The Belle of Belgrave Square (Belles of London #2)(46)

“Splendid,” Ridgeway said. “I prefer a bit of exercise before luncheon. Come, Miss Bingham. Shall we have a stroll around the pond?”

Miss Bingham giggled. “Oh yes. Let’s.” She took Ridgeway’s hand, allowing him to assist her up. “You don’t mind, Miss Throckmorton?”

“Not at all. I daresay we could all use a walk to whet our appetites.” Miss Throckmorton stood without assistance. She collected her delicate lace parasol and opened it over her head. “If you wouldn’t mind, gentlemen?”

Jasper offered her his arm. She tucked her hand through it as they moved to join Ridgeway and Miss Bingham. Aldershott walked with them on Miss Throckmorton’s opposite side.

The pond was one of many in Richmond Park. Fed by a spring, the still surface reflected the lush azaleas and rhododendrons surrounding it, their bright blooms fading as spring drifted inexorably toward summer.

Old oaks provided intermittent shade along the wide path that circled the water. They’d gone halfway around, engaged in sporadic conversation, when Miss Bingham glanced back from her place on Ridgeway’s arm to frown at Jasper and Aldershott as they flanked her friend.

“I abhor odd numbers,” she said. “Such a pity Miss Wychwood was too ill to come. If she’d been here, we’d have been perfectly matched.”

Jasper very nearly froze where he stood. It was only with an effort that he continued walking alongside Miss Throckmorton. Though his emotions roiled, his voice was one of creditable calm. “Miss Wychwood is ill?”

Miss Throckmorton made a soft sound of sympathy. “Terribly ill, apparently. It’s dreadful, really. I understood she was frail, but I’d no notion it was so serious.”

This time he did stop, coming to an abrupt halt on the path. His heart stopped right along with him. Whatever calmness he’d managed up to now vanished into the ether. “What do you mean? How serious?”

Miss Throckmorton’s hand fell from his arm. She turned to face him. Ridgeway and Miss Bingham turned as well, doubling back to join them.

“Miss Bingham and I called on her this morning in Belgrave Square,” Miss Throckmorton said. “I’d hoped she might agree to accompany us to the park. But just as I raised my hand to knock on the door, it opened and a man in an old-fashioned frock coat came out.”

“Dr. Cordingley,” Miss Bingham said with an eloquent shudder.

Ridgeway frowned. “That old vampire?”

“He’s never met a patient who didn’t need a bleeding,” Aldershott remarked unhelpfully. “The older generation swears by him.”

Miss Throckmorton tipped her parasol to better shade her face. “Indeed. He told us he’d given Miss Wychwood two consecutive treatments this morning and that she wasn’t fit to receive anyone.”

Jasper stared at Miss Throckmorton. Two bleedings? A sense of icy foreboding settled over him.

“He was very severe, too,” Miss Bingham added. “I swear I saw Miss Wychwood’s blood on the cuff of his sleeve. It was horrible.”

Ridgeway looked at Jasper. And then he sighed. “If you’ll excuse us, ladies. Aldershott.”

Jasper scarcely heard him make his excuses. He was already stalking off across the park.

Ridgeway trotted to catch up with him. “Damn it, Blunt.”

“Don’t try to stop me,” Jasper said.

“Stop you from what? What do you plan on doing? If she’s as ill as they say—”

“She isn’t. And if she is, it’s because they’ve made her so. They don’t understand—”

“Yes, and I suppose you do. You who have known her all of two months. Even less if you discount the occasions on which she was terrified of the sight of you, fleeing like a frightened rabbit every time you crossed her path.”

“It isn’t like that anymore. She—” Jasper broke off with a scowl. “Why the devil am I explaining myself to you?”

“Because I’m the only friend you’ve got.” Ridgeway kept pace with him as he strode over the grass, through the gates, and to the line of carriages in the street. “Has it not occurred to you that perhaps her parents know best?”

Jasper flashed him a sardonic glance.

“No. Of course they don’t.” Ridgeway sighed again. His carriage was but a few yards away. The coachman had already unhooked the horses and was walking them along the grass. “Hitch them back up, Rufus. Captain Blunt’s returning to Mayfair.”

“It isn’t necessary.” Jasper wasn’t averse to taking a hansom or an omnibus. One means of transportation was as good as the other. So long as he got there as quickly as possible. “I’ll find another way back.”

“Yes, because that’s the definition of heroic, arriving at a lady’s home in a hired cab.”

Jasper grudgingly waited for Ridgeway’s coachman to ready the carriage. “This isn’t heroism. This is selfishness. It’s for my own peace of mind.” It was partially true. He couldn’t rest until he knew she’d be all right.

“Whatever it is . . . it’s not in your best interest. Nor in the interest of those bastards of yours. You do know that?”

Jasper knew it. By God, how he knew it. “I only want to see her. To assure myself things aren’t as bad as Miss Throckmorton said.”