How incredibly horrible.
Freya shook her head slowly and frowned as she took an offered lemonade from a passing footman. “Well, I am not at all surprised. In our very short interaction, he barely uttered a word, but his facial expressions said it all. I couldn’t get away from him fast enough. I’ll be surprised if anyone can stomach him besides his aunt.” There did seem to be a warm connection between the two that Freya found utterly confounding. He’d been sweet to his aunt. The complete opposite as he’d been with her.
“I wonder what he’s doing in town?” Rebecca mused.
“Besides repelling ladies?” Freya asked with a laugh and then rolled her eyes—another thing Mama would wag her finger at. “We didn’t get that far.”
“I dare you to go back,” Lady Sarah said, a wicked grin curling her mouth.
Freya scoffed. “Not in a million years.”
Her friends pouted as if they really did want her to humiliate herself all over again. This garden party certainly was boring if that was the entertainment they sought. “He practically questioned whether or not I knew how to ride a horse. As if any lady worth her salt doesn’t.”
The ladies laughed at that, but then Victoria said, “Well, the women in Scotland do often ride a little differently than we do here.”
“Is that so?” Freya asked, taking a sip of her lemonade. “How?”
Freya and her sisters had some Scottish roots, though who didn’t nowadays? There was no longer a family seat across the border, so she’d not had occasion to visit. But how different could horseback riding possibly be? Not enough that he would question her ability, she thought.
Victoria leaned in as if she were going to say something scandalous. “They straddle the horse. And sometimes ride bareback.”
The rest of them sucked in a shocked breath, covering their mouths as if Victoria had said they rode naked. And Freya, missing only a fraction of a second, followed suit with a glance at Riley, hoping her sister wouldn’t betray that she loved to ride that way when no one was looking—not nude, but bareback and astride. Riley pretended to be stunned by Victoria and didn’t reveal Freya’s secret at all.
“How very uncivilized.” Sarah frowned and sipped at her lemonade, eyeing Lord Lovat now as if he’d come to the garden party in muddy boots.
“Well,” Freya said, trying to turn the topic of conversation to something else. She did not want to hear one more word about Lord Lovat or re-live her embarrassing moments in his company. Even thinking about it brought a mild blush to her cheeks. “Who is going to Lady Alderley’s ball tomorrow night?”
That did the trick, and the ensuing conversations were about dresses, shoes, dances, music and which eligible bachelors would be in attendance. The Ladies’ Marriage Prospect Bulletin had been posting the eligible bachelors for weeks. So, of course, they gossiped about that as well, and who wanted dances from whom, and who was more handsome or had a snaggle-tooth. If their mothers heard them talking, they’d be apoplectic. The bulletin was a secret printing, and only the ladies of the season eligible for marriage received its publication thrice weekly in the post. Always addressed to them so no one else would open it.
The first time she’d received a letter, she’d been both intrigued and curious. Of course, her naughty nature stood out with something like that. But Riley had been mortified until Freya told her she had also gotten one and that her friends had too. Then they’d felt free to discuss it, whereas before, Riley had been certain someone thought to humiliate her by personally sending her the salacious pamphlet. They’d had many discussions on who the author could be, but alas, they’d not yet figured it out.
While the conversation was gripping, Freya found her eyes scrolling over the crowd in search of the tall, dark-haired, brooding Scot.
He’d not moved from the spot where he’d planted his feet as if they’d grown roots. But now his aunt had left him, and beside him was another man, and Lovat was…smiling and laughing.
Freya’s breath caught. She didn’t realize the man would know how to have a good time. And oh, how laughing and smiling changed his face. All the sourness evaporated and was replaced by something incredibly appealing.
“Is that Lord Ashbury with the Scot?” Freya asked, though what she wanted to ask was, how could the kind Ashbury be talking to that jerk? And making him laugh? My god, they seemed to know each other quite well and were enjoying each other’s company. How strange.
Riley sighed heavily beside her. Her sister had had eyes on Lord Ashbury since last season and been too shy to press onward in her suit. Not that she would be able to do much more than flirt or make eye contact, but when he approached her to fill out his name on her dance card, Riley was always turning away out of nervousness. And he approached her a lot. Freya had tried to coax her sister to be more outgoing with him. It was clear he was interested.
“It is,” Riley said, her whole demeanor softening.
The three of their friends leaned in to get a closer look. “Perhaps we should shift ourselves near them to overhear their conversation,” Rachel suggested with a wiggle of her brows.
“I think a walkabout would be much more suited and less conspicuous,” Freya said, always up for a bit of spying. At least it would make the garden party more interesting. Besides, she wanted to know what Lord Ashbury had said that was making Lord Lovat enjoy himself so much.
The five of them linked arms and started to take a turn about the garden, the heels of their slippers crunching on the gravel. And though she wished she hadn’t looked, Freya couldn’t help it when her eyes met the steel of his as he glanced their way.
While Lord Lovat was scowling once more, Lord Ashbury smiled in their direction and beckoned for Lord Lovat to follow him as he approached. There was reluctance in every inch of the Scot’s demeanor as he kept pace with his friend.
My goodness, but never in her life had Freya thought a walkabout as terrible an idea as she did now.
3
The Ladies’ Marriage Prospects Bulletin
Garden Party Tips: Engage the eligible bachelors in interesting conversation but gear it toward them. No one wants to be bored by a lady’s sewing chatter.
The few sips of the sickeningly sweet party punch that Bryson had taken were stuck somewhere in his throat, as were the words he wished to say to his dear friend. Ashbury, who’d been talking amicably with him moments ago, appeared to have gone mad within a few seconds.
Awestruck or dumbstruck, Bryson wasn’t sure, but all intelligible syllables had left the man’s tongue as he fought to regain his metaphorical consciousness while he slapped Bryson in the belly and told him to look.
Being a dutiful mate, Bryson observed what had caught Grey so off guard as to make his brain fatigued. With his gaze in the same direction, Bryson had the opposite reaction.
As if their first encounter wasn’t bad enough, now if he hazarded a guess at her forward momentum, the lass was returning, and this time with reinforcements. Four other young ladies. All beautiful, all looking their way. Bryson checked his mate to be sure this was indeed the direction he’d wanted him to look, and this time he let out a little groan. To make matters worse than they already were, it seemed that his best mate from childhood, Ashbury, was watching the ladies with quite a lot of interest.