The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series)(59)
Well behaved, not prone to ill temper, the child turned obediently and walked to Sherbourne’s side, gazing up at him with round eyes. “Sir, what is an ice?”
“It is a treat all boys love a great deal, including this one.”
“Do girls like it, as well?”
“Oh, indeed. I daresay your mother will enjoy one along with us, will you not, Lady Bonderant?”
“I may enjoy two of them, my lord.”
They continued along the path beside the river and he was aware of the curiosity of friends and acquaintances who drove or rode past on the park drive nearby. Tomorrow, he would accompany Lucy as she made calls to announce that she was in town, and open to invitations. She’d no doubt receive one for Twykham’s ball, to be held tomorrow night in honor of his first anniversary of marriage to Miss Moring. Sherbourne wondered if the fellow would stay awake long enough to entertain his guests.
He would escort Lucy and dance with her and assist her as she took a look about at the eligible gentlemen in attendance. Perhaps Wrotham? No, he was a bit stiff. And not in a good way. He considered Holtzbrink and dismissed him out of turn. The man had a predilection for lightskirts. Lucy’s husband couldn’t expire himself anywhere but in her bed. It would be grossly unfair to her. Dillingham? Hmm, now there was a possibility. But he sometimes had an annoying demeanor, and his speech was atrocious, for he was wont to spray those he conversed with. Too wet by half.
Sherbourne considered his own sons and set the thought aside almost immediately. He couldn’t sit at table with Lucy in future, knowing one of his sons was intimate with her. It would drive him mad, and perhaps drive a wedge between him and one of his sons. No, he’d ruined the chance for a match between Lucy and any of his boys the instant he led her up the stairs and down the hall to his chamber.
He couldn’t be sorry. He’d found her desirable from the moment he laid eyes on her this morning. Had she not insisted he kiss her, and then boldly propositioned him, he’d have taken her home and continued to admire her and lust after her in his own mind and nothing more. But it still would have bothered him if one of his sons courted her.
His thoughts turned to Blixford. It would be noted that Sherbourne was squiring Lady Bonderant about town, and someone was sure to alert her brother. He hoped there wouldn’t be any altercation over it, but he suspected there well might be. It was odd, almost humorous, how they each seemed predisposed to needle the other, via their female relatives.
He thought of Jane and smiled. He so hoped she’d be happy, that she’d find what she was looking for in Blixford. He’d concluded the man ran with very deep, still waters indeed. Jane would enjoy discovering the depth of him, he was certain. She’d always loved a challenge, and Blixford would ever be that.
They were close to his carriage, which awaited them close to the park gates, when William asked, “Sir, do you ride?”
“All the time. And you, Wills? Do you ride?”
“Oh, yes, sir. I’ve a pony named Biscuit and he’s a grand champion.”
“Is he? Then I hope you ride him well, for surely a grand champion would be dishonored by a lackadaisical rider.”
The boy was quiet for a while, then asked, “Sir, what does lackadaisical mean?”
Lucy chuckled and tapped his ribs with her elbow, her gaze merry, daring him to explain.
If she only knew how many things he’d explained over the years. This was child’s play. “Well, it’s not a good thing, that’s what. If you’re lackadaisical, you’re sloppy, your seat improper and your legs misplaced. Biscuit can only do as you tell him, and if you’re lackadaisical, you may unwittingly tell him to do something you never intended. Why, he might run about in circles, making you dizzy, or take off at a gallop and toss you into the lake. He might bolt into the house and eat your mama’s flowers.”
Ah, at last, the boy smiled. Grinned, actually. “That’s silly! He couldn’t open the door!”
Was ever there a sweeter sound than the voice of a child? Sherbourne was a bit overcome, remembering. He ruffled William’s hair and nodded ahead to the carriage before he pulled a lump of sugar from his pocket. “Go and give Portia a treat, and perhaps she’ll get us to Gunther’s that much quicker.”
The boy took the sugar and dashed off, waving it about as he ran, calling out to the horse. Sherbourne watched as John Coachman smiled indulgently at the lad. The man had been in Sherbourne’s employ for years upon years, had watched out for his brood on thousands of occasions. Sherbourne thought the older man looked pleased to have a lad about again, feeding a treat to his carriage horse.