Four in Hand. Stephanie Laurens
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we’re always noticed!” returned Arabella, hazel eyes twinkling.
Augusta laughed. “I dare say.” From any other young lady, the comment would have earned a reproof. However, it was impossible to deny the Twinning sisters were rather more than just beautiful, and as they were all more than green girls it was pointless to pretend they did not fully comprehend the effect they had on the opposite sex. To her ladyship’s mind, it was a relief not to have to hedge around the subject.
“Aside from anything else,” she continued thoughtfully, “your public appearance as the Duke of Twyford’s wards will make it impossible for Max to renege on his decision.” Quite why she was so very firmly set on Max fulfilling his obligations she could not have said. But his guardianship would keep him in contact with Miss Twinning. And that, she had a shrewd suspicion, would be a very good thing.
THEIR DRIVE in the Park the next afternoon was engineered by the experienced Lady Benborough to be tantalisingly brief. As predicted, the sight of four ravishing females in the Twyford barouche caused an immediate impact. As the carriage sedately bowled along the avenues, heads rapidly came together in the carriages they passed. Conversations between knots of elegant gentlemen and the more dashing of ladies who had descended from their carriages to stroll about the well-tended lawns halted in midsentence as all eyes turned to follow the Twyford barouche.
Augusta, happily aware of the stir they were causing, sat on the maroon leather seat and struggled to keep the grin from her face. Her charges were attired in a spectrum of delicate colours, for all the world like a posy of gorgeous blooms. The subtle peach of Caroline’s round gown gave way to the soft turquoise tints of Sarah’s. Arabella had favoured a gown of the most delicate rose muslin while Lizzie sat, like a quiet bluebell, nodding happily amid her sisters. In the soft spring sunshine, they looked like refugees from the fairy kingdom, too exquisite to be flesh and blood. Augusta lost her struggle and grinned widely at her fanciful thoughts. Then her eyes alighted on a landau drawn up to the side of the carriageway. She raised her parasol and tapped her coachman on the shoulder. “Pull up over there.”
Thus it happened that Emily, Lady Cowper and Maria, Lady Sefton, enjoying a comfortable cose in the afternoon sunshine, were the first to meet the Twinning sisters. As the Twyford carriage drew up, the eyes of both experienced matrons grew round.
Augusta noted their response with satisfaction. She seized the opportunity to perform the introductions, ending with, “Twyford’s wards, you know.”
That information, so casually dropped, clearly stunned both ladies. “Twyford’s?” echoed Lady Sefton. Her mild eyes, up to now transfixed by the spectacle that was the Twinning sisters, shifted in bewilderment to Lady Benborough’s face. “How on earth…?”
In a few well-chosen sentences, Augusta told her. Once their ladyships had recovered from their amusement, both at once promised vouchers for the girls to attend Almack’s.
“My dear, if your girls attend, we’ll have to lay on more refreshments. The gentlemen will be there in droves,” said Lady Cowper, smiling in genuine amusement.
“Who knows? We might even prevail on Twyford himself to attend,” mused Lady Sefton.
While Augusta thought that might be stretching things a bit far, she was thankful for the immediate backing her two old friends had given her crusade to find four fashionable husbands for the Twinnings. The carriages remained together for some time as the two patronesses of Almack’s learned more of His Grace of Twyford’s wards. Augusta was relieved to find that all four girls could converse with ease. The two younger sisters prettily deferred to the elder two, allowing the more experienced Caroline, ably seconded by Sarah, to dominate the responses.
When they finally parted, Augusta gave the order to return to Mount Street. “Don’t want to rush it,” she explained to four enquiring glances. “Much better to let them come to us.”
TWO DAYS LATER, the ton was still reeling from the discovery of the Duke of Twyford’s wards. Amusement, from the wry to the ribald, had been the general reaction. Max had gritted his teeth and borne it, but the persistent demands of his friends to be introduced to his wards sorely tried his temper. He continued to refuse all such requests. He could not stop their eventual acquaintance but at least he did not need directly to foster it. Thus, it was in a far from benign mood that he prepared to depart Delmere House on that fine April morning, in the company of two of his particular cronies, Lord Darcy Hamilton and George, Viscount Pilborough.
As they left the parlour at the rear of the house and entered the front hallway, their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the street door. They paused in the rear of the hall as Hillshaw moved majestically past to answer it.
“I’m not at home, Hillshaw,” said Max.
Hillshaw regally inclined his head. “Very good, Your Grace.”
But Max had forgotten that Hillshaw had yet to experience the Misses Twinning en masse. Resistance was impossible and they came swarming over the threshold, in a frothing of lace and cambrics, bright smiles, laughing eyes and dancing curls.
The girls immediately spotted the three men, standing rooted by the stairs. Arabella reached Max first. “Dear guardian,” she sighed languishingly, eyes dancing, “are you well?” She placed her small hand on his arm.
Sarah, immediately behind, came to his other side. “We hope you are because we want to ask your permission for something.” She smiled matter-of-factly up at him.
Lizzie simply stood directly in front of him, her huge eyes trained on his face, a smile she clearly knew to be winning suffusing her countenance. “Please?”
Max raised his eyes to Hillshaw, still standing dumb by the door. The sight of his redoubtable henchman rolled up by a parcel of young misses caused his lips to twitch. He firmly denied the impulse to laugh. The Misses Twinning were outrageous already and needed no further encouragement. Then his eyes met Caroline’s.
She had hung back, watching her sisters go through their paces, but as his eyes touched her, she moved forward, her hand outstretched. Max, quite forgetting the presence of all the others, took it in his.
“Don’t pay any attention to them, Your Grace; I’m afraid they’re sad romps.”
“Not romps, Caro,” protested Arabella, eyes fluttering over the other two men, standing mesmerized just behind Max.
“It’s just that we heard it was possible to go riding in the Park but Lady Benborough said we had to have your permission,” explained Sarah.
“So, here we are and can we?” asked Lizzie, big eyes beseeching.
“No,” said Max, without further ado. As his aunt had observed, he knew every ploy. And the opportunities afforded by rides in the Park, where chaperons could be present but sufficiently remote, were endless. The first rule in a seduction was to find the opportunity to speak alone to the lady in question. And a ride in the Park provided the perfect setting.
Caroline’s fine brows rose at his refusal. Max noticed that the other three girls turned to check their elder sister’s response before returning to the attack.
“Oh, you can’t mean that! How shabby!”
“Why on earth not?”
“We all ride well. I haven’t been out since we were home.”
Both Arabella and Sarah turned to the two gentlemen still standing behind Max, silent auditors to the extraordinary scene. Arabella fixed Viscount Pilborough with pleading eyes. “Surely there’s nothing unreasonable in such a request?” Under the Viscount’s besotted gaze, her lashes fluttered almost imperceptibly, before her lids decorously dropped, veiling those dancing eyes, the long lashes brushing her cheeks, delicately stained with a most becoming blush.
The Viscount swallowed. “Why on earth not, Max? Not an unreasonable request at all. Your wards would look very lovely on horseback.”
Max,