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Three

      Sophie decided she needed some ribbon for the evening gown she intended to wear for Mark’s concert. It was a rose-pink gauze worn over a white silk underdress. In her view it was too plain and needed a long ribbon tied in floating ends beneath the bust and to embellish the puffed sleeves. She had suggested as much to Jane when she was altering it, but her sister had said it was fine as it was. On the other hand, she really could not allow herself to be outshone by Cassandra. ‘You never know whom I shall meet,’ she said to Bessie. ‘Mark might contrive to introduce me to eligibles of his acquaintance. I wonder if his cousin will be there. He is staying at Wyndham House, you know.’

      ‘No, I did not know. Do you know the gentleman?’

      ‘I don’t know. I might have met him at my sisters’ wedding.’

      ‘He cannot have made much of an impression if you cannot remember him.’

      ‘I might if I knew his name, but Mark did not mention it when he told us a cousin was staying with him. I wonder if he is like Mark?’

      ‘So you are adding frippery to impress someone you do not know.’

      ‘Certainly not. I simply want to look my best. Wyndham House is quite grand, you know, and no doubt Mark’s friends are top of the trees. I know Cassandra will be showing herself off. I cannot be seen to lag behind.’

      ‘Has Lady Cartrose ordered the carriage this morning?’

      ‘Yes, but not for me. She is going to fulfil a long-standing engagement with some old friends and I am not required to go with her. Goodness knows where Teddy is. You will come with me, won’t you? We can walk.’

      ‘Yes, of course I will come.’

      As soon as Lady Cartrose had left, Sophie and Bessie set out on foot for Bond Street. It was no longer so cold, but it had rained again and the streets were wet and muddy, and they were obliged to lift their skirts a little and watch carefully where they were putting their feet. Bessie would rather have postponed the outing, but Sophie would not hear of it. ‘Don’t be so poor-spirited, Bessie,’ she said. ‘It is not so bad.’

      They were walking down the busy shopping street when a high-perch phaeton sped past them, spraying Sophie, who was walking a little ahead of Bessie, with filthy water. ‘Of all the inconsiderate muckworms,’ she said, staring after it, fury on every line of her face. ‘Now look at my gown. I shall have to go back and change.’ She was turning to go back the way they had come when she realised the vehicle had stopped and its driver was descending with the intention of coming back to them.

      Bessie pulled on her arm. ‘Do not speak to him, I beg of you.’

      ‘Why not? I mean to tell him just what I think of him.’

      It was only when he turned towards her and she could see his face that she recognised Sir Reginald Swayle, one of her erstwhile suitors. ‘Oh, lord, it’s that dandy, Reggie,’ she murmured.

      He wore a double-breasted long-tailed coat in dark blue superfine, a flamboyantly tied cravat, yellow pantaloon trousers and a tall hat with a narrow brim, which he doffed on approaching her. ‘A thousand pardons, Miss Cavenhurst. If I had known it was you, I would have stopped and taken you up.’

      ‘Meaning, I suppose, that if it had been anyone else you would not have stopped at all,’ she said. ‘Very chivalrous of you, I am sure. It is too bad of you, sir. Driving like a lunatic down these busy streets is the height of folly and inconsiderate of pedestrians.’

      ‘I was not driving like a lunatic. And ladies should know better than to walk down streets wet after rain.’

      ‘Oh, so it is my fault my dress is ruined and instead of going shopping, I am now obliged to return to my aunt’s to change.’

      ‘No, I am not blaming you and I have said I am sorry. Allow me take you back to change your dress and then I will take you to buy a new one.’

      ‘That will not be necessary.’

      ‘Oh, but it is. Come, let me help you into my carriage.’

      ‘There is no room for my maid.’

      ‘She can walk.’

      ‘Don’t go, Miss Sophie, I beg of you,’ Bessie said. ‘If we walk quickly, we shall be back in Mount Street in no time.’

      ‘I don’t care to walk through the streets looking like a dish mop,’ Sophie told her. ‘It is not as if Reggie is a stranger.’

      ‘No, indeed,’ he said, offering her his arm to escort her to the carriage.

      She took it, while addressing Bessie over her shoulder. ‘I will see you back at Cartrose House.’

      He helped her up into the extraordinary vehicle, climbed up himself and picked up the reins. ‘I shall have to go a little farther along the road before I can turn round,’ he said. ‘But it should not cause more than a few minutes’ delay.’

      She was sitting almost at first-floor level and had to admit, if only to herself, that it was exciting to be so high, looking down on lesser mortals. ‘When did you acquire this monstrous vehicle?’ she asked.

      ‘It is not monstrous. It is all the rage and it is fast.’

      ‘So I observed. Too fast for city streets.’

      ‘It cuts quite a dash in the park. I was on my way there. Should you like to try it? I cannot conveniently turn round before we reach Piccadilly and we would be almost at the park before we could turn up Park Lane. I collect your maid mentioned Mount Street.’

      Unfamiliar with the side streets of the city, she accepted this explanation. ‘I do not think that would be altogether proper,’ she said. ‘And my dress is all muddy.’

      ‘No one can see it,’ he said, turning to look at her. ‘The top half is not affected. You look very fetching.’

      ‘Is this a ploy to make me change my mind about turning down your proposal?’

      ‘Would it succeed?’

      ‘No. What are you doing in London? Did you hear that I was here?’

      ‘The doings of the Cavenhursts in Hadlea are an open book, my dear, but I cannot say it was my whole reason for coming. If I cannot have you, then I must settle for second best.’

      ‘Then I pity her. To be second best must be altogether too humiliating. If I were her, I would never agree to it.’

      ‘Oh, she would never know.’

      ‘Do you not think she might guess? I am sure I should.’

      ‘Perhaps it will not become necessary.’

      ‘No, you might fall genuinely in love.’

      He laughed and manoeuvred the carriage through the park gates. ‘It is as easy to drive along here as it is up Park Lane,’ he said. ‘We can drive out through the Grosvenor Gate.’

      She was becoming slightly alarmed that he might be trying to abduct her, but shook the idea from her thoughts. He was unlikely to do anything so outrageous in Hyde Park, where there were hundreds of people to whom she could appeal. The hundreds of people were the bigger problem. Her aunt had introduced her to so many friends and acquaintances on their carriage ride, she could not remember half of them. Supposing they saw her and recognised her? Sitting so high above everyone else, she could not fail to be seen. She had no chaperone and did not even have the protection of a parasol, for there had been no sun when they set out and she had not needed one. The only thing she could do was brave it out.

      ‘This is the most extraordinary vehicle,’ she said, turning towards him so that her face was turned from the occupants of a carriage then passing them. ‘I am not sure I feel altogether safe.’

      ‘Oh, it is safe enough in expert hands,’ he said. ‘Though if a greenhorn were to attempt to

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