young and romantic, and too softhearted.
Lily sighed. “Yes, he is good-looking. But handsome is as handsome does, and they also say he is quite the rake. I would be a fool to get involved with him.” She glared at Dominic and Brendan. “Not the least of which because my hotheaded brothers would cause a scandal by dueling with him.”
Isabel rolled her eyes. “I think it sounds romantic.”
“Romantic to let Lily be taken advantage of again? Just as she was with Nichols?” Dominic said.
“I can take care of myself,” Lily answered. “And you have better things to worry about. Don’t you have a rehearsal today?”
“Yes, boys, your father has been at the Majestic for an hour already,” Katherine said. “I think we have exhausted the topic.”
“Shall we go riding in the park today, Lily?” Isabel asked. “I’ve been stuck here at home too long. I need to see people who are not my bossy brothers.”
Lily nodded, still distracted by the quarrel and by Aidan and Lady HL and violet bouquets. “After I finish going over the accounts. I could use the exercise myself.”
“I will go with you,” said James, but Katherine shook her head.
“Your sisters will be fine on their own today,” Katherine said. “I need your help with something later. And, Dominic dear, who exactly is this Louisa Carstairs?”
Lily pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing at the chagrined look on Dominic’s face and quickly made her escape from the breakfast room.
Rotten Row was crowded by the time Lily made her way there with Isabel, the graveled pathways crowded with riders and sleek carriages all jostling for prime space to see and be seen. It was an unseasonably warm day, the sky a pale, sunny blue, and everyone wanted to be outside enjoying the exercise. And the gossip.
Lily guided her horse smoothly into the slow parade, Isabel close behind her. The lane was a tangle of dark riding habits like her own forest-green one, of sleek horses and shining carriages, of lacy parasols and feathered bonnets. She glimpsed the famous courtesan Therese La Paiva from Paris, in her trademark skintight red habit andsurrounded by black-coated men, as well as countesses and marchionesses and baronesses.
Everyone mingled at the high hour on Rotten Row. Even Queen Victoria sometimes appeared there in her carriage, though there was no sign of her today.
Lily studied everyone through the net veil of her riding hat, automatically scanning to see who was there, who talked to who, who snubbed who, who wore what. When she was a child, this would have been a prime spot for a con, a shivering dodge or the fake wedding band scheme. Now, though, observing everything around her was just good business.
And she was not looking for Aidan. She was
not.
Isabel drew in next to her as they rode along slowly by the rail. “Dominic and Brendan aren’t here now, Lily,” she said. “You can tell me all about Lord Aidan Huntington.”
Lily shook her head. “There is nothing to tell, Issy. I’ve met him once or twice. He was interested in the club, that’s all, and was at the play last night.”
“Mmm-hmm. Then why do you blush when I say his name to you?”
“I do not. It’s merely a warm day,” Lily protested.
“Not that warm. My friend Annabelle, the one in the chorus at the Majestic, says he is amazingly handsome. All the girls pray to see him in the green room at the theater, but he never is.”
“I’m surprised to hear it. Gossip says he’s a rogue of the first order.”
“Maybe the gossip is wrong. They also have a lot to say about the St. Claires, don’t they? And most of it is untrue.”
Lily gave Isabel a startled glance. “What do you mean?”
Isabel laughed. “You all can’t protect me from everything, you know. Besides, who cares what the tittle-tattle says? I want to hear about Lord Aidan. Was he really the one who sent you the violets?”
“Yes,” Lily said reluctantly.
“I wouldn’t think he’d send