Chapter 7
After the garden party’s conclusion, Letty was standing with her mother, waiting for the carriage to be brought around when Vander came striding up.
He fixed her mother with his most charming smile. “Lady Baldridge,” he said, bowing over her hand. “Would it be impertinent to say how lovely you look in that shade of primrose?”
She rapped his knuckles with her fan, but she was smiling. “Not impertinent so much as obvious. What do you want, Vander?”
He looked at Letty and smiled. “Your daughter.”
Letty almost swooned right onto the portico’s flagstone floor. Dear God, she needed to get hold of herself. She knew full well Vander hadn’t meant it like that.
He could not have been clearer on that point.
She tried to pretend she hadn’t been attending. “Hmm? What was that, Vander?”
Her mother was looking at her strangely, but Vander said smoothly, “I was wondering if I might drive Letty home in my phaeton. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, and we didn’t get much of a chance to talk at the party.”
“Of course. So long as you convey her straight home, as we’ve another engagement this evening.” Her mother leaned forward, giving Vander a firm look. “And you are to keep the hood open, young man.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Vander was already towing Letty toward his phaeton, a flashy highflyer in cherry red drawn by an exquisitely matched pair of dark bays. He helped boost her up into the seat, then climbed up beside her, taking the reins.
As the horses started forward, Letty squeezed her eyes shut. This was one of those moments she had always dreamed about, Vander taking her for a ride in his highflyer. Even though she knew he wasn’t doing so out of any sort of interest in her, she knew with a dreadful certainty that she would be revisiting this moment a thousand times in her daydreams.
She shook herself. She mustn’t be so obvious in her mooning. She pulled her fan from her reticule and snapped it open, attempting to look nonchalant. “So. What did you think of Miss Peabody?”
Vander steered his team into a corner. “I hope this does not come across as insulting to the lady, but that was the longest hour of my life, and if I never hear mention of the word ‘ribbon’ again, it will be too soon.”
“Really?” Letty gestured to Vander’s coat, which was exquisitely tailored in dove grey superfine, emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist. “You are widely regarded as a tastemaker when it comes to fashion. I would have thought you could tolerate a discussion of millinery.”
“I can, just not one that lasts for a full hour. For my next candidate, I would appreciate it if you could choose a woman who has more than one topic of conversation and who occasionally pauses for breath.”
Letty fanned herself more brusquely, annoyed. “I asked what qualities you were looking for, and you said beautiful. So, I gave you beautiful.”
“You did, but I would now like to amend my request. I require a bride who is beautiful and intelligent.”
Letty slumped against the black velvet squabs. She couldn’t decide whether she was annoyed that Vander had found her suggestion—which was precisely what he had asked for—lacking, or relieved that she would not have to watch him marry Priscilla Peabody. Perhaps a bit of both. “Fine. Let me think on it tonight. I’ll send you a note once I’ve arranged a meeting with someone else.”
“Thank you.” He nudged her with his elbow. She glanced up and found him grinning his scoundrel’s grin down at her.
Her annoyance shriveled. It was truly impossible to remain mad at this man.
“So, how did you fare with Throckmorton?” he asked.
“Better, I think, than you did with Miss Peabody,” she said carefully.
Vander snorted. “Not the most ringing endorsement.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Unlike you, I cannot just throw my suitors out and ask for new candidates. I must choose between the two men who have asked me. Lord Throckmorton does not seem like a bad man. Who knows? Perhaps, with time, we would come to have a very agreeable marriage.”
“Hmmm.” Vander sounded distinctly unimpressed. “Have you kissed him?”
Letty fumbled her fan, managing to drop it. “Have I what?”
“Have you kissed him?” Vander took his eyes off the horses for an instant. Whatever he saw on her face—panic, most likely—made him roll his eyes. “This is no time to be missish. Whichever man you choose, there’s a good chance he’ll be the only man you’ll kiss—and do other things with—for the rest of your life. Compatibility is important. Trust me.”
Letty’s cheeks were aflame as she retrieved her fan from the phaeton’s floor. “I—I know that,” she sputtered. “I’m just shocked that you want to speak about such a grossly inappropriate topic.”
Vander laughed. “This is me, Letty. The most scandalous man in London. Grossly inappropriate topics are my specialty. But, in all seriousness, I’ve decided to help you pick amongst your suitors. It seems the least I can do, given the lengths you’re going to on my behalf. Now, as I was saying, however unseemly it may be, compatibility when it comes to, er, kissing, is crucial. As you clearly haven’t made any forays in that direction—”
“I have,” Letty hissed. “I’m not an idiot. If you must know, I have kissed them both.”
She thought Vander would crow at having been proved right. But strangely, a sour look stole over his face, just for an instant. He shook his head, and his expression cleared. “Er—excellent. It’s only sensible, after all. So, which one is better at kissing?”
“Better?” Letty looked away, watching rows of shops pass by in a blur. This was the question she’d been turning over in her head far too often, and still, she was unsure of the answer.
“Bertie’s kiss was very”—she waved a hand, searching for the term—“wet. And Lord Throckmorton’s was quite… dry.”
“So, they’re both terrible at kissing,” Vander said, swinging his team into a turn.
Letty fanned her burning cheeks. “I didn’t say that!”
“And yet, you did.” He cut his eyes to her. “Have you ever had a decent kiss?”
Letty glanced to the side, wondering how badly she would injure herself were she to leap from the moving carriage in an attempt to escape this conversation.
Probably quite badly. They were a good six feet off the ground.
“They are the only two men I have ever kissed,” she answered stiffly.
“That does make the situation challenging,” Vander mused. At her confused look, he added, “It takes some time to get to know a new partner. Everyone is different and will have certain things they like and others they don’t care for. What I’m trying to say is, they might be trainable. But it would help if you had more experience, so you could show them what you like.”
They were pulling into Grosvenor Square, where the Baldridge townhouse was located. Letty’s time with Vander was drawing to a close. “That seems rather unlikely,” she noted.
“Perhaps so.” Vander reined in the horses. “Well, you can at least”—he wrinkled his nose, an expression of distaste coming across his features—“try again, and see if either of them improves with practice.”
Letty gave an involuntary shudder, a gesture she wished wasn’t so telling. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Vander hopped down, then helped her descend to the pavement. He saw her to the door and was back atop his conveyance in a moment, driving away without a single glance back.
Letty sighed as she peered through the curtains in the front room, watching until he disappeared from sight. She knew already that she would think about him all evening.
Shaking her head, she let the curtains fall back into place and headed upstairs to change for dinner.