Dair had him there as the Gardens were said to be the finest in London and Miles had longed to view them for some while. “I suppose I could…mill along.”
“Excellent. Now then…” Dair straightened his cravat. “‘Desperate affairs require desperate measures.’ Nelson, don’t you know, so let us recap your admirable plan for today. We attach ourselves, nay cling, to the Misses Seymour and Nash like burrs on a petticoat until–”
Another shriek rent the air… “Thank heavens I’ve a Will made, for you cannot tell me, Mrs Tait, that fewer souls perish on the King’s Highway than do mid-sip of tea in a drawing room!”
With a deep breath, Miles turned, wondering why Aunt had come at all.
Poor Mrs Tait was agape as the two ladies’ barouches nigh scraped one another like racehorses jostling for position. Aunt Mildred with her nose in front.
With blond curls windswept, Cousin Jeremy was lounging in the Firth barouche as best he could in an impossibly tight purple jacket while Aunt Mildred, wearing a dun-brown pelisse that matched her hat and bonnet, was surveying the line of carriages with an eagle eye.
Alas, it then eagled upon himself.
“There you are! Halt driver. Stonewold? To me!”
Miles swivelled back to Dair. “No wonder you keep your own lodgings.”
His cousin’s lips were pressed. “Not far enough some days.”
With pressed lips of his own, Miles sauntered over to the barouche. “Jeremy. Aunt Mildred.”
“Stonewold,” she hissed. “Come closer. A word in private.”
He raised a brow and took one step forward. “Can I be of service?”
“Is it true? Have I erred? Are these not in fact related to the Taits of Twickenham at all but come from…Manchester?” She shuddered. “The Manchester oftrade.”
“That’s correc–”
“I accepted this invitation believing them to be related to the Taits of Twickenham.”
“I’m afraid not, Aunt Mildred. You could, however, cry off.”
“Oh no.” She narrowed her beetle-brown eyes. “I’ve just seen Viscount Farnsworth and Lord Kane. The latter’s daughter would do very well for Jeremy here.”
Jeremy was peering over at the Taits, fingers tapping a rhythm on his knee, before a slap on the arm caused him to turn.
“Hmm?”
“Kane’s daughter. You are to ingratiate yourself with her. She’s timid enough and will make a perfect bride. Won’t complain when you state your wish to live with me after your marriage.”
Jeremy gulped. “Well, I…”
“Do you have a complaint?” Aunt Mildred twisted on the seat. “I begat you life, boy. Was in monstrous pain for nigh twenty hours. And had to suspend all social events when you contracted the measles, so to be clear, I am not to be usurped by somewife.”
Older than Dair by two years, Jeremy Firth had been a sickly child and had grown into a man who still looked as though a strong breeze might finish him off. At his gentle poetic mien and gentle poetic looks, many a debutante fluttered her lashes. But upon introduction to Aunt Mildred, stilled them with the abruptness of a dropped fan.
Jeremy’s lips moved but naught emerged.
“Good,” responded Aunt Mildred. “Now, Kingston-upon-Thames is suitably genteel, Stonewold, but I still expect you to escort us most vigilantly at this fair.”
Miles tapped his cane upon the pavement. For thegenteelKingston-upon-Thames was also the venue of an unruly football match each Shrove Tuesday. He’d once read it had become so disruptive that the Riot Act had been read and the cavalry at Hampton Court called for. Unfortunately, the calvary had failed to attend… They’d been one of the teams.
“Alas, I am already committed to escort a lady.” A slight stretch of the truth but when needs must. Miles slid a sideways glance to Alasdair as he strolled up.
“Not…Miss Tait of Manchester?” Aunt Mildred hissed, ignoring her younger son Dair completely.
“No–”
