Free Cupid's Choice: She's a shy beauty in distress. He's a chivalric gentleman. by Gayle Buck Page A

have called for a phaeton and driven herself if she intended to tool around.
    “Caroline! I am glad that I chanced to catch you before you left,” said Sir Frederick, running up the few narrow steps toward her.
    Mrs. Richardson looked surprised to see him. “Freddy!” Then she took in his attire, and she blinked at his sartorial elegance. “My word, Freddy.”
    Sir Frederick grinned up at her, one knee bent and his booted foot resting on the top step where she stood. With exaggerated formality, quite ruined by the amusement dancing in his eyes, he said politely, “Good morning, Caroline. May I have the favor of a few minutes or are you all in a rush?”
    “No, of course not! Come back in with me,” said Mrs. Richardson. Very curious, she turned to him at once after she had led him into the sitting room. She tossed aside her silver-knotted reticule and ermine muff without a thought. “What is toward, Freddy? You’re very early today.” She glanced again at his attire, a question in her eyes.
    Correctly interpreting her look, Sir Frederick said, “I am making a visit to Lady Smythe this morning.”
    Mrs. Richardson at once understood. She sank gracefully down on a settee and made a civil gesture toward the chairs opposite her. “I see! Pray sit down, Freddy. Have you breakfasted? Shall I call for refreshment?”
    “No, thank you. I shall not keep you many minutes when I know you are going out,” said Sir Frederick, availing himself of his hostess’s invitation to be seated and settling in a wing chair. “The thing of it is, Caroline, I’ve come to ask a favor of you.”
    Mrs. Richardson’s brows rose and there was genuine interest in her green eyes. “Really! Of course I shall aid you in any way that I might, Freddy. What is it about?”
    “What did you think of Miss Holland?” asked Sir Frederick baldly.
    Nonplused, Mrs. Richardson stared at him. “Why, I don’t know! What should I think about her? She is a pretty thing, of course, but atrociously backward. She’ll never make a success of this Season, I fear, not when she is so desperately afraid that she might make a slip in front of that mother of hers!”
    Sir Frederick nodded. “I, too, pitied her. I suspected you did as well.”
    “Well, naturally I did! Anyone of sensibility could see that she is horridly browbeaten,” said Mrs. Richardson. She paused, her gaze holding mingled curiosity and speculation. “Why do you ask, Freddy?”
    “I am going around to Lady Smythe’s this morning because her ladyship told me last night she intends to bring Miss Holland into fashion. Her ladyship says it will be a gratifying challenge,” said Sir Frederick in a bland voice.
    Mrs. Richardson looked at him in speechless astonishment. She could only shake her head at his revelation.
    Sir Frederick stood up, taking a few steps away and coming back again. With a straight look, he said, “Caroline, if her ladyship is of the same mind, I should like to help her to do just that. What do you say? Would you be willing to lend your support to such a harebrained scheme?”
    “Harebrained indeed!” exclaimed Mrs. Richardson, finding her voice. “What claim does Miss Holland have on Lady Smythe? Or indeed, on any of us! What possible reason could Lady Smythe have for taking on such a thankless task? And believe me, it would be thankless where Mrs. Holland is concerned.”
    Sir Frederick flashed his quick grin. “I don’t pretend to understand the workings of Lady Smythe’s mind, Caroline! As for myself, I am urged to action simply because I cordially dislike Miss Holland’s parent.”
    “That alone is certainly enough,” agreed Mrs. Richardson with a distasteful grimace. “I have never met anyone quite like Mrs. Holland.” She quickly made a decision. “Very well, Freddy. If Lady Smythe is of the same mind, I shall help. But what is it exactly that you wish me to do?”
    Sir Frederick frowned because his thoughts were only half-formed on this point. He had