Chapter Three
Since Elizabeth was destined to die a lonely old maid with a vast deal too many cats, the ten minutes she had spent with Julian at the ball were likely to be the highlight of her rather pathetic existence.
He’d laughed with her, listened to her, swapped ridiculous observations on the absurdities of life.
That had been their way for years. It was little wonder, really, that she was so fully in love with the thickheaded man.
They were wonderful together, but he thought of her only as little Beth, with whom he’d grown up.
She sat on the window seat in her bedchamber, her stitching lying untouched on her lap. Sewing was possibly her least favorite occupation. She’d much rather read, but Father’s library was severely lacking in anything that held even the slightest appeal.
Mary stepped abruptly inside. “I need your green bonnet.”
Elizabeth had long since stopped expecting her sister to ask for anything, let alone ask kindly. “You have boxes and boxes of lovely bonnets.”
Mary rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. “But none of them are green. I cannot be seen in my cream carriage dress without a green bonnet. Now, where is it?” she demanded with a stomp of her foot.
I am going to die alone.
Fanny, the ladies’ maid whom Mary and Elizabeth shared, rushed in. “Miss Gillerford! Miss Gillerford! Mr. Broadwood is here to fetch you already.”
That brought a look of near panic to Mary’s face. “The bonnet, Elizabeth. Give it to me.”
“Mr. Broadwood is insisting that Miss Elizabeth come as well,” Fanny said.
“Elizabeth? Come along on my carriage ride?” Mary’s shout likely carried across the Channel. She flew from the room in an instant.
Elizabeth met Fanny’s eyes. “Has he really invited me along with him?”
She nodded. “And he told Mrs. Gillerford that he’d not take Miss Gillerford unless you came as well. Your mother is in quite a state, I tell you.”
Dear, sweet Julian. “It seems to me that, for the sake of my mother’s health, I had best dress for a carriage ride.”
Fanny was a step ahead; she had Elizabeth’s carriage dress out of the wardrobe already and laid out on the bed. “If we are really quick, you can be downstairs before Miss Gillerford reaches the end of her tantrum.”
“Excellent.”
They had a speed born of years spent helping Elizabeth dress during the rare few moments Mary wasn’t demanding her maid’s presence. Elizabeth hurried down the stairs just as Mary was storming up them.
“I don’t know how you managed this,” she hissed, “but do not embarrass me.”
Elizabeth ignored the all-too-familiar warning and continued to the front entryway. Julian stood there, gloves still on, hat in his hands. He looked up as she approached, and his perturbed expression melted into a friendly smile.
“I see word has reached you,” he said.
“To quote my beloved sister, ‘I don’t know how you managed this.’” She accepted her wrap from the maid at the front door.
“I simply chose to be stubborn about it,” Julian said. “You being in a carriage with your sister and me— an old family friend— along with a maid would be quite unexceptional. It isn’t quite a Society function, but at least you will have left the house.”
She tightened the ribbon under her chin. “When I inevitably join a convent, I will make certain to submit your name for sainthood.”
His adorable smile surfaced on the instant. “You? In a convent?” He shook his head and chuckled. “The vow of silence alone would see you expelled.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Then I suppose you’ll simply have to kidnap a husband for me.”
“I thought we were forcing someone to wed Mary.”
“Did I hear my name?” Mary was practically running down the stairs. She held her blue bonnet on her head with one hand and clutched her skirt with the other. “I am ready. We can be on our way now.”
Mary stopped directly beside Julian, perhaps a touch too close for propriety. He held himself stiffly but quite civilly.
“How lovely it will be to make a turn about Hyde Park during the fashionable hour,” Mary said. “Why, simply everyone will be there!” Her eyes darted to Elizabeth, and she added, under her breath, “And I do mean everyone, even those who aren’t wanted.”
Elizabeth ignored her sister. This was her one chance at escape, and she wasn’t going to miss it. She waited patiently at the door, watching Julian expectantly. He flashed her the briefest of smiles, enough to set her heart fluttering about— a sensation she went to great lengths to keep hidden.
“Ladies,” he invited, motioning to the door. “The park awaits.”
A dark-blue landau with black trim sat in front of the house, its folding top down to reveal fine gray leather upholstery.
A driver, in livery that perfectly coordinated with the vehicle, was already in position.
Julian clearly didn’t wish to prolong the outing any longer than absolutely necessary.
She could appreciate that— Mary’s company grew tedious after a matter of moments— but, for her own sake, Elizabeth wished the ride could last all afternoon.
I will simply have to savor it.
Julian handed Mary up first. She sat on the forward-facing seat, directly in the middle. Elizabeth was handed up next. As she moved to sit rear-facing, Julian spoke up.
“Do make room for your sister, Miss Gillerford,” he said. “Surely you would not insist she ride rear-facing. Such a thing would be unforgivably rude.”
To give someone a forward-facing seat was an indication of their importance, or in the matter of gentlemen and ladies, it was an act of chivalry for him to give up that seat to her.
Mary clearly would not countenance her younger sister being given as much consideration as herself, lest the two be viewed as equals.
Elizabeth knew her sister too well to expect otherwise.
Mary sputtered a moment whilst Elizabeth stood on the step, unsure where she ought to sit.
“But my maid has a sad tendency to grow ill in a carriage if riding rear-facing.” Formulating schemes and half-truths at a moment’s notice was one of Mary’s particular skills. “So Elizabeth simply cannot sit here.”
Mary’s brow assumed a triumphant arch.
But, then, so did Julian’s. What had left him so decidedly pleased?
“I would hate for your maid to be ill,” he said. “Miss Elizabeth, would you kindly assume the rear-facing seat?”
She did. She would have ridden up beside the driver if it meant a few moments out of the house.
Just as gallantly as he’d handed up Elizabeth and her sister, Julian offered Fanny his assistance and saw her situated beside Mary. “That leaves me the place beside Miss Elizabeth.” He looked at her. “I hope you do not mind.”
“Not in the least.” She managed the response in a tone of only casual interest despite the laughter begging to be released at the sight of Mary’s thunderous expression.
She would wager that her sister had only just realized how her fabricated story had cost her the opportunity to sit beside the object of her matrimonial ambitions.
But Mary never was long discouraged. “We may just as easily— I daresay more easily— make this outing without Elizabeth.” Somehow the dismissive remark was made in a tone of utmost sweetness and innocence.
“Perhaps.” Julian took the seat beside Elizabeth and motioned for the driver to set the horses in motion. “But her presence will prevent any unwanted whispers.”
“Whispers?” Mary smiled and swatted in his direction with her hand. “Why, you silly man. What whispers could there possibly be? Our families are neighbors, and our connection is quite well established.”
“Perhaps, but we are not actually related. I would hate for Society to take any notions into their heads that are neither accurate nor welcome.”
Mary shrugged a dainty shoulder. “No one would ever suspect us of anything untoward.”
“I am far more concerned that they would suspect us of courting.”
Mary’s coy smile dropped off quickly, and her demeanor grew more than a touch icy. But she did stop talking, which, Elizabeth would wager, was a welcome change for everyone present. She had never seen anyone handle Mary as neatly as Julian just had. She felt a real urge to applaud.
“Have you ever been in the park during the daily crush?” Julian asked Elizabeth.
“I haven’t, but I have heard a great deal about it. Is the spectacle as ridiculous as I suspect?”
A laugh rumbled deep in his chest. She’d always liked his laugh, even when they were young and it had been more of a giggle.
“There is a great deal of the ridiculous about the ritual. Once we reach the park, the carriage will all but come to a stop, perhaps inching forward now and then. Completing a full circuit will require vast swaths of time, far more than it ought.”
“Perhaps the horses should be permitted a brief nap between the sixth and seventh hour,” Elizabeth suggested. “Or a moment’s respite for dinner.”
Again his laugh filled the space between them. A lady could happily spend the rest of her days listening to the sound.
“Does everyone simply arrive at the park, come to a standstill, and then, once darkness falls, inch their way back home?” she asked.
“Nothing as painless as all that, I’m afraid.” His brown eyes lit with mirth. “We will be required to bid good day to every person who passes by— at least to those we ought to consider not too far below our notice.”
“And how does one know which are too lowly or ill-mannered to be acknowledged? Do they wear signs?”
“Signs?” Mary sputtered her way into the conversation at last. “How utterly preposterous. Little wonder you have never had a Season. You wouldn’t have the first idea how to go about it.”
Julian gave Elizabeth a dry look. “Oh, there are signs, Beth. Irrefutable signs.”
“You are going to make me laugh, and then I will be lectured about being properly demure, and that will ruin this entire outing.”
“Who could possibly disapprove of seeing you laugh?” he asked.
Elizabeth skewered him with a dry look in the exact moment Mary released a huff of disapproval.