Meredith clamped her mouth shut to avoid voicing the first words that came into her mind about how taking chances is exactly what landed her into her current predicament.
"Look," Annabel said. "Up there. That's Tristan Barrett. Isn't he so handsome?"
Meredith spotted a fashionable gentleman standing on the river's edge, heedless of the churning water. "Oh, indeed."
"His brother is the Earl of Averston-equally handsome, but not terribly social." Annabel lowered her voice. "According to rumor, Mr. Barrett is a bit of a rake, but oh, what a beautiful face." She sighed.
Rumor often bore little truth, as Meredith knew all too well. Still, she'd keep an eye on him if he came near her cousin. Her whole reason for agreeing to her aunt and uncle's sponsorship of her first and only season was to enjoy time with Annabel and help her make a good match with an honorable gentleman who deserved her. At season's end, she would return to her grandmother's house. Perhaps she'd even marry the vicar who had proven himself honest and kind, if somewhat bland. That, at last, might please her parents.
Several more members of their group stepped into small boats and cast off, rocking in the choppy waves.
Annabel gestured. "In the far boat is Mr. Finley-he's the grandson of a viscount-and behind him is Mr. Dixon, the third son of a marquis."
Meredith shrank back. "I don't belong with all these aristocratic people."
"Nonsense." Annabel squeezed her hand. "No one here has a title. As landed gentry, we're all technically commoners."
Meredith didn't truly qualify as gentry, notwithstanding her aunt and uncle's sponsorship or her mother's birth.
Behind them, a gentleman laughed. "Nothing to worry about, my dear Miss Harris. Come see for yourself how easily they cross."
Meredith glanced behind her. A pale-faced young woman wearing a purple bonnet stared at the river. Next to her stood a gentleman with a beaver hat and striped cravat. He tugged on the frightened lady's arm to pull her closer to the riverbank.
A gust of wind rose up, tugging at Meredith's bonnet and sending a chill through her. The purple bonnet sailed off the hapless lady's head. The lady let out a cry and reached for her bonnet, but it tumbled in the air like a kite off its strings. Meredith made a grab for it as it swooped over her fingertips. The bonnet landed on the grass several feet behind her.
"My bonnet!" cried the lady, putting her hands on her head as if to protect it from some ill that only befell bareheaded people in public.
"Bad luck, that," said her unhelpful companion.
Either he lacked devotion for the lady or he lacked gentlemanly valor. Meredith ran for the headwear, but the wind kicked it just out of reach. The wind pushed it again, and it bumped through the river park and into the street, where it finally rolled to a stop.
Dodging a carriage one moment and a rider the next, Meredith chased after the purple creation. As if to play with her, the wind pushed it ever farther until it landed against a storefront window displaying buns and bread.
Meredith pounced on the bonnet. "I have you now."
She snatched it up and inspected it. Considering the amount of time it spent bumping on the ground, the ribbons and trimmings all seemed intact, and the brim, though a tad scuffed, retained its shape.
"Spare a coin, miss?" a small voice said. Hanging at the corner of the bakery and a narrow alley stood a ragged little girl. Limp strings of hair hung down her thin shoulders.
Meredith knew better than to go near an alley in this part of town. Meredith reached into her reticule and pulled out a twopence. "Here you are."
"Tuppence," the girl mouthed, as if offered a king's ransom. The girl wavered, half in the alley and half on the street.
She took a timid step forward on bare feet. Poor thing probably lived in the rookeries. In a rush, the child darted forward, snatched the coin, and rushed around the corner. Meredith would have bought bread for the girl and watched to be sure the child ate. Too often, children handed their coins to their drunk of a father, who spent it on more drink. But a bareheaded lady awaited her bonnet, and no young lady-not even those in disgrace like Meredith-went about London alone, not even into a bakery.
With a firm grip on the wayward bonnet, Meredith returned to the group gathered at the edge of the riverbank.
"Gracious, Merry, you frightened me when you ran out into the street!" Annabel stared with wide eyes. "You might have been hit or trampled."
Meredith smiled at her cousin. "Nothing so exciting." She presented the hat to its owner. "I believe this is yours."
"How can I ever thank you?" The lady accepted her bonnet and inspected it for damage. With a shrug, she put it on and tied it firmly below her chin. Though rather plain, the lady of perhaps sixteen had an open, friendly smile, beautiful teeth, and a certain childlike innocence.
In Meredith's peripheral vision, a gentleman stared at her. She allowed herself only a glance, but oh my, what a sight! As she pinned her gaze downward, the memory of that brief look at him superimposed itself over her vision-the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Looking at her. Wearing a suit more befitting a ballroom than a garden excursion, he stood a few inches taller than other men nearby. More notably, he had met her gaze boldly, as if he sought to learn all her secrets. No, she'd best not look a second time. She knew better than to trust the attentions of a handsome man.
"Mr. Partridge is looking at you," Annabel whispered. "I declare he is almost as beautiful as Mr. Barrett."
Annabel had it backward, actually, but Meredith didn't contradict.
Pretending to tuck her auburn hair into her hat, Annabel turned slightly toward Meredith so as to make her words even more discreet. "You may recall that his brother is the Duke of Suttenberg-a paragon of a man. Now that would be a family to marry into."
Being related to a duke made him completely out of reach, even if she dared risk her heart again. Wryly, Meredith said, "The duke or the brother?"
"Both. You seem to have caught Mr. Partridge's eye. Again."
"He's probably wondering what kind of half-wit charges into the street after someone else's bonnet." Had she made a complete fool of herself? People in London probably didn't do such things. "What do you mean ‘again'?"
"He's the one who looked at you more than once at the St. Cyrs' ball last week, if you will recall, although you were never introduced."
She'd met and learned about such a dizzying number of people that she'd failed to remember all of them. Surely, if she'd seen him, she would have remembered.
Annabel tugged on her arm. "We're next." She brightened, her expression almost worshipful, as Tristan Barrett smiled at them and gestured to the boats.
"There is room for only two, plus the ferryman, so you need to pair up." Mr. Barrett gestured to the handsome gentleman who'd been watching her. "Mr. Cavenleigh, will you ride over with Miss Annabel Stafford? And, Mr. Partridge, please ride with Miss Stafford's friend. Miss . . .?" He glanced between Meredith and Annabel.
Annabel made the introductions. "May I introduce Mr. Tristan Barrett? Mr. Barrett, this is my cousin and my dearest friend, Miss Meredith Brown." Annabel gave a melting smile to the handsome Mr. Barrett, who was probably the kind of man best avoided with his too debonair smile and too-handsome-for-his-own-good looks.
"Miss Stafford, have you met Mr. Partridge?" Mr. Barrett asked.
Meredith gripped Annabel's hand without a single glance at the gentleman of whom he spoke. "We are supposed to stay together. I ought not get into a boat with anyone else."
His eyes widened as if unaccustomed to anyone denying him anything, but nodded. "Very well, you two can take this boat then." He handed them in while the ferryman kept the boat steady.
Meredith immediately sank down on the bench as the ferry rocked underneath her, threatening to throw her overboard.
Annabel stepped on board with a ballerina's grace and shot Mr. Barrett a grateful, adoring, smile. "Thank you, Mr. Barrett." She cocked her head at Meredith and asked under her breath. "You don't really have to stay with me exclusively. We're in a public place with a group."
Meredith sent Annabel an apologetic glance. "Forgive me if you're disappointed about not riding in a boat with a handsome gentleman, but . . ." How could she explain her near panic?
"You don't need to apologize, Merry. I understand." Annabel touched her hand.
But she didn't understand, not really. How could she?
"Now you two." Mr. Barrett gestured to the lady with the escaped purple bonnet and her escort.
The lady shrank back. "I . . . I don't . . ." Her gaze focused on the water growing increasingly dark as the sun sank lower.
"Come now, Miss Harris," said the gentleman with her. "It's a short ride to the gardens."