‘Aunt Dorothy tires easily, too,’ Kitty added hastily. ‘And though it has been many years since my uncle passed away, she still considers herself in full mourning.’
The path widened and at last the five were able to ride together, Archie chivvying his mount up to ride beside Kitty.
‘Would a quiet dinner with Mama really be so tiring?’ he said to her, doubtfully.
‘What is this?’ Lady Amelia demanded, now in earshot.
‘Archie is attempting to invite Miss Talbot’s aunt to dine with us tomorrow evening,’ her eldest brother explained. ‘He has not yet proved successful.’
‘Oh, we cannot,’ Cecily piped up. ‘We promised to accompany Aunt Dorothy to Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens upon tomorrow evening – don’t you remember, Kitty?’
Kitty could have slapped her quite happily.
‘Ah yes,’ Lord Radcliffe murmured. ‘I had heard the Pleasure Gardens were becoming quite popular with mourners.’
‘Famous!’ Archie expostulated. ‘We shall accompany you!’
Kitty could not refuse – could not think what other excuse she could make – so merely changed the subject, hoping the matter would drop. The rest of the morning passed without rancour, and Kitty could almost forget herself enough to find enjoyment in the de Lacys’ company, as they cantered along grassy tracks and took daring jumps over hedgerows. There was not much opportunity for further conversation, and Kitty was relieved to have the break. They rested their mounts for a time at Wimbledon, partaking in refreshment at a local inn. Kitty prompted Cecily to relay her opinion of William Cowper’s oeuvre. Kitty did not understand who this man was – or what oeuvre even meant – but knew the associated lecture well, and as predicted it lasted quite almost the whole return journey.
Back at Grosvenor Square, Kitty refused Lady Radcliffe’s offer of refreshments, hoping that without further conversation, the dreaded Vauxhall Gardens plan might lapse into obscurity. But Archie, quite stricken with guilt at having neglected his romantic duty so severely, was not to be fobbed off, and he put the suggestion to his mother immediately.
‘Oh splendid!’ Lady Radcliffe said, clapping her hands merrily. ‘Let us all go – we can hire a box!’
‘You are not, perhaps, feeling too tired?’ Kitty asked desperately.
‘No, I am quite well now!’ Lady Radcliffe declared brightly – the healthy old boot, Kitty thought mutinously.
Their fate was sealed, and Kitty had no choice but to surrender to it. She painted a smile on her face as she bade farewell to Lady Radcliffe, Lady Amelia and Mr de Lacy – who pressed her hand with meaningful warmth – but it quite slipped from her face as she turned to Radcliffe.
‘Until tomorrow, Miss Talbot,’ he said as he bent his head over her hand.
‘Yes, until then,’ she agreed.
They paused there for a beat, looking at each other with mutual calculation. It occurred to them both, then – though of course they did not know it – that they might equally have agreed to pistols at dawn.
Radcliffe found himself, steering his curricle through London’s traffic, yearning for his father’s presence. Having now met Miss Talbot, he could appreciate the value of the former Lord Radcliffe’s cold fortitude in the face of threats to his family’s prestige in a way he never had before. It would be of course only the family’s reputation that he would be concerned with – not, as James was, with its happiness – and yet, he would undoubtedly have known what steps were necessary to squash the threat, all without breaking stride. As de Lacys had done for centuries, after all.
Whereas Radcliffe, in this moment, doubted that he himself was equal to this task. To have underestimated his opponent so thoroughly was nothing short of galling, and his father would surely （had he been alive） have lost even more respect for his firstborn （were that possible）。 Radcliffe could almost hear him as if it were he, and not Lawrence – his tiger, perched on the groom’s seat and watching Radcliffe’s handling of the reins with an expert eye – seated behind him.
I do find it damning, his father would no doubt say, that not even the diplomatic career that I arranged for you has given you the slightest degree of competency in your lordship. You always were so terribly wasteful.
Radcliffe was not sure exactly how his short-lived career as an attaché at the Congress of Vienna should have made him an experienced ridder of fortune-hunters – though it was true that Miss Talbot seemed just as committed to her landgrabbing as any Foreign Secretary there – but no doubt his father would be rolling in his grave nonetheless. Radcliffe’s even shorter experience of warfare that had followed – a career progression that had incensed his father beyond measure – was no help to him now, either. Of course, on the battlefield, Radcliffe would have been free to shoot Miss Talbot, a not unappealing prospect. He entertained himself for a moment by imagining this, and then moved on to remembering the war room at Waterloo, to the formidable figure of the Iron Duke puzzling over his foe’s mind, his motivations, his psychology.