They must have reached the hall because John could no longer hear them. That was interesting. Worthington hadn’t mentioned his sisters during their meeting the other morning. Yet that had been all business. John glanced down at his clothing and found a smudge of charcoal on his cravat. He’d have to change before fetching his mother. Perhaps he would see the lady he’d seen at the Park this evening and discover her name. St. Albans would enjoy a peek at the ladies as well. Was it allowed to bring a friend? John shook his head. He had better not try. Lady Bellamny was a stickler for her rules. Aside from that, the Season started next week. There would be plenty of time to meet any lady he wished. He looked at his pocket watch. It was only eight thirty. He still had time to work on this sketch.

He went to the bell-pull and tugged. A few moments later, his butler came in. “My lord?”

“Please inform Pickerell that I must change into fresh evening wear. I am to go bring her ladyship home shortly before eleven.”

His butler bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

Now John could draw without fear of being late. His valet would send someone for him in time to change. He opened the book and was relieved to see the charcoal hadn’t smudged. He finished the horse and kept sketching. Soon a skirt appeared draped over the horse, and the figure of a woman emerged, including a curl that had escaped from its confinement.

Strange.

He did not think he had seen a curl, yet it had come out from his subconscious mind. A clock chimed as he studied the drawing. He had noticed her seat and was certain that he would recognize her even off a horse. There was a way she held her shoulders that stood out to him, and the way her swanlike neck curved when she turned her head toward her friends. He had trouble capturing her hands. Perhaps it was the gloves. The bodice of her habit was short and the neckline was high, ending with a ruff beneath her chin. Yet that did nothing to hide what promised to be generous breasts. She seemed so natural and at ease, but she was also alluring. He would like to see her in an evening gown. Perhaps he would tonight.

“My lord.” Lumner bowed. “Mr. Pickerell said that if you are not to be late you must come at once.”

“Thank you.” John put the drawing book in a cabinet, where his mother would not find it. She knew he drew, but this was one sketch he did not want her to see.

Shortly before eleven he arrived at Lady Bellamny’s house in Upper Brook Street and joined the long line of carriages. John hoped he had not missed most of the ladies leaving. He knocked on the roof. “I’ll get down here and walk.”