Free AgeofInnocence by Eliza Lloyd Page B

knows all
the steps.”
    “Oh, but Mr. Ford is a lovely dancer,” Lettie exclaimed.
    He glanced at her but she was fully engaged with them.
    “And a well-versed dance partner is so important, especially
since we will be dancing together for many, many years to come. And you know I
am a very good judge of a dance partner’s abilities. My previous husbands
thought they were good dancers but alas, at times, I could not even get them to
the ball. Such a shame really. A good waltz, when it is completed correctly,
leaves me breathless with joy.
    “What about you gentlemen? I can’t imagine dandies such as
yourselves are interested in dancing. You are probably more interested in fencing
with each other than entertaining a lady of quality.” She held up her hand.
“There’s no need to deny it. I can tell dancing doesn’t interest you.”
    If Ferd had walked up and interrupted this conversation, he
would have thought it perfectly amiable. Instead, they’d been pierced with Mrs.
Ford’s tongue.
    She glanced at Ferd. An innocent, happy glance and asked,
“Mr. Ford, shall we be going?”
    “Certainly.” Her arm was securely entwined with his and she
cast him an adoring gaze—one meant for their onlookers he suspected.
    “Say, Ford, we are racing curricles tomorrow. We are looking
to fleece as many as are interested.”
    “I’ll be there,” he said, without a second thought.
    He would thrash them or whoever manned the reins tomorrow.
He was looking forward to it—an opportunity to…
    “And why did you agree to such a contest with those men?”
she demanded.
    “Lettie, this is my business.”
    “Curricle racing is dangerous and those dunderheads don’t
give a fig about money. They challenged you so they could embarrass you.”
    “It’s a long story but I don’t intend to lose.” Not when he
was considered one of the best all-around sportsmen in London. He did most
things well, thanks to years of practice. He was an especially good whip. His
horses in Brighton were purchased and bred with exactitude.
    “Please don’t race them. Please.”
    He faced her. In this pursuit he was confident and could
give her every assurance of his performance. “It would be impolite to refuse an
invitation.”
    “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
    “My darling, all will be well. This I can promise.”
    She pressed a hand to her chest and exhaled. “Then I will
expect heroic tales for our children.”
    “Legendary.”
    As they walked he thought of those painful years and his
classmates’ behavior then and now.
    They’d spent the years since Harrow being unrepentant rakes
with nothing but their families’ money for support. Ferd had turned his
grandmother’s inheritance into an estate and he’d used his time to better
himself. He should thank them. Their petty bullying had pushed him in more ways
than he cared to admit.
    “Why did they behave that way? They were cruel. Cleverly
cruel and you allowed it.”
    “We attended Harrow together. They never grew up. I allowed
nothing. They are what they are. But I must say, you handled them deftly.”
    “Pompous arses. Do they think a married woman—three times
married, mind you—is too sheltered to understand their juvenile word play?
Doesn’t it upset you?”
    “Lettie, their behavior upset me for years. And maybe it
still does but this past few weeks, I am beginning to see that they don’t
matter. I have achieved more than they will ever accomplish.”
    “Oh?”
    “I have a wife who makes me deliriously happy. That is nigh
impossible in London.”
    “And she’s rich,” she added. She stopped and clutched his
arm before pushing to her toes and kissing his cheek. She whispered in his ear
and he laughed.
    “Well, I am glad they will never know how well you do that.”
    The sparkling mischief in her gaze turned serious. “Do I
make you happy?”
    “Mrs. Ford, I think I might be the luckiest man in England
today. I don’t think it is going to be a hardship