Beguiled

“I have a confession to make,” he said, and she tilted her head questioningly. “It isn’t by accident that I met you here this morning. I knew that you and Lady Isabel ride here every day at this time, and I purposefully came and waited, hoping to meet you.” The wariness was back on her face again, mixed with surprise. “I owe you an apology for my behavior at Almack’s two nights ago, and I wanted to make those apologies without anyone else present. I was afraid that perhaps you might be further distressed if I expressed such sentiments before others.”

Her brow furrowed, as if she didn’t understand him, and then, pointing at him, she shook her head slowly and firmly.

“No?” he asked. “It wouldn’t have distressed you?”

A silent laugh crossed her lips and she shook her head again, making it plain that he hadn’t understood. For a moment she was thoughtful, then, she set the reins she held in her lap and lifted both hands, smiling at him in a manner that invited him to join her world of silent symbols. Graydon nodded, leaning forward in his saddle to watch what she did.

Entwining the forefingers of each hand, she rotated her hands in smooth, swirling motions.

“Dancing?” Graydon guessed, and she nodded.

“Us, dancing?” he asked. She shook her head and mouthed the word Almack’s.

“Ah, Almack’s. I see.”

One forefinger fell away, leaving the other alone. Making an exaggeratedly sad face, Lady Lillian pointed at herself and gave a sigh. The lone forefinger bobbed over to one side and bent into what Graydon assumed was a sitting position.

“There you are, sitting alone at Almack’s, while others are dancing?” he ventured.

Lady Lillian nodded again, and gave another hefty sigh. Turning her head suddenly, she gave a look of surprise at the sight of her other forefinger, which she’d lifted high and straight some distance from her other hand. This time she made a gasping sound. When Graydon began to laugh she gave him a stern look and poked the straightened forefinger at him.

“Oh, that’s me, is it?” he asked, still chuckling.

She nodded very firmly before resuming the surprised expression as the straight forefinger marched across the air to the sad, sitting forefinger. The straight finger bowed politely, to which the sitting finger reacted with shy reluctance, all of which Lady Lillian deftly reflected through her facial expressions coupled with her hand movements. Graydon watched, fascinated, as the two fingers enacted with precision their encounter at Almack’s. He found it difficult to tear his gaze away from her animated face, which so rapidly and easily expressed the changing emotions of both characters in her little play. She was kinder to him than he deserved, he thought, since his character seemed to be a mainly noble being possessed of stoic expressions and gentlemanly behavior. By the time his finger-figure marched out of the imaginary Almack’s, he had somehow managed to transform her sadly sighing little finger into a happily sighing finger. Dropping her hands, her face suffused with a blush, Lady Lillian looked to see if he understood.

“My apologies,” he said slowly, “evidently aren’t necessary?”

With obvious relief, she shook her head.

“You are very kind, Lady Lillian. I was afraid, perhaps, that my indecorous behavior had embarrassed you or given you the wrong impression. It is true that I didn’t realize you are mute until we were dancing, but I assure you that my distress at the knowledge was in no way directed toward you. You were a delightful partner in every way. It is my fondest hope that you will be kind enough to gift me with many more such pleasures during your stay in London.”

The blush bloomed more brightly, and Lady Lillian’s lovely features took on a childlike mixture of embarrassment and delight that charmed Graydon right down to the soles of his feet.

The sound of angry voices signaled the approach of Lady Isabel and Lord Daltry, and Lady Lillian and Graydon turned their horses about.

“My lord,” Lady Isabel said without waiting for Graydon to greet her, “will you please tell this mutton-headed acquaintance of yours to return the control of my horse to me?” As an afterthought, and having given Lord Daltry a withering glare, she added, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, my lady,” Graydon replied calmly, noting that Lord Daltry did, indeed, hold the reins to Lady Isabel’s mount in his hands. “Taken to horse stealing, have we, my lord?”

The look Lord Daltry set upon him could have melted a polar icecap. “Any female who rides the way this particular female does shouldn’t be allowed to get within ten feet of a horse.”

Lady Isabel’s gloved hands curled into fists. “Oh! You ignorant, jealous…”

“Jealous!” Lord Daltry repeated.

“…rude idiot! You’re only angry because I was able to outride you so well,” Lady Isabel charged hotly, tugging on her reins to no avail. “Yes, jealous!”

“Will you kindly keep your voice down?” Lord Daltry demanded. “You’re unsettling the horses. I realize it’s probably beyond your country-bred abilities to act like a gentle lady, but you can at least strive to speak like one.”

“Ahem.” Graydon loudly cleared his throat. “I believe you’re the one who’s shouting rather over loudly, old man.” He indicated the two grooms who sat on their horses at a proper, albeit within hearing, distance. “And from what I observed earlier, Lady Isabel is an excellent rider.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Lady Isabel put in with satisfaction, lifting her chin in Lord Daltry’s direction.

“Don’t you think you should return the control of her mount to her?” Graydon suggested.

Lord Daltry scowled darkly. “Not that I’d care if the little fool broke her neck, but I think it might be wisest if I escorted her back to Wilborn Place and had a word with Lord Cardemore. He should be apprised at once of his niece’s reckless behavior.”

“Much good that will do you,” Lady Isabel stated. “My uncle’s the one who taught me to ride.”

“Somehow,” Lord Daltry said tightly, “that doesn’t surprise me. You certainly ride like the devil’s daughter. Or niece. If it were up to me—”

“I beg your pardon, Lord Daltry,” Lady Isabel interrupted in icy tones, at last wrestling her reins from his grip while her horse danced confusedly beneath her, “but it is not up to you.” She moved her steed a safe distance away from him before adding, “I should like to return home now, Lily.”

Lady Lillian responded with several fluttering movements of her hands, too rapidly for Graydon to make any sense of.

“Apologize?” said Lady Isabel, clearly having no difficulty in understanding what the other girl was saying. “Absolutely not. Never. Ever.”

Lord Daltry made a huffing sound. “Probably doesn’t even know how to.”

Lady Isabel pinned him with a hot glare. “If Lord Daltry has been insulted and requires satisfaction, he may challenge me to a race and determine for himself which of us is the better rider.”

At this, Lady Lillian made more hand movements, drawing Graydon’s fascinated gaze. It was her way of talking, he realized, but it was so fluid, so rapid—like the fluttering of hummingbird wings. How did Lady Isabel manage to interpret it?

“We are from the country, Lily,” Lady Isabel said in terse reply, “and if Lord Daltry wishes to tease us about that fact then he’s not the sort of gentleman that Lord Graydon obviously is.” She graced Graydon with a stunning smile. “If I must apologize, it will be to him for causing him to endure such an unfortunate scene. I do apologize, my lord.”

“Please don’t worry over the matter, Lady Isabel,” Graydon replied. “I always strive to enjoy Lord Daltry’s mad fits, often as they occur.”

“Most wise,” said Lady Isabel, while Lord Daltry glowered at his friend.

“We’ll not detain you further,” Graydon said, including both women in a charming smile. “If it’s convenient, may I have the pleasure of calling upon you ladies this afternoon to take you driving? I should deem it a great honor to show you something of London.”

With a delighted enthusiasm that Graydon found both touching and amusing, Lady Lillian and Lady Isabel assented, and the two men were shortly riding away.

“Fits?” Lord Daltry asked. “Mad fits?”

Graydon shrugged lightly. “I don’t know what else you’d call chasing after a perfectly happy female who had her mount under complete control and treating her like the veriest child. Really, Matthew, you astound me. Why didn’t you just grab Lady Isabel by the hair and drag her about the park like a heathen cave dweller?”

Lord Daltry straightened in his saddle. “I don’t want to talk about that female, if you please. I don’t even want to hear her name. Never met a more pestilential woman in my life. She’ll have London on its head before the season’s done, mark my words. Did you make any headway with Lady Lillian?”

Graydon gave an assenting nod. “I think it’s going to work out quite well. She’s a charming girl, and can make herself understood more ably than I’d expected. Whatever her upbringing was, it must have been good enough to give her the confidence to express herself. I may try to engage Miss Hamilton’s aid in the matter,” he added more thoughtfully. “She’s always been tenderhearted to the less fortunate, and if she’ll befriend Lady Lillian, I’ve no doubt matters will proceed much more smoothly.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Daltry said approvingly. “With Miss Hamilton for an ally, none of the other comeouts will dare be uncivil. But what,” he asked directly, “will you tell her?”

“She’s already aware that I’ve undertaken to introduce two young ladies from the country into society. I needn’t tell her anything more, although Miss Hamilton is such a gentle soul that she wouldn’t turn them away even if she knew the full truth.”

“Please,” Daltry said, “don’t tell her. I don’t fancy spending the next ten years visiting you in prison. And I doubt Miss Hamilton would care for it, either.”

Graydon laughed out loud. “I’ve no intention of giving Cardemore a reason to be displeased. Never fear, Matthew. Lady Lillian will enjoy her stay in London. I’ll devote myself to the task entirely.”