall windows of the large drawing room, illuminating Lady Amelia’s halo of blonde curls as she dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes, a magazine open on her lap. Valentina lay dozing upon a stack of pillows on the pale-blue striped sofa, covered with a chintz blanket.