Page 32 of My Fair Lord

“How can I be sensible when making bows to fish and swans?” Ned asked, flicking his eyes to her hands. He believed he had made a fair point about her choice of names. They were always drawn from either the paintings that adorned the long gallery where they held their lessons, or items on the tea tray.

From her seat in the window, Lady Griggs gave a hooting laugh. Miss Wakechild tossed the paper dolls onto the table with a flourish. They landed in a pile, gravity caring not a whit for the order of precedence in which they fell.

“There!” She put her hands on her hips and glared first at her sister, then at Ned severely. It made her look quite charming. “Now will you please take this seriously.”

Miss Wakechild’s cheeks were growing blotchy with anger. Not for a redhead the delicate blush of pink blossom, but the bright and angry red of strawberries. Lady Griggs laughed again but a little warning bell rang in Ned’s ear. He had perhaps gone too far in his mockery. It was clear that she really wanted to win the wager and he wasn’t really taking it seriously. Having her sister laughing at her would not help matters either.

“I am being serious,” he said quietly. “However, I will not be in a position to dictate the order in which I am introduced to these ladies as my host will decide that.”

He bent down to pick up a stray baronet who had fallen to the carpet and set him besides his wife.

“Also, it strikes me that as I will be fraudulently masquerading as one of their number, it would be a wise idea to stay very clear of any genuine members of the nobility and confine myself to meeting your father and his immediate circle, don’t you agree?”

“It’s a good point,” Lady Griggs interjected from the bay window where she was sitting with a large embroidery frame, working on a scene of the gardens beyond. “Dear Twemlow is barely capable of recognising his own cousins in a crowded ballroom without me or his mother pointing them out, but you don’t want to encounter anyone who will be able to disprove your lies.”

Miss Wakechild turned her back on Ned and walked over to look at her sister’s progress. Ned joined them, catching sight of himself in the mirror. He clasped his hands behind his back and stared at himself as if looking at a stranger. He was smooth-shaven now but growing a neat pair of sideburns that he was privately quite pleased with. The bruising on his face had all but disappeared and he looked dignified. Once again, he reminded himself that tolerating Miss Wakechild’s eccentricities was a small price to pay for a peaceful month when he’d otherwise be dwelling on the future.

“What are you thinking?” Miss Wakechild asked.

He turned his head and bestowed a smile on the sisters.

“I’m thinking it’s a beautiful day.”

It was true: sunlight streamed through the elm trees, casting black shadows over the gravelled pathways and boxy hedges. At the end of the rose garden was an ornamental fountain and beyond that a small gazebo in the shape of a Roman temple. A gentle breeze made the branches of the trees sway and Ned was hit with the longing to feel it on his skin. It was considerably more inviting than staying indoors.

“Why don’t we go outside and practise promenading around the ornamental lake? We don’t need to do this inside.”

Miss Wakechild walked over to stand at his side. “I agree. Let’s go outside and talk as we walk.”

Ned met her eyes and smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t take much persuasion once you saw how fine it is. Go find your bonnets and whatever else you need and I’ll meet you both out in the gardens in a few minutes.”

Miss Wakechild tidied the dolls away, but Lady Griggs continued sorting through her box of embroidery silks, then began threading a new needle with sage green thread.

“Aren’t you going to come with us?” Miss Wakechild asked.

“No. I’m comfortable here and the light is very good at the moment. Besides, it is likely to rain within the next half hour.”

Miss Wakechild glanced back at the sky. “There isn’t a cloud to be seen.”

“There never is until the moment when there are hundreds of them and the heavens open. The weather changes very quickly here. I’d take galoshes if I were you.”

Miss Wakechild wrinkled her nose. “A parasol and shawl will suffice. I suppose I should go summon Dottie to chaperone us. How irritating. I wanted her to stitch the rip in my nightgown but she’ll have to trail around after us.”

Lady Griggs looked out of the window again. “I can see you perfectly well from here if you need a chaperone. Lady Violet will be arriving at the end of the month and I want to be able to show her how far I’ve got with my embroidery. I’m sure Mr Blake is perfectly trustworthy, aren’t you, Mr Blake?”

Ned smiled serenely and put his hands together as if he was about to pray, radiating dependability.

“Perfectly so. In fact, it’s rather insulting, don’t you think, to assume that young people will get up to all sorts of mischief if they’re not being watched at every opportunity?”

“Yes, I do,” Miss Wakechild answered primly. “This need for chaperones is most tiresome. I believe we could spend hours together and the thought of anything scandalous would not even cross our minds.”

“Quite.” Ned gave a polite nod to Lady Griggs and left the room. Whatever his faults, he was no debaucher of young women, even ones whose expressive eyes were downright hard to resist. She didn’t have to be quite so certain though, did she? A silly idea occurred to him. He went to his room and dressed in his smartest coat and a top hat, added kid gloves to the outfit, and picked up a walking cane.

By the time he arrived in the gardens, he expected Miss Wakechild to be waiting but she was nowhere in sight. Never mind, the air in the garden was fragranced with summer roses. Bushes of red and pink blooms alternated in a chequerboard pattern set among small hedges and Ned spent a few pleasant minutes investigating the contrasting smells attributable to the different hues of petals. It was very pleasing to the senses and a tonic to the soul after the weeks he had spent in Liverpool.

He had walked halfway down the path when he heard the light crunch of a foot on the gravel behind him and turned. Miss Wakechild had arrived. She was wearing a pink straw boater with a large green ribbon and a matching pink and green shawl. In her hand she twirled a green and pink parasol.

Ned stopped walking and let his face take on an expression of astonishment that was not entirely simulated.