The Virgin Huntress (The Devil DeVere #2)(11)

“Not Hyde Park! Please, Uncle Vic,” she pleaded, “anywhere else but there.”

“Of course, my pet. London has many parks. Perhaps you would enjoy seeing the deer at Richmond Park? Even the road to Richmond is a scenic drive. The prospects from the new bridge and the hill are quite remarkable.”

“Yes,” Vesta said. “It sounds lovely.”

“We shall go anywhere you like,” he promised. He placed his fingers under her dainty chin and upturned her face to look into her deceptively guileless eyes, for he knew in his being that the girl was up to something. “And you will tell your godfather precisely what is troubling you.”

***

Vesta climbed into the chaise with her godfather’s assistance. “Might I drive?” she asked as he settled himself and took up the ribbons.

He looked aghast. “I think not!”

“I do know how,” she insisted.

He gave her a dark look. “You don’t know London.” His commanding tone laid the question to rest. Vesta only shrugged.

They departed the mews in fits and starts with her godfather Lord DeVere expertly maneuvering through the mass of merchants’ carts, hackneys, sedan chairs, and private coaches comprising London’s daily traffic until reaching Richmond Road where they finally settled into an even pace. Vesta lost herself for the longest time in the rhythmic clop of the iron-shod hooves, rendering only halfhearted response to the sights he pointed out along the way. After several miles, they drew up before the new stone toll bridge spanning the Thames with its magnificent five arches.

“This structure was erected only a few years ago to replace a ferry that was in service dating back to the Norman times,” said Lord DeVere. “I am told it is one of the recommended sights to see in London.”

They sat for several minutes admiring the view of woods, water, softly swelling hills, and downs in the near distance as well as the towers and spires of Richmond Village across the river, but Vesta was far too distracted to much care. “Fascinating indeed,” Vesta remarked drily.

“My sentiments exactly.” Her godfather chuckled. “Since I am quite as bored as you are with the tour, shall we dispense with the drive in the park altogether? Do you now wish to tell me what it is that sent you to my door, Vesta?”

“Must I have a reason?” she shot back. “You are my godfather, after all.”

He chuckled again, long and hard. “No, my dear, reasons are only for those beings with inferior understanding.”

She brightened. “I just knew we would be of one accord.”

“Did you now?” He grinned. “We have found but one topic in which we agree. Am I to believe there are others?”

“Undoubtedly!” Vesta exclaimed.

“Do you care to elaborate? Although it probably is best not to be seen alone in my company, why were you so insistent on avoiding Hyde Park?”

Vesta plucked at her skirts.”Because they must not know I have spoken with you.”

“They?”

“Aunt Di and Captain Hew.” She slanted a sidelong look to gauge her godfather’s reaction.

“Ah.” He nodded. “And why is this?”

“Because they would neither understand nor approve.”

“Of you speaking with me?” He scowled.

“No, of what I speak to you about.”

His blue gaze bored into her. “And that topic would be?”

Vesta bit her lip. “Aunt Di and Captain Hew.”

“Ah, but of course.”

She was glad to see his expression relax.”It’s all wrong, don’t you see?” Vesta insisted. “Aunt Di is lovely, but she’s far too old.”

“Old? I daresay she is younger than I.” He gave her a shrewd look. “Or do you really mean too aged for Captain Hew?”

“Indeed, I do! And she has already been married once! Should she not give others a chance? It’s only fair, after all.”

“Undoubtedly.” He smirked.

“And Captain Hew, he is far too distracted by her.”

“So distracted that he sees nothing...or no one else?” he suggested.

“Precisely! I just knew you of all people would understand.”

“So what do you propose as an answer to this dilemma, my dear?”

Vesta wrinkled her brow. “I haven’t quite decided. ‘Tis why I seek your advice. I first thought about asking her to return home as it is my father’s house, after all, but then who would I have to chaperone me? Polly couldn’t do so.”

“Polly?”

“My maid. Well, she’s only a borrowed maid to begin with. So you see why that wouldn’t answer at all.”

“No, borrowed maids are always an inferior lot.”

“Even if I found my own abigail, she still wouldn’t be an appropriate chaperone, so you see why I can’t send Diana home.”

“Indeed, I do. Have you another solution?” Her godfather took up the lines and signaled the horses to turn about.

“I do, but it’s a thorny one.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “It would require the assistance of one with considerable resources, one who might be in harmony with my proposal.”

“Go on, my dear,” he urged, cueing the team into a brisk trot.