Chapter 19 - GEORGINA—A RIDE IN THE PUBLIC

Chapter 19

GEORGINA—A RIDE IN THE PUBLIC

Covering for my sister Scarlett’s sudden disappearance—she’d had Mr. Thom drive her to some lecture—I insisted we take Lydia with us to our first public appearance in Hyde Park.

We wouldn’t have to pay for someone to watch her, and Katherine and I could keep our eyes on her.

Last night was a bad one for the little girl as she sweated and coughed until the sun began to rise. Her fever broke this morning.

By noon, she was sore but determined to go see her duke. Who could stop the recovered ball of energy?

Our little Lydia seemed overjoyed to see him, hugging his legs like he’d disappear. In this grand carriage, she sat between the duke and Katherine and wore a blue bonnet on her sleek dark hair, nestled in a thick coat to keep her warm. The spring chill commanded the morning.

The little girl looked so happy and leaned on him. He didn’t seem to mind. The man rallied in her attention, or was it because the connection annoyed Katherine?

“Smile, Lady Hampton,” the duke said. “You seem uncomfortable, as if you’ve been forced into my carriage.”

“It’s an open landau, Your Grace. Everyone can see.”

“That’s the point, dorogaya. That tawdry artist Gilroy has been in my home and chosen to make a mockery of an adorable couple. A potential love like this shouldn’t be denigrated. It must be celebrated.”

Adorable? A tall Meg and a shy, stocky composer? Maybe. I wanted to say fake couple, but I understood his point.

Lydia climbed onto his lap. “There’s Lord Mark.”

The little girl waved. Her antics placed her all over the duke, knocking off his hat, exposing his curled, onyx hair.

“Lydia, get off him.” I tried to coax her to be calm, but she wrapped her arms about his neck. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Nyet, my lovely dear.” His arms enfolded about her and he chuckled. “Ah. Happy . . . warm, little one. Are you well?”

“Oh, yes, My Grace. Mine.” She shot a petulant pout to me, and then Katherine. “All better now that I’m with you.”

He made her settle, like a doting big brother. “No map adventure in my library, my little one, if you don’t mind Miss Wilcox or Lady Hampton. And we must have our map time, my newest dorogaya . . . mine.”

Katherine’s cheeks darkened, and I was confident that “dorogaya” wasn’t an insult but something loving like “sweetheart.” Had the duke been openly praising my sister all this time?

“Princess hour. Princess hour.” Lydia winced as she rubbed her hands together. “I’ll be good.”

Katherine glanced the other way. Suddenly, the Serpentine, the big lake in the park, was of more interest.

My gaze swiveled back to my approaching music teacher. Strong steps in dusty boots, loose cravat, carrying a satchel surely brimming with organized papers, he walked with zeal, even pride, to come to us, a carriage full of people of color.

As he came closer, I saw his handsome face, his focused dark blue eyes, which appeared intense and lovely, and the laugh lines that led to big dimples. If I were vain and armed with this newly discovered appreciation of a casual, confident man of the arts, I think I could agree with the label adorable fake couple.

Lord Mark tipped his hat, then climbed into the carriage and sat next to me. “Fine morning.”

Lydia doffed the duke’s hat. He laughed and signaled for his driver to begin.

My music teacher drew from his bag a gold tube and held it close to his wide chest as if it were his treasured sheet music. “I’ve brought my trusty pocket scope to hopefully see some birds. How are you, Miss Wilcox?”

“Fine,” Lydia and I said at the same time.

“Ah, Miss Lydia Wilcox. I meant to address your sister, but I’m glad you are well.”

“Yes. No more coughing. I’m feeling fine.”

“Little one, you have been sick?” The duke held the child up like he could spot that she’d had a cold.

“Just a little, but nothing out of the ordinary for the spring, Your Grace,” Katherine said. “Sniffles and a fever.”

The duke squinted at her. His brow creased as he settled the child next to him. After touching her forehead, he made sure her crooked bonnet was secure. “A cold head can get you sicker, little one. You’re feeling a little hot now.”

Lydia put her head against his shoulder.

His gaze at Katherine hardened. My heart sank as I thought, Great, another man repulsed by a sick child.

“She’s a little warm, Lady Hampton.” His tone sounded stiff, even more accusatory. “Perhaps we should’ve deferred.”

My sister looked panicked, but said, “She’s fine. She refused to miss today.”

“All the beautiful flowers can make for scratchy throats,” Lydia said. “But I’m not sick anymore. No missing this. I didn’t wanna not see you.”

“She does get sick often in the spring, Your Grace.” I added this to try to make the duke look easier, but little Lydia was sick often throughout the year. I always thought of Mama when the child didn’t feel well. I bet Katherine did too. “But she was dancing this morning, like always when she comes to see you.”

He put his arm about Lydia and again kissed her brow. “I’m glad you are here too. I would make the world stop for you.”

The happiness bubbling in the child’s eyes brought tears to mine. Katherine’s too.

“And I have so much I want to tell you. I drew the map. And . . . there was something else . . .” Lydia shivered. “I’ll remember.”

“Well, you will tell me later.” The duke took off his scarf and wound it about her shoulders. Then he put a finger to his lips motioning to Lydia to let me and Lord Mark chat.

My music teacher seemed distracted, gazing toward the plane trees with his scope to his eyes. In Hyde Park, so many of the trees stood tall with the bark flaking off like camouflage.

“If you are not going to pay attention to Miss Wilcox, Sebastian,” the duke said, “we could’ve postponed.”

“Bird-watching with my faux fiancée will be my pleasure, Torrance.”

The duke tapped his lips. “The last time you had that pocket scope, you were telling me of birds and the music room at Kenwood.”

Mark’s mouth opened and shut. No words came out, but he shook his head.

He gave a loud sigh. “Being here where things are true, not painted, Torrance, is why I prefer Hyde Park than a stuffy estate.”

“No inside.” Lydia coughed and said it again. “We wanted to go for a drive with the duke today.”

“Settle, sweetie,” Katherine said. “You’re always a little irritable when you don’t feel well.”

Lydia pushed my sister’s hand away and clung to the duke’s arm. “I’m fine. I’ll be good.”

One would think Katherine beat her by the way she shivered and protested.

“You’re with me, my sweet.” The duke imitated Katherine’s voice. “And that means you’ll be good.”

“Yes. Yes.”

He turned to Lord Mark and me. “Why don’t you two take a walk, then come back. Then you can talk. We can chaperone from here and meet you at the Serpentine.”

Katherine shot heated glances at me, but when my music teacher grasped my hand, I couldn’t see anything but the path called Rotten Row.

Bright yellow daffodils led us to another arbor of plane trees. These had more peeling bark that exposed the tender, lighter skin underneath.

“Do you think, Lord Mark, that these trees shed secrets to cast them away or do they expose them to the world?”

“And good afternoon to you too, Miss Wilcox. I see we start immediately with your questions.”

“Well, you know me. And I don’t know how long you’ll stay?”

His brow furrowed.

“Use your scope. Look at the stares.”

The man didn’t take my hint to look at the passersby who glared or those who casually peered our way. He motioned for me to follow him down the path.

I did and tried to focus on nothing but the flowers and the towering planes.

When ten minutes or so passed with no talking, I stopped. “The trees seem brave, sir. Braver than you and I.”

He worked his jaw, like it had become stiff. “Trees don’t speak. They could be petrified.”

“Still braver. We’re walking side by side, not touching. Their leaves touch. They share the lane, and we merely travel along it with a wide gap between us. I’d say they are braver.”

He gaped at me. It felt as if this was the first time he’d allowed himself to do so for more than a glance. Did he approve of my straw bonnet with rose-colored trim, my pale blue gown with a matching ribbon in my hem? Mama’s trunk and Scarlett’s talent for sewing made this outfit stylish and well fitted to my curves.

“Nothing wrong with a little quiet, Georgina. You get to hear the birds and how the wind talks to the branches.”

Mark moved a little closer, and then began walking.

Deeper in this section of Hyde Park, with no viewing eyes, he stopped again. “How are you this morning? I had to pretend I didn’t see the vile cartoon at the coffeehouse I visited this morning.”

“Oh. My sister Scarlett said the Gilroy cartoon was littered on a bench at the Royal Society.”

“How did she go there? I thought it was just for men. Maybe I misheard something Livingston, my science friend, has said.”

He folded his arms. “Miss Scarlett Wilcox does seem to get out a great deal. And for a younger sister, that’s impressive.”

Oh. Oh. I’d said too much. “Um. She visited someone or something. But she was mortified for you and your family as well as ours, and she let us all know.”

“What did she say?”

“Oh, nothing too important. Something along the lines that this was a defeat for women all over the world. I heard words such as misogynistic and farce and why would I have to be portrayed as a freed slave.”

Looking at it again, with the Blackamoor women saying “Massa,” I realized this was worse. Oh, goodness. “Gilroy drew me as an enslaved woman with her slaver.”

My limbs froze. The stories my father told me of the time before—when he had been enslaved, before earning money for his freedom—washed over me. Wanting to vomit, I shivered and looked away.

Mark took my hand. He wrapped it about his forearm. “Steady yourself.”

He was well muscled in his dark emerald coat. “Sounds as if she gave you a truthful mouthful.”

“Scarlett is very matter-of-fact. She doesn’t temper her opinion. If she could be a man of science, well woman of science, she’d be one. And as far as her critique of Gilroy’s horrid drawing, I can’t fault her logic.”

“Umm. Neither can I.” He led me off the path and into a grove of trees, then released me. With a finger to his lips, he took his treasured tube and looked through it.

Without a word, he drew my chin to the direction he’d spied, then put his viewing barrel to my eye. “Look up,” he whispered. “Do you see it?”

I did. A cute little creature, a bird with a yellow breast and bright blue feathers on his head. “So pretty.”

“You are. And it is. He looks a little thin. He’ll fatten up from the insects buzzing around all the flowers in the park.”

Reaching for the scope, his sleeve cut across my bosom. Though the touch was brief, my breath seized. I didn’t realize how close we were watching birds.

I had no complaints and looked at him describing his favorite habit.

“Look at the yellow feathers upon her breast . . . stomach . . . the bird’s stomach.”

My laughter made him relax, and he seemed unbothered that we stood so close, that there was no beginning or ending to our shadows. If anyone saw, there would be no doubts now. We were together, and that niggling feeling that Lord Mark was only pretending to be comfortable with me, a girl of a lower station, from the other side of the Thames, went away.

“Mark? What do you call the little fellow?”

“A tit.”

Blinking, I backed away. “Excuse me?”

“Not a teat. Not you, yours. Hmmm. The tit. It’s the bird. Oh, my goodness, never noticed. Well, I did notice.” He wiped at his mouth, then pointed. “It’s a yellow-and-green tit. That’s what it’s called.”

His brows rose. “I’d never call you tit or any kind of saucy woman.”

When I started to giggle, he released his breath.

“Sort of a tit for tat, my lord. I know you’d not be disrespectful. You’re a gentleman.”

“I am, but I do sometimes wonder what it would be like to be a rake or rakish. Dashing as Lord Byron—I wonder if that would make the notes flow.”

“You, a rake?” I shook my head. “No, not you.”

His face darkened, then he heaved a little sigh and turned his face to the sky. “Perhaps that’s why you kissed me. I radiate safe and boring.”

Did the sentiment of being kind hurt his feelings? He was kind. I did feel safe with him. “Then I’m the same, for I’m enjoying this walk.”

“I’d like to think, if we’d met under different circumstances, that we’d be friends.”

“We are friends now. Well, that’s what I feel.” I adjusted my bonnet and spun to the right. Didn’t fully catch him saying the same.

“You are a puzzle, Georgina. One I enjoy figuring out. Yes, we’re friends. And I like when you’re bold, when you’re funny, and when you are shy around everyone but me.”

“I’m not shy around my sisters or the duke. Little Lydia definitely wouldn’t call me that.”

He lightly put his fingers to my chin, turning my gaze to his, then tilting my head. Mark slipped the scope into my hand again. “Take another look before he flies away, and then we’ll continue our walk.”

The little fellow squawked, and then flew away. I handed him back the scope. “I see why you love bird-watching.”

Part genius, part recluse, part nature lover, and from the kiss I was desperate to remember—a lover’s lover. Mark held out his arm and escorted me among the tattling plane trees, showing me more birds. His attentive gaze and our shared laugh almost made me forget about the couples we met along the way, walking or in carriages, who stopped and stared.