Chapter 12
Cart resisted the urge to fan his heated face or remove his overcoat. He’d never understood the need for ladies to carry hand fans with them at all times, but the insufferable afternoon heat was enough to have him hoping that a fashion trend started, allowing gentlemen to tote them, as well.
Not a breeze moved through the trees as the sun beat down on him.
Unlike the garden party, where gusts of wind had rolled across the open areas lifting the pockets of muggy air above the crowd, no such weather pattern was evident today.
Cart moved between the hordes of finely dressed women with elaborate headpieces and men dressed as if they were peacocks with their feathers on display.
The scene before him was shockingly absurd.
The sheer amount of fabric adorning the thousands of ton members milling about on foot, on horseback, or in carriages, would take several large merchant ships to import.
He’d dedicated his time and energy to antiquities, but the far safer—and more lucrative—venture may very well be imports.
Textiles in particular. The utter vanity Cart witnessed made him question his desire to be a part of it all.
By birth, he was an earl, one of London’s elite, but by nature, he would not allow that to define him and his future.
The crowd surrounding him moved at a snail’s pace, no one being in any hurry.
His mother had spoken of the benefits of daily walks in Hyde Park, gaining a turn of exercise, but not a single person moved fast enough to increase their heart rhythm.
In fact, many stood slightly off the paths, socializing in groups.
Clearly, Cart had been misinformed about the ton’s reasoning for visiting the park.
Not that any of that mattered to him—he was here for one reason.
To see Jude.
Miss Judith Pengarden.
It was odd to call a woman by her given name.
Their acquaintance had moved so quickly and had turned to a sort of friendship where one was given permission to address another so informally.
He’d convinced himself that their relationship was founded on nothing more than a mutual interest and possible future dealings.
That was where her interest in him ended—and his as well if he were smart.
He must remember to address her properly before her sisters, so as not to cast any doubt on the nature of their association.
If he were ever to locate Jude—the park was far grander than he imagined.
It had been years since he’d scoured the terrain with his father, bringing his archery bow and taking to the less populated areas to hone his skills. That had been over fifteen years ago, and his bow had been long forgotten—likely stolen by his uncle.
Surely the foliage-covered area hadn’t grown in size. He scanned the park once more, his eyes settling on no one in particular, lest they recognize him and insist on conversing.
He reminded himself yet again that he was not against idle conversation. But he was here for a purpose, which was not empty discourse.
Jude had mentioned arriving by carriage, so he’d found a path—a large loop—where many open-air conveyances traveled at a slow pace, allowing their inhabitants to talk to friends and acquaintances in other vehicles as they drove past. Several were stopped, their occupants in conversation, others pulled to the side to allow men and women to depart and continue on foot.
At this rate, Cart had a slim chance of spotting the one carriage he searched for, especially from his low vantage point on foot.
He hadn’t any idea the color of her horses or carriage. For a man who prided himself on being well informed, Cart was lacking exponentially today.
Veering off the path, Cart moved to a small rise that would enable him to reach a higher lookout point. The short climb left him short of breath and wishing it were acceptable to remove one’s coat and shirt during times of overexertion.
The view was unquestionably better than from the base of the parkland.
Once again, he scanned the crowd, his eyes passing quickly over blonde and brunette heads, also uninteresting were the women who wore extravagant headpieces with plumage and frills, for Jude was not a woman to don such frivolous attire.
He stopped short at the thought.
Cart did not know her well enough to put stock in his reasoning. True, they’d spent time together on three separate occasions and not once had Jude donned a silly hat, but that was in no way proof that she would not on a trip to the park.
Thoughts of Jude were clearly muddling his mind…he only hoped they didn’t cloud his judgment in the same manner.
The idea of returning home and sending Jude a note of apology was tempting, removing his coat and untying his neckcloth.
A spot of auburn with the barest hint of gold laced through it caught his eye.
A closer look showed not one but two women with matching hair, a brunette between them.
Cart issued a wave, feeling foolish for attracting the stares of so many people as he attempted to flag down Jude’s carriage.
The open carriage was directly before his elevated position on the rise when the occupants finally took notice.
The woman closest to him leaned forward—likely issuing a command to stop the carriage—and they pulled to the side, allowing others to continue on.
Smiling, Cart traversed back down to the path where he saw all three of the women departing the conveyance.
His stomach clinched. It was only proper he entertain the trio of sisters.
Why hadn’t he thought of this before? It was trying enough to gain the nerve to speak with Miss Jude, but her sisters, too?
His only meeting with Miss Payton had gone dreadfully.
The young woman had seemed uninterested in his presence at Craven House and had gone so far as to mock him while he awaited entry.
Jude’s eldest sister had scolded the girl and sent her away, but Payton’s rationale for her harsh jests were blurred to him.
“Lord Cartwright!” Jude called as he arrived before the party.
“Miss Judith. Miss Samantha.” Cart nodded to the pair and finally turned to their younger sister. “Miss Payton. It is lovely to see you all. Such a clear, bright, inviting day. Is it not?” He suspected the women noticed his discomfort—with both the weather and all their presences.
“It is a fine day, my lord,” Miss Samantha greeted him. “Jude was starting to worry you hadn’t come.”
Miss Samantha’s sly smile and Payton’s snicker told him the pair was making light of their sister, which irked him for reasons unknown. Another thing he might want to scrutinize more in his leisurely time.
“Miss Jude has nothing to fear on that score,” Cart attempted to rebuff Miss Samantha’s comment. “I am an honorable, punctual gentleman. If I give my word, I will always follow through.”
Miss Payton gave her sister a peculiar look before slipping her arm through Miss Samantha’s.
“Ah, well, I am desiring a stroll around the water—and since Lord Cartwright likely seeks to remain dry, we will meet you back here after our walk.” Payton chuckled once more at her jest as the pair smiled to Jude and gave a small hand wave before starting on their way.
Apparently, the twins had told their younger sister of his debacle in the pond.
Cart eyed the pair as they retreated, their heads bent together in conversation, Miss Samantha’s strides much longer than Miss Payton’s short ones. “Have I offended Miss Payton?” he inquired.
“Why would you think such a thing?” Jude set her hand on his arm and they started toward a path that kept them far enough from the pond Jude’s sisters were now heading toward.
“She was not”—he paused, fearful of insulting Jude’s sister—“the most welcoming when I arrived at Craven House for our visit.”
Jude laughed—a light, airy chuckle much the same as she had at the garden party—and patted his arm with her free hand. She continued to stare ahead at the path before them.
“Did I say something humorous?” He’d feared insulting her kin. She had laughed instead of being offended. “I apologize—“
“Lord Cartwright—Cart,” she corrected. “Do stop apologizing for any little affront you perceive and worry over.” She smiled at him and his worries, indeed, melted away, much as he feared his body was from the heat. “Pay thinks you are grand—never fear.”
Pay—short for Payton—Cart found he enjoyed their shortened names, much as he and Theo had pet names for one another. “I would never seek to slight or cause insult to your family, Miss Judith.”
They continued in a comfortable silence as they meandered down a shady path, out of the late afternoon sun. Jude nodded to acquaintances as they passed, but at no time stopped to engage people further.
As the silence lengthened, Cart couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ruined something, destroyed their companionable association with his tendency to continually fret and evaluate his surroundings.
He concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other as they ventured down a path less traveled—keeping his eyes from straying to the way Jude’s gown lay delicately across her breasts—many would say a fraction too constricting.
As before, their strides aligned as if they spent every day walking side by side.
The crowd of ramblers trickled down until they’d trekked for several minutes without encountering another soul.
The branches from the low-hanging trees and the overgrown shrubs began to narrow their path, causing Jude to walk closer to his side to avoid snagging her hair or dress on the encroaching plant life.
The soft fabric of her gown pressed to his arm and he tried to convince himself he hadn’t drawn her closer, allowing the side of her bosom to touch him, but rather that she’d moved ever closer of her own volition.
She slanted her head to avoid a branch and one hanging curl brushed his face.
“My lord?” she said on an exhale, returning to their formal address.
“Yes, Miss Jude?”