"I hate flattery," Grayson said, "thus I suppose that I like 'The Crow and the Fox.'"
"Ah," Rosalind said, and poked Grayson's arm. "The fox flatters the crow, and the crow drops the food in his mouth to preen."
"Exactly."
Rosalind stuck out her small plate for a nutty bun.
Nicholas looked at that nutty bun, sighed, and slipped one of the remaining two off the plate onto hers.
"It is always so" Sophie said, grinning at him with only a dollop of sympathy, since she wanted the other bun. "Nutty buns are at a great premium in this household. The recipe comes from Cook at Northcliffe Hall. Because my husband prostrated himself at her feet, swore he would sing her arias beneath her window, she deigned to pass the recipe along to our cook."
"If you should show me to the kitchen, ma'am, I will prostrate myself as well. However, I don't know any arias."
"Neither does my husband. He is so charming, however, that it doesn't seem to matter."
Laughter. It felt good, Nicholas thought, surprised. He couldn't remember very much laughter in his life.
"It is a lovely morning," he said. "As I recall from my boyhood, this is a precious spectacle that shouldn't be squandered. May I ask Miss La Fontaine to walk with me in the park?"
"Which park?" Ryder asked.
"Hyde Park, sir. I have a carriage outside. I hired it, since the ones remaining at Wyverly Chase are from the previous century."
Grayson leaned forward. "Wyverly Chase? What a phenomenal name. I should like to hear the history behind it. It is your family seat?"
Nicholas nodded.
Rosalind knew Grayson's brain was already spinning a tale about Wyverly Chase, so she said, "I understand there is a small artists' fair this morning. Perhaps his lordship and I could see what is happening with that."
Grayson nodded and rose. "I shall accompany you."
Rosalind wanted to smack Grayson, but since he had to be a hatter choice for chaperone than either Aunt Sophie or Uncle Ryder, she nodded. She rose as well, and smiled. "I should enjoy that very much."
Ryder Sherbrooke, seeing no hope for it, slowly nodded.
It was the rare sort of English spring day—a blue sky so bright , a breeze so light and scented sweet with the blooming spring flowers, that it brought a tear to the jaded English eye. They discovered that the small artists' fair meant to take place in one corner of Hyde Park had turned into an event.
Hundreds of people milled through Hyde Park to stop at he food and drink vendors and the artists' stalls, or sit on the trampled grass to watch the jugglers and mimes come to share in the fun and profit. There was a good deal of laugher, some good-natured fisticuffs, perhaps a bit too much ale, and pickpockets who smiled happily as they adroitly worked through the crowds.
"There is more food here today than artists," Nicholas said. Both he and Grayson held Rosalind by an arm, not about to let her get pulled away in the boisterous crowd.
"And drink," Grayson said. Suddenly Grayson stopped still, stared off into the distance.
"Oh, I see," Rosalind said and poked him in the arm. 'Bookstalls, a whole line of them."
Grayson was eyeing those bookstalls like a starved mongrel. Rosalind, seeing freedom
within her grasp, stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Off you go. I'll be perfectly safe with Lord Mountjoy. Go, Grayson. We will be just fine."
Nicholas's grin turned into his most responsible nod. "I swear to keep her safe." After but a moment of indecision, Grayson was off like a comet.
"He can move very quickly when properly motivated," Rosalind said.
Nicholas looked down at her upturned face. "What makes you think you'll be safe with me?"
She smiled up at his dark face, those black eyes of his. "Truth be told, I'd be perfectly safe by myself, as are you, I imagine." She eyed him up and down. "Were you to dare take liberties with my capable self, I should make you very sorry. I'm very strong, you know. And wily."
"And if you take liberties with me, then what am I to do?"