A Regency Earl's Pleasure: The Earl Plays With Fire / Society's Most Scandalous Rake. Isabelle Goddard

donned a robe of figured cream lace over an underdress of soft amber silk. Her hair was brushed into shining auburn curls and threaded through with a simple cream ribbon. She felt instinctively that this was an important day and she wanted to look her best in meeting it head on. A newly discovered sense of purpose had brought back colour to her face and the porcelain cheeks now sported a delicate glow. She looked as fresh and as young as the spring morning into which the sisters now ventured.

      Sophia glared at her in annoyance. A resurgent Christabel was not what she wanted. Sir Julian had mentioned at the rout that though he must give immediate attention to business brought back from Rosings, he would be riding in the park this morning and hoped to see both herself and her sister there. Sophia was under no illusions as to whose company he really sought and had hoped to intercept him before Christabel once more entered his orbit. She was anxious to exploit their friendship of two nights ago in any way she could and her sister’s radiant presence would hardly further her plan.

      Once out of the house Benedict suddenly remembered a prior engagement and swiftly excused himself. He had made a casual promise to Domino to ride with her this morning and this was likely to be more entertaining than plodding dutifully after his sisters’ carriage. He was also feeling a little guilty at having abandoned the girl so cavalierly at the Seftons’.

      Sophia was pleased to see him go. If she could only think of a pretext to lose Christabel too, she would be free to seek out Sir Julian and fascinate him as she knew she could. But Christabel was going to be difficult to evade; her sister had opted to take the reins, the groom by her side, and further frustration swiftly followed when they encountered the Misses Banham waiting for them at the north gate of the park. Annoyingly they had remembered the arrangement to meet and while Christabel held the horses steady, they were soon clambering noisily into the carriage. They were arrayed in matching dresses of sprig muslin and each carried a frilled parasol in a contrasting colour. They positioned themselves on either side of Sophia, like two chattering bookends. Laughing and giggling their way into the park, they exclaimed at Christabel’s skill at driving the carriage through such busy thoroughfares and asserted with loud squeals their complete confidence that she could be trusted to tool them around the park without mishap. Most of what passed for conversation between them—the latest scurrilous on dits circulating in town—went unanswered, but since they needed no audience but each other, they were not disconcerted by their hosts’ silence.

      When they’d finally exhausted current gossip, they turned their attention to their companions. They complimented the Tallis sisters on their looks, their dresses, their carriage. Everything that could be praised, was praised. Unusually for Sophia she seemed not to notice their flattering remarks even when they were particularly lavish in their admiration of her blue satin. Christabel thought she seemed disturbed, almost excited, looking nervously from right to left and then behind, sometimes even hanging over the side of the carriage to gain a better view. It hardly seemed likely, but was it possible that Sophia had made an assignation with someone?

      ‘There’s Lucy,’ the elder Miss Banham suddenly shrieked. ‘And with Petronella!’

      ‘Our cousins,’ the younger sister explained to the startled Tallises. ‘Miss Tallis, Miss Sophia, would you mind awfully if we were to get down? It’s an age since we’ve seen our cousins and there’s so much to tell!’

      The Tallis sisters readily assented. They were both heartily weary of the clamour that had accompanied their drive around the park. Sophia’s face became intent. She had now only to free herself from her sister’s company and she could at last seek Sir Julian alone. But nothing happened to aid her plan and just a few minutes later they saw him riding towards them.

      He hailed them with pleasure, reining in his horse by the carriage to greet Christabel for the first time in nearly a week. For a while he sat silently gazing at her. He had forgotten just how beautiful she was and was suffused with eagerness to make his declaration and possess her as his wife. Belatedly he remembered her sister’s presence.

      ‘Good morning, Miss Sophia. I trust you suffered no ill from your exertions at the rout?’

      Sophia smiled a little sourly. Sir Julian seemed not to notice and immediately turned his attention back to Christabel.

      ‘I was most sorry to hear of your indisposition, Miss Tallis, but I see from your looks that you are now fully recovered. I had hoped to see you at the rout but in your absence your little sister kept me on my toes.’

      ‘So I understand, Sir Julian.’ Christabel smiled, her green eyes warm and welcoming. ‘And how did your business at Rosings prosper?’

      ‘It went well, plenty to do, you know, as always, but also plenty of time to plan.’ He looked suddenly serious. ‘I am most pleased to find you here this morning. There is something particular I wish to discuss with you. I wonder if you would do me the honour of walking a short way with me?’

      She knew that this was the moment that had threatened for so long. Now that it had finally come, she felt calm and resigned. This was something she must do for herself and her family. It was no good thinking that a dashing white knight was going to ride to her rescue. Those were the foolish daydreams of an immature girl. This was the reality—a comfortable life with a comfortable husband. She allowed Sir Julian to hand her down from the carriage and stood waiting for him. He was about to join her when Sophia indicated that she also wished to alight. Sir Julian was surprised by this lack of tact, but, polite as always, he carefully handed the younger girl down and they began walking together over the luxuriant carpet of grass from which the dew had only just disappeared.

      At that moment Benedict and Domino were manoeuvring their horses through the busy West End traffic. Pedlars, carts, every kind of carriage thronged the roads leading to St James’s and all their attention was taken up with gaining a safe passage through the maelstrom of noise and bustle. Twenty long minutes later they finally reached the safety of the park and trotted smartly through its eastern entrance. Benedict glanced briefly at his companion. He was not the most acute observer, but she seemed unusually subdued. At first he had put it down to the late nights and this morning’s early rising, but as they rode, he became increasingly aware of tension within the slight figure alongside him. After a few abortive attempts at conversation he gave up talking and they rode in silence.

      The air was still and cool and shafts of sunlight filtered through the newly leafing trees overhead. As they pushed their way further into this small island of nature, Domino decided to make her confession. Her frustration at Richard’s continued blindness had been replaced at the rout party by a new fascination. In that hot, enclosed little room she had been captivated by the ebb and flow of changing fortunes, the excitement of placing her stake, the rush of adrenaline as the cards sped from the faro box and the thrill of delight when the pile of rouleaus in front of her began to grow.

      Not so delighted, though, when they began to disappear. But then Lord Moncaster had come to her rescue, had advanced her some of his own rouleaus for no more payment than her handkerchief. In the thrill of the game it had seemed perfectly normal for her to hand over this small personal possession. But the sly looks the other players exchanged alerted her to the fact that his lordship’s offer was hardly usual. He’d behaved impeccably, though, even advancing more tokens without demanding anything further from her. At least for the moment. He’d said that he would think of some way she could repay him, but that she wasn’t to worry her pretty head. He was a rich man, a few losses meant nothing to him. At these last comments Domino’s immediate neighbour, apparently so correct and punctilious, had smirked knowingly. She caught both his grimace and Leo Moncaster’s answering smile and a vague discomfort became a pressing anxiety to leave.

      ‘What do you know of Lord Moncaster?’ she asked suddenly.

      Benedict looked at her cautiously, trying to gauge how much he should say. ‘Not a lot,’ was his unhelpful reply.

      He saw her biting her lip and relented a little, ‘Why do you ask?’

      ‘Only that I’m interested in the people I met at the Seftons’. I understand it was Lord Moncaster who held the faro bank.’

      ‘He often does. He’s a very rich man.’