Chapter 2 #3
A gaggle of children raced past, one nearly colliding with Esme. She stepped aside quickly, her foot slipping on a patch of damp gravel. For one brief instant, she felt her balance go.
A hand closed around her elbow—firm, warm, steady.
"I did not realize that you intended to begin our aquatic mischief so early in the Season," Redford said calmly.
She found herself closer to him than was proper. His grip, though, was steady, as if he had caught a falling vase, not a woman.
"If I wished to throw myself into the Serpentine, I assure you I would choose a more dramatic audience."
"I live in hope of it. But until then, perhaps allow me to keep you out of the water."
He released her slowly.
"Thank you," she said.
"You may repay me by assisting with our first official act in the Park. See there?"
He nodded toward a bench where Lady Honoria held court, a pale parasol tilted just so, her gaze sweeping the path. Standing a few paces away, looking both hopeful and doomed, was a young gentleman Esme recognized as Mr. Dane.
"He has been hovering for ten minutes," Redford said. "He cannot quite bring himself to approach. Honoria, on the other hand, is desperate for something new to dissect. If he attempts to speak to you instead, he will be devoured."
"You propose to save him from me?" Esme asked. "I am wounded."
"From Lady Woodmere," Redford said. "She is already craning to see if he intends to offer for you in the middle of the path. I suggest we adjust matters slightly."
"What do you suggest?"
"A misdirection," he said. "Smile at Mr. Dane. I'll be so obviously in your way that he must apply to someone else for assistance. Miss Moreland, perhaps, will then draw him into Honoria's orbit by asking the wrong question at precisely the right moment."
"You have already told her," Esme said.
"Minister of Chaos," he reminded her. "She requires advance notice."
Esme considered the scene. Mother's hopeful attention, Mr. Dane's nerves, Honoria's sharpened fan. So little would tilt the entire arrangement.
"Very well," she said. "Let us see if our Society can function beyond ballrooms."
She turned toward Mr. Dane and gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
He brightened at once, took a step forward, then faltered as Redford shifted to stand more directly in his path.
Mr. Dane hovered, color rising. Genny drifted up to him.
"Mr. Dane!" she exclaimed. "How fortunate. Lady Honoria was just saying she longs for intelligent company. You must rescue her at once. I shall perish if I must endure one more remark about her own poem."
Ten seconds later, Mr. Dane found himself deposited at Honoria's bench, stammering something about the weather. Honoria's eyes lit up.
"Effective," Esme said.
"Efficient," Redford replied.
Annoyingly, her stomach gave a traitorous little flip as if she had just been praised instead of teased.
Mother sighed and turned her attention to a passing baroness.
Esme felt a small thrill.
This was wrong, she knew. Manipulating other people's afternoons was not what sensible young ladies did.
But then, sensible young ladies did not form societies with rakes either.
"We shall need a motto," Redford said. "All proper societies have one."
"We have rules," she said. "Is that not enough?"
"Hardly," he said. "Something about breathing, perhaps, or mischief restrained by mercy."
She considered. "What about 'For the Prevention of Sensible Arrangements'?"
His grin was sudden and bright. "Perfect. You realize, of course, that you have just given me permission to be entirely insufferable."
"You do not need my permission for that," she said.
"True," he conceded. "But it is pleasant to have."
They reached the end of the path. Ahead, the drive curved back toward the carriages.
Esme paused, looking out over the water.
"Do you ever wish," she said softly, "that you could simply... step off the path?"
He followed her gaze. "Frequently."
"And yet," she said, "here we are, walking where everyone expects."
"For now," he said. "But paths are more interesting when one knows where they lead."
She looked at him. "You are a very bad influence, Lord Redford."
"I am an excellent influence," he corrected. "Just not on the things your brother values."
Her smile was small, but real. "That may be the same thing."
From behind them, Genny called Esme's name, waving both arms while Mother beckoned with her parasol.
Duty tugged, habit followed.
Esme drew a sharp breath.
"I must go," she said.
"Of course," he replied. "We cannot have Lady Woodmere suspecting that fresh air leads to rebellion. She would have the Park barricaded at once."
She hesitated, then smiled. "Thank you, for... breathing room."
He bowed. "Anytime, Lady Esme. The Mutual Mischief Society remains at your service."
As she returned to the carriage, she felt his gaze. She fairly skipped in delight at the knowledge of him watching her.
Harrison would fume. Mother would scheme. And Watford? He would reappear with opinions.
But somewhere between Woodmere House and Hyde Park, Esme discovered that she did not have to walk the Season's path entirely alone.
And that, she thought, slipping Genny's arm through hers and ignoring her brother's glare, was most welcome.