Sedgley must think he would have no trouble snatching a kiss or two once the riders had passed, Will thought grimly. The knack would be falling in with the phaeton accidentally and then demonstrating a complete lack of tact by failing to leave Sedgley alone with his fair passenger.
* * *
At least I had the sense to wear a good stout hatpin in my bonnet, Verity thought.
She admitted to herself that she had underestimated Lord Sedgley, who was showing excellent tactics in keeping up a flow of lively chatter while sweeping her off to the most deserted area of the park with, she was sure, decidedly dubious motives. The fact that he had sent his groom off on some errand the moment they had entered Hyde Park had been indication enough of his motives. It was reassuring to think that a hatpin in the thigh and an elbow in the ribs would put paid to any nonsens
e. She had her guinea purse in her reticule—the application of that to the falls of his natty buckskin breeches might also be called for.
‘There is the most charming prospect over Kensington Palace Gardens from just the other side of that copse,’ the Viscount said with a casual air that did not deceive Verity for a moment. Although the park was as busy as her aunt had expected, the far side of the trees would shield the phaeton from the main area and from the two groups of riders who were converging on them.
She put up a hand to her bonnet as though to check it was secure, slid out the pin and held it concealed in the folds of her skirt.
They passed into the shadows. ‘Alone at last,’ Sedgley remarked, with what she could not help but feel was a shocking lack of originality as he reined in the greys and tied the reins to the whip handle. Well trained, the horses stood quite still.
It was all very well to be prepared and armed with a sharp hatpin, Verity discovered, but the way the trees shut off the rest of the park was more comprehensive than she had imagined. There might not have been another person for miles around.
‘I cannot see a view of the Gardens. We should drive on.’
‘I must have mistaken this for a different clump of trees,’ Sedgley said. ‘But never mind. This gives us a charming opportunity to get to know each other better, don’t you think?’
His arm went around her waist before she could reply and his lips met her cheek. Head turned away, Verity whipped out the hatpin and stabbed blindly at the thigh now pressed against hers on the narrow seat. Sedgley swore and jerked away and must, she realised, have knocked against the whip in its holder, pulling the reins.
The team of greys snorted and backed, the phaeton, swaying on its high springs, lurched and Verity, off balance as she recoiled from the Viscount, went over the low side rail.
* * *
Nothing actually hurt too much, which was a relief, although she had no desire to get up, or open her eyes, especially as a pair of strong arms was holding her against what felt like an impressively solid chest and a male voice was murmuring reassurances into her hair.
Will. He does care... How...how wonderful.
Wonderful? Verity dragged herself out of an increasingly warm, fuzzy daydream and back to reality. Whoever was holding her did not smell like Will, did not sound like Will and what on earth was she doing wanting it to be Will?
She opened her eyes, blinked. ‘Thomas Harrington?’
‘Kindly lay the lady down, sir.’
Now, that is Will.
‘I am a friend of the family and will take care of her.’
‘I am also well acquainted with Miss Wingate,’ Thomas began as Verity sat up abruptly. ‘And as a man of the cloth—’
‘It has been a long time, Mr Harrington,’ she said as coolly as she could manage with her hair coming down, her skirts twisted around her knees and a growing sense of panic choking the words. Then a groan made her look beyond Thomas’s shoulder to where Lord Sedgley was hauling himself to his feet by means of a carriage wheel. ‘What happened to the Viscount?’
‘I hit him,’ Will said.
‘Good.’ She pulled her skirts down to cover her legs. ‘Thank you.’
Will came down on one knee beside her on the other side to Thomas, whom he ignored. ‘Are you much hurt, Miss Wingate?’
‘A little bruised. Luckily I did not land on the trackway, but on the turf.’ The trees and the grass and the sky were still not quite steady or in their right place and she rubbed at her eyes. ‘I did not faint. I think I must have been disorientated by the fall.’
‘Rest a little, Verity—Miss Wingate,’ Thomas said. ‘Then when you feel strong enough I will take you up before me on my horse.’
‘Certainly not,’ Verity said, her words colliding with Will’s.
‘You will do no such thing, sir.’