CHAPTER NINE #3
A beaming Aubrey nearly tripped over his feet in his eagerness to get outside where Lord Hastings’ curricle waited at the curb.
By the time the adults proceeding at a more leisurely pace reached the vehicle, he was engaged in conversation with Huckston, at the heads of a pair of greys who seemed to share the boy’s high spirits.
“Oh, sir, such magnificent horses with those deep chests, and so well matched!” Aubrey turned a sparkling countenance on Lord Hastings, who had strolled up to the engrossed pair.
“I see you have an eye for horseflesh, lad. Yes, they are a prime pair, not your pretty high-steppers fit only to pull a lady’s barouche in the park.”
Laura stood quietly to one side, a little smile on her lips as she listened to the two men discuss the horses’ points with the young boy with a heartwarming absence of condescension.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Marsh,” Lord Hastings said, catching her eye, “for keeping you standing while the menfolk croon over the horses like mothers over infants.”
“Not at all, sir. I have been listening and, hopefully, learning.”
“Shall we try their paces, Aubrey? If you will climb up first I’ll assist your cousin.”
As Aubrey scrambled up into the curricle, Lord Hastings extended his hand to Laura with a smile whose potency brought her eyes down in confusion.
She concentrated fiercely on lifting her teal blue skirts and watching the precise placement of her kid half-boots as she ascended to the seat and settled in, with uncharacteristic care for the drape of her skirt.
Meanwhile, Lord Hastings had jumped up and taken the reins from his groom, assuring Huckston that he anticipated no difficulty in finding someone to mind the horses while they toured the Tower.
“Make yourself small, young Aubrey,” he ordered, planting himself firmly on the larger portion of the bench and letting the impatient horses go.
Laura angled her left shoulder toward Lord Hastings so she could put her right arm around Aubrey and bring him closer to her, eaving the driver more room for his arms. He spared her a quick glance of approval before returning his attention to his mettlesome pair.
His “They are still pretty fresh,” was the only remark from driver or passengers during the next few minutes, as he concentrated on guiding the greys smoothly through residential streets crowded with vehicular and pedestrian traffic.
As they turned into Fleet Street and stepped up the pace, Lord Hastings glanced down at the boy beside him with a smile. “Now you’ll see what sweet goers the greys are once they’ve done objecting to everything else on the roadway.”
“It was a real treat to watch the way you bring them under control without even using the whip, sir,” Aubrey enthused.
Lord Hastings’ smiling eyes met Laura’s briefly over the boy’s head. “I am generally accorded a fair whip,” he said without false modesty, “but your cousin will scarcely credit that, since our first meeting came about because of some bad driving on my part that resulted in an accident.”
“Weather conditions were dreadful that night,” Laura replied to her cousin’s inquiring look.
“In any case it is quite plain that Aubrey and I have no cause to fear for our safety in your hands, sir.” She glanced about her with interest. “Where are we exactly? I don’t believe I have ever been this far in an easterly direction since coming to London. ”
“We are coming into Leadenhall Street now. I am told that some of the best fabric warehouses have their premises along this hill, and that shop we’re passing at the moment is one of the premier jewellers, Rundell and Bridge. Have you been to St. Paul’s yet, Miss Marsh?”
“Regrettably, no.”
“Then, if Aubrey does not object to a slight detour, I’ll drive around the cathedral plaza so you may feast your eyes on its splendour.”
A blushing Aubrey hastened to deny any objections and Laura, her face radiant, thanked the driver. “You are very kind.”
Laura’s eyes grew huge as Wren’s masterwork came into view, dwarfing everything else in its vicinity. She let out a breathless, “Oh my!” and lapsed into reverent silence, transfixed by the magnificent dome of the cathedral.
“I believe only St. Peter’s in Rome is larger,” Lord Hastings said, following her glance.
He and the ever-surprising Aubrey began to compare dimensions, a conversation that Laura scarcely took in, so intent was her visual concentration at the time.
It wasn’t until the curricle had encircled the cathedral’s plaza and proceeded on its way east once more that she returned her attention to her companions.
“Thank you, sir. I am so happy to have had the opportunity to see St. Paul’s. ”
“We’ll save the interior for another day,” he promised.
Laura permitted herself a half-smile in acknowledgment, though whether at his kindness or presumption she’d have been hard pressed to say.
“Did you know that for a small sum you may go up into the highest gallery, where you can see the inner and the outer dome? The view is said to be very fine, but there are more than five hundred steps, and Papa refused to let me undertake the climb.” Aubrey’s voice and face were regretfulness personified. “Have you ever done that, sir?”
“Yes, once,” Lord Hastings replied with a wry smile. “On a wager. Unfortunately I cannot testify about the view, because the fog was so thick that there was none that day.”
A little gurgle of laughter sounded in Laura’s throat before she turned a pair of limpid eyes on the driver. “Then you must take care to choose a sunny day next time, sir.”
“What say you, then, Aubrey, that we all agree to make this excursion on a day of your cousin’s choosing?” he proposed promptly to take the wind out of her sails.
She rallied quickly, speaking with assumed regret over Aubrey’s eager assent. “I should love to accept, of course, but it would be ungrateful and unseemly of me to act against my uncle’s wishes.”
“Oh, Papa would have had no objection to my going up if there had been someone to accompany me,” Aubrey explained, blind to his cousin’s warning look. “He just said he was dam — dashed if he was going to exhaust himself to see a view he could see in a painting.”
“Then we are agreed,” Lord Hastings said with proper gravity, but the eyes that met Laura’s over the boy’s head were full of what she could only term fiendish glee.
Hoist with her own petard as she was, something stubborn or reckless in her makeup refused to back down. “We are agreed, if my mother permits,” she echoed, hiding her chagrin and changing the subject to what she hoped sounded like a casual inquiry as to their present location.
“I am heading down toward the river to take Lower Thames Street to the Tower. I thought you would enjoy seeing the river.”
Laura gave her ostensible attention over to the areas through which they drove while she dealt with her annoyance at having been so easily manoeuvred into an undertaking that held no appeal whatsoever.
On that subject she found herself in full accord with her uncle.
Not that she doubted her physical stamina, but any such ascent was bound to be dark and dirty, and most likely populated by spiders and other creatures with which one would not wish to consort in close quarters.
Lord Hastings, the smiling fiend, had expected her to decline, of course, and she had refused to acknowledge herself bested out of stupid pride or sheer contrariness, both unadmirable traits that she was loath to own.
She came to the reluctant conclusion that her only option was to do penance by following through on her bumptious boast with as much grace as she could muster, for Aubrey’s sake and the honour of the family.
Starting with this minute, she decided, giving the architect of her dismay a brilliant smile as he helped her to descend from the curricle at the Tower entrance.
Lord Hastings gave a coin to the most respectable looking among the idlers in the area, promising more on their return if the horses were contented.
Nothing Laura had read about the Tower and its often tragic role in the nation’s history had left her with a mind picture of its physical presence, at least not an accurate one.
“The little streets and the grassy areas make it seem almost … homey,” she blurted as they strolled around the inner ward, “but that is ridiculous, of course. It is simply —” She broke off with a helpless little gesture of her hand.
“I understand,” Lord Hastings said, nodding. “On a beautiful day such as this, one finds it difficult to comprehend all the tragic events that one’s intellect is aware took place in these precincts down through the ages.”
She gave him a grateful look as Aubrey asked if he knew which of the thirteen towers around the inner defences was the infamous Bloody Tower.
The horse-armoury was everything the boy had hoped, with its long row of wooden effigies of the monarchs astride wonderfully carved horses, some of them clad in the very battle armour the royal rider had worn.
Lord Hastings informed the cousins that Charles I’s horse had been carved by the great Grinling Gibbons himself.
During the hour they spent roaming about the grounds that included a minute inspection of the crown jewels on display and a stroll past the cages that housed the Tower’s collection of wild animals, Laura’s irritation with their escort drained away, replaced by a warm feeling of obligation as she observed his good-natured reception of her cousin’s eager questions.
There was no doubt in her mind that Lord Hastings genuinely liked the boy and wished to see him enjoy himself on the excursion she’d shamelessly manipulated him into.
Now, long after the fact, she experienced a rush of — if not outright shame — at least recognition that she’d been guilty of unbecoming presumption, the more so because of Lord Hastings’ exemplary conduct in the affair.
On the other hand, it could certainly be argued that her erstwhile patient had paid her back in her own coin — or had he simply turned the other cheek like a good Christian?
Laura had reached the point of fearing that thinking only addled one’s brain when the trio exited the Tower, bringing an end to her unsettling reflections.
The return drive was enlivened by the easy three-cornered conversation among the curricle’s occupants, recalling the most memorable impressions they’d taken away from the places they’d seen that afternoon.
Aubrey’s enjoyment in the outing was palpable and infectious, and Laura felt in charity with the whole world as they retraced their path westward.
Not until they pulled up in front of the Albright house was there a rent in the cloak of camaraderie that had enfolded the trio.
Aubrey, having thanked Lord Hastings with stumbling sincerity, had already hopped down and was giving the greys a fond farewell pat while Laura expressed her own gratitude, adding, “Indeed, you have been the soul of kindness to my cousin today, sir, and I am excessively grateful.”
He took the hand she offered in his, but demurred with a laughing glance at Aubrey.
“I was just such a one at his age, horse mad and curious about all sorts of things. It was no effort to be kind to him.” There was a warm glow in the eyes fixed on hers as he added softly, “It was even less effort to be kind to a lovely girl wearing a gown that turns her eyes the darkest shade of the sea under blue skies.”
“I thank you for the compliment, sir, but feel I ought to warn you that I have no bent for flirtation,” she said firmly, tugging unavailingly to free her hand.
“What, none at all?” he asked, affecting dismayed incredulity.
“None,” she repeated still more firmly, refusing to gratify his ungentlemanly desire to discompose her as she succeeded in releasing her hand at last.
His pleasant features took on a downcast expression, then a hopeful look came into the brilliant blue eyes. “I could teach you,” he offered.
“You are too kind, sir, but it is not an accomplishment that I admire,” she retorted primly, to squelch his pretensions before she was betrayed by the laughter bubbling up inside.
She climbed down unaided, since he was occupied in holding the horses steady, but she erred in looking over her shoulder to bid him a civil good day.
“I have been grossly deceived in your character, Miss Marsh,” he complained, replacing the beaver hat he’d doffed. “I had not thought you so rigid as to condemn something without having first tried it.”
On this outrageous parting shot, Lord Hastings drove off while the now-laughing girl followed her cousin into the house.
She reminded herself that she found a penchant for flirtation deplorable, but recognised at the same time that the man’s disarming charm was a product of a genuinely happy nature, allied with a generosity of spirit that would always draw people to him.
When combined with eyes of a magnificent, startling blue and an unruly lock of chestnut hair that made one’s fingers itch to restore it to its fellows, perhaps “dangerous charm” was the more apt descriptive.
Happily, she was not the sort of hen-witted young woman who would allow physical attractions to influence her assessment of character, but a smile lingered on her lips as she pulled off her bonnet and started up the stairs.