A Virtuous Lady (6 page)

"And you are a fool as well as a cynic," retorted the Viscount.

Ravensworth was silent. At length he muttered, "We'll see." Lord Avery said nothing.

After a moment, Ravensworth negligently flicked the ash from his cigar into the stand by his elbow. He leaned his head against the back of his chair and regarded the fog in his study with a frown of distaste. 'The atmosphere in here is intolerable. Why don't we get a breath of fresh air?" He stubbed out the cigar and stood up with resolution.

"Where to?" asked Avery, collecting his overcoat from his lordship's valet, Denby.
"Hyde Park?"

"No," mused Ravensworth, rearranging his impeccable
neckcloth
.
"Farther afield.
How would you like to tool my team around Richmond? I have some friends there I haven't seen in an age."

Lord Avery grinned broadly. "I'm game. Are your friends related to the Richmond
Grenfells
by any chance?"

Ravensworth clapped him on the shoulder.
"One and the same, dear boy, one and the same."

Richmond Park, that vast tract of land which Charles I had set aside as a Royal Chase, was within a few minutes' drive of
Broomhill
House. It was not to be expected that any member of the beau monde would be encountered so early in the day, for Richmond was a full seven miles from London and only the most enthusiastic town whips and riders
ventured so far afield and, in general, not before late of the afternoon.

Briony and Harriet did not precisely have the park to themselves for the residents of Richmond and neighboring
Twickenham
were
not slow to avail themselves of so attractive a wilderness, but in an area of over two thousand acres, riders and equipages were few and far between.

After a protracted drive in Harriet's curricle, with each girl taking her turn at the ribbons under the watchful eye of the mounted groom, they came to a halt beside a stand of poplars, and Harriet instructed Evans to put Duster through his paces for a good half hour. The groom obeyed with alacrity, leaving the two girls in the stationary curricle enjoying the sight of a herd of timid deer in the near distance.

"Do you mind if I smoke?"

Briony was not sure that she had heard aright. "I beg your pardon?"

Harriet repeated the question.

"Well, I don't see any harm in it," Briony replied cautiously.

"Good," said Harriet, withdrawing a slim cheroot from the depths of her reticule. "I don't indulge in the house because Papa disapproves. But on occasion, I enjoy the luxury. Would you care to join me?"

Briony demurred but watched with keen interest as her friend rubbed the cheroot between her
mittened
fingers and put it to her ear. The sound seemed to satisfy her, for in the next instant she had lit it and was inhaling deeply. Briony watched the cloud of smoke issuing from her cousin's mouth as she exhaled.

"Blowing a cloud!" said Briony knowingly.

Harriet laughed. "You know the gentleman's cant, I see. Vernon, I suppose?"

Briony nodded.

A curricle approached and Harriet and Briony watched its progress with mild interest. Briony observed the occupants
idly—two young gentlemen of quality, she noted, one as dark as the other was fair. As the curricle slowed and drew to a halt, her eyes focused on the dark-haired stranger. He seemed vaguely familiar.

A many-caped driving coat was slung negligently over his broad shoulders, and as she watched, he discarded his hat and gauntlets and ran a careless hand through black curly hair. His face was tanned deeply by the sun and his lips, which began to smile in greeting, softened what might otherwise have been a forbidding countenance. Briony was not vain but at that moment she knew that in her modest but spanking, up-to-the-mark green velvet pelisse and matching bonnet trimmed with ribbons she had never looked prettier, and she was glad.

"It's Avery," wailed Harriet, referring to the fair-haired gentleman. "Here, take this!" The next instant, Briony found the smoking cheroot thrust into her hand. She held it gingerly between thumb and forefinger.

Lord Ravensworth called out, "Miss Grenfell, how do you do? I take it Sir John has forgiven your last disastrous drive? How do you manage to twist him round your thumb?" He glanced at Lord Avery and grinned.

Briony recognized the voice and felt her heart beat just a little faster. She watched as Ravensworth tooled the curricle closer, his eyes quite openly appraising her person. Briony was a modest girl but she was not a prude. Since she was an innocent, blushes very rarely stained her cheeks. Nor did she feel compelled to drop her gaze when a gentleman stared boldly at her. Her lack of experience with gentlemen of a predatory nature ensured that
Briony's
manners were natural and lacking in affectation. She was conscious of Ravensworth's regard and gave him back look for look.

"May I introduce . . ." began a flustered Harriet.

"My nemesis," interrupted Ravensworth, suddenly recognizing
Briony's
clear-eyed,
unabashed
, steady gaze. "I
would recognize those eyes anywhere."

"My cousin, Miss Briony Langland," finished Harriet. "Are you acquainted?"

"We have not been formally introduced.
Ravensworth, at your service, ma'am.
And this is my friend, Lord Avery."

Briony gave a civil nod in their direction. Ravensworth, remembering the night of their first encounter and her confession that his kiss had set her to tingling, smiled a slow smile. It was wasted on Briony. She was acutely conscious of only one thing—the cheroot which was burning steadily between her fingers. Her hand gave an involuntary twitch.

"Blowing a cloud, Miss Langland?" Ravensworth inquired on a note of censure. "
D'you
know
what you're doing with that thing? Have a care, or you'll set yourself on fire."

The note in Lord Avery's voice was nothing less than churlish. "I presume that Miss Grenfell has been instructing you in all the accomplishments of a lady of quality?"

Briony observed the mounting color in her cousin's cheeks and a sense of injury on Harriet's behalf rose in her breast. How dare these gentlemen condemn in Harriet what they condoned in practice? There was no harm in it; no need for guilt or shame, she reasoned.

"Would you care to join me?" she asked politely, remembering what she supposed was the correct etiquette for smoking.

"Thank you, no," responded Ravensworth with exaggerated civility, "but don't let us interrupt a pleasure which you obviously enjoy."

Briony felt compelled to continue. She pursed her rosy lips and with the elegant motion of the wrist which she had observed in Harriet, brought the cheroot to her mouth. She inhaled and exhaled almost on the same breath. Smoking, she discovered, was not to her taste, but she was not about to give her opinion unless invited. She tried again.

"Well done, Miss Langland," said Ravensworth blandly.

"At least for a first try.
Now that you have proved how audacious you are, why don't you get rid of that ridiculous thing?"

The remark goaded Briony into further indiscretion. She tried again. Unfortunately, she made an error in judgment and inhaled too deeply. She gave a little cough, and then another.
Once started she could not stop.
She sputtered and gasped for air until the tears ran down her cheeks. How Ravensworth happened to be in the curricle with her and Harriet on the grass verge she could not tell. But she gratefully submitted to his ministrations.

"
Th
—
thank
you," she croaked hoarsely, still wracked by the occasional cough.

"Don't mention it," he replied, all politeness, drying her wet cheeks with his large, linen handkerchief. "Harriet, be a good girl and ride with Avery," he instructed. "Someone has to be responsible for you girls. Avery!" he addressed his friend. "Let's get these damsels home."

Briony retained Ravensworth's mangled handkerchief and held it firmly to her watery nose. By the time she had fully recovered her breath, she was conscious that Avery's curricle with Harriet in it had disappeared. The foul-tasting cigar was still clutched tightly to her bosom. She stole a glance at Ravensworth and was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"Now, Miss Langland, oblige me, if you please, and rid yourself of that odious object."

Briony smiled shyly up at him and wondered at the stricken look which suddenly came over his lordship's face. She hastened to obey, and carelessly flicked the offending object out of the curricle. The cheroot made an arc high in the air and Briony watched in horrified fascination as it came to rest on the rump of one of the impatient, fretting horses harnessed to the curricle.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then all was pandemonium. The startled horse reared in its traces and set the other one off. With a terrified bray they bolted, dragging the rocking curricle furiously in their wake. Ravensworth hung desperately to the reins with one hand and with the other grabbed wildly for Briony to prevent her from falling out.

The carriage swayed dangerously from side to side as it bumped over every rock, rut, and pothole, and looked to Briony as if it were on the verge of breaking up. She clung blindly to Ravensworth's protective arm and closed her eyes in terror. Briony prepared to meet her Maker.

Many miles later, when she felt the violent motion of the curricle slacken, she slowly opened her eyes. The horses were running themselves to a standstill, and Ravensworth, grim-faced and stern, finally reined in. She waited, white-faced, for his fury to descend upon her. With trembling fingers, she adjusted her bonnet and straightened her pelisse. She clasped her hands together to still their involuntary shaking.

When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "Are you all right, Miss Langland?"

"A bit shaken, nothing more, thank you," she replied breathlessly, willing her breathing to a more regular pace.

He removed his cape and flung it over her shoulders. "Here, this will keep you warm. You've had a shocking experience. You're a brave little thing."

Briony spoke through chattering teeth. "It's not the first time I've been in a runaway carriage. Please, see to the horses first. I feel responsible, and would not want them to suffer further on my account."

Ravensworth disregarded her request and extracted a small flask from the inner pocket of his coat. He removed the cap and put the flask to her lips. "Drink it," he ordered. Briony hesitated. "Drink it," he said in a tone that brooked no refusal. Briony obeyed. She felt a searing heat in her throat and sputtered. In a moment her teeth stopped chattering.

When Ravensworth saw that she was quite recovered, he gave the reins into her hands and, jumping lightly from the
curricle, went to examine the steaming animals. He was back in a moment. "Not a scratch on '
em
. We've had a fortunate escape. Better let them rest for a while."

Briony began, with some dignity, to offer him her apologies and thanks but he cut her off abruptly and she fell silent.

"Do I understand, Miss Langland, that you are a Quaker?"

"My mother was a Quaker," corrected Briony, "and I try to follow Mama's . .
.principles
."

"I wonder at your smoking. Do Quaker ladies smoke?"

"Oh there are no rules and regulations. We each must follow our own conscience in matters of conduct," she explained seriously.

"How very convenient!"

She smiled shyly at the jibe.
"No, not for Quakers.
Oh, for those who have not taken the trouble to develop a conscience, perhaps it is convenient. But not for me."

"I see. Are you implying that I have no conscience?" he asked quizzically.

"Have you?" she returned boldly, remembering the scene of seduction in the library.

"Not much! Does that trouble you?"

There was a pause. "Yes, it troubles me," said Briony gravely.

"Oh? Why?" He saw her doubtful look and he chuckled. "Don't wrap it up in clean linen for my benefit. I know you to be a lady who is frank to a fault."

Briony was goaded into a reply. "If what you say is true, and I can scarcely believe it, you would be a scoundrel.
Are
you a scoundrel, Lord Ravensworth?"

He laughed. "What do you think?"

"I?" said Briony, surprised at his question. "I do not know you. How can I say?"

"Miss Langland," began Ravensworth more seriously, "I beg you will not form a hasty opinion of my character from
our first, unfortunate meeting." He coughed to cover his embarrassment. The young lady beside him, he noted dourly, gave no indication of being in the least embarrassed by a subject which all gently nurtured females ought to find highly indelicate.