Charming Miss Atherton

Nine

"If one wishes to throw a successful party, it is critical to attain the unattainable guest." -Bridget's cousin, Lady Helen congratulating herself upon securing Lord Ripley's acceptance to her dinner party.

Ripley saw nothing advantageous in divulging the details of his afternoon to Miss Atherton. If he did, it would likely upset her. Miss Atherton looked demure sipping her wine and studying him from beneath her long black lashes at the dinner table. Ripley could scarcely tear his eyes away from her. She looked lovely in a peach gown with ivory lace bordering the collar. All traces of dirt and tears had been washed away and her skin illuminated with warmth in the dim candlelight.

As Ripley regarded Miss Atherton with a longing but stifled sigh, he could not help but wonder if she suspected what he had been about all afternoon. Surely, she must have considered the possibility that Ripley might confront Mr. Parbaker? Wouldn't she? Or perhaps she had put the whole affair out of her mind. Ripley glanced over with a raised eyebrow. Miss Atherton seemed to be intent on enjoying their last evening together in Reigate.

Miss Atherton was discussing details of their departure for London to which Ripley found himself nodding absently. His mind was elsewhere. When he was not concentrating on the loveliness of Miss Atherton's form, he was musing over whether the concealment of his meeting with Mr. Parbaker threatened to damage his easy friendship with her.

Ripley wished to be open and honest with Miss Atherton in all things, but the timing was of the essence. It was highly probable that Miss Atherton would not look at his intervention with a friendly eye. It also occurred to Ripley that the best place to relay any news from his meeting with Mr. Parbaker would be best served during the coach ride to London. The Atherton's paneled coach allowed the necessary privacy as well as the opportunity for him to justify his actions with little embarrassment to Miss Atherton, or himself for that matter. And if the conversation took a turn for the worse, the option of riding his horse outside the carriage remained available to him.

Yes, Ripley thought with a smile, the ride to London was the perfect moment to disclose the details of his confrontation with Mr. Timothy Parbaker.

It was no secret that Mr. Parbaker spent a great deal of time caring after all the animals that resided in the Reigate stables. It was also no secret that since the arrival of Miss Atherton, Timothy spent many hours laboring over her two horses, Lyle and Oliver. Timothy constantly fussed and busied about them.

They were probably the most well-looked after horseflesh in all of His majesty's kingdom, Ripley thought wryly as he walked through the stable doors.

Mr. Parbaker whistled an unfamiliar melody in the back. Ripley could hear the swish sound of a boar brush bristles smoothing over coarse hair. Ripley approached Timothy with a casual gait, placing his arm nonchalantly on a nearby post.

Mr. Parbaker did not look up or acknowledge Ripley. He was too engrossed in grooming Lyle. It only took Ripley a moment to catch that Mr. Parbaker used Lyle and Oliver as symbols of his devotion for Miss Atherton. Their coats positively gleamed.

"Mr. Parbaker," Ripley said in a firm tone.

Timothy jumped from his feet. "Lord Ripley! How do you do?"

"I do very well, Mr. Parbaker," replied Ripley.

"Should you be wishing to take a ride this afternoon? Your horse, Sir Charles, still needs new horseshoes and cannot ride until then, but I have just finished with Mr. Lyle here if you'd like to run him."

"Thank you, no."

"What can I do for you then?" Timothy asked.

"Miss Atherton's coach must be prepared for immediate departure. I trust you will have Lyle and Oliver dressed and saddled by first light?"