“Yes, there is nothing better than a day’s riding,” I said. “Perhaps we could venture out tomorrow if that suits you, Mr. Talbot.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Evan said politely.

“A marvelous idea. I shall enjoy that enormously,” Charlotte said.

“But, my dear, you promised to take me to visit your tenants tomorrow morning with charity baskets,” the Ermine said silkily. “I was so looking forward to it.”

“Did I? Oh yes, of course,” Charlotte said. “But you must go riding, Lady Augusta. I would not wish you to forfeit any pleasure.” She allowed a nicely judged instant of irritation and disappointment to cross her face. A performance worthy of the great Sarah Siddons herself.

“Well, that is settled to everyone’s satisfaction, then,” the Ermine said, glancing at me with a smug smile.

I returned my own smug smile.

To everyone’s satisfaction, indeed.

26

The next morning, I woke to the sound of Tully drawing the bedchamber curtains and the rhythmic thud of heavy rain upon the windows.

“ ’Tis a foul day, my lady,” Tully reported, her tone implying that the Lancashire sky rained out of spite. “Looks like it has settled in too.”

So much for best-laid plans. I rose, receiving my silk wrap from Tully and drawing it close as I walked to the window. A pessimistic squint at the dark clouds and rain sweeping across the stables agreed with Tully’s prediction. There would be no riding today. Not unless a miracle happened.

Charlotte kept country hours and so breakfast was not until after nine. Time, then, to dress and visit Julia, if she was awake, and apprise her of last night’s fun and games.

My sister was in the process of dressing when Leonard opened her bedchamber door to me.

Julia sat at the dressing table in a white morning gown with a Vandyke collar trimmed with double lace. She always chose an abundance of lace when she wished to invigorate herself. It made her feel better, she said. Which probably meant she was not feeling any better.

“Has your headache gone?” I asked, walking to the windows to check if the miracle had happened in the minute it had taken me to walk along the corridor. No—if anything, the rain was heavier.

“A little,” she said as she considered the linen cap that Leonard had fetched from the clothes press.

I glanced at her maid for confirmation. Leonard gave a slight shake of her head.

My sister waved away the cap. “No. The lace-trimmed one, I think.” She turned her attention back to me. “So, what transpired at dinner last night?”

I apprised her of the currently untenable plan to ride to Blackburn and the advent of Lord Alvanley and George Brummell at the end of the week.

She clicked her tongue. “That is a meeting we cannot risk.”