Not even the goings-on of last night could have prevented Miss Davis from rousing early the next morning. After partaking of a substantial breakfast at the advance hour of eight, she’d seen fit to have a morning walk in Hyde Park, and had prevailed upon her cousin, Miss Sophie Winscott, to accompany her to this jaunt. The invitation had been accepted with a great deal of disinclination; Miss Winscott, no early riser, had been remorselessly stirred from sleep at an hour which she denounced as ungodly, and no sooner had she got up from her bed than she coveted its warmth once more. The impulse was checked, though, when Caroline shot her an entreating look, complained that Lady Mortimer’s ball last night had extremely fagged her to death, and asserted that to step outside for some air would do her a worldly good. To which Cousin Sophie responded with incredulity, noting that despite her protestations, she could see that the only thing that was not evident in her cousin’s small form was the lack of torpidity. But since she was fond of her, and was given to indulging her little cousin’s whims, she consented with a sigh, and completely resigned to her fate.
They sallied forth, and after journeying through the streets for several minutes they reached the park lane and entered Hyde Park through the Grosvenor Gate. Arms entwined, two cousins sauntered on the foot path, and embarked on a light conversation.
“You are too cruel to me, my dear,” said Sophie in a teasingly chiding tone. “To drag me from my bed so early! I declare I would be vexed with you the next time you’ll do it!”
Caroline dimpled at her. “I promise you there will be no next time!”
“And to say that you were fagged to death — fiddlesticks! Why, I’ve never seen such a sprightly creature so early in the morning!”
“I daresay you didn’t, for how could you, pray, when you wake up so late?”
Miss Winscott laughed despite herself. “No, how could I, indeed? Staying up until small hours always leaves me prostrate with fatigue. Besides, I am a heavy sleeper in the extreme, so it will be futile to wake me up unless — ” she threw her a look of reproach, “one is to shake me incessantly as you did!”
“Now that I think of it, the water jug might have proved to be more useful,” quipped her incorrigible cousin. “But it would be messy, I daresay, and I didn’t want you to be wet, so I’d settled on shaking instead.”
“Horrible!” exclaimed Miss Winscott. “That would be the shabbiest thing; however, since I believe that there is no mean bone in your body, I’m sure I can sleep till noon without any fear at all.” After some time, she told her: “You know, Lady Mortimer’s ball last night would have been tedious were it not for that little squabble in the ballroom. You wouldn’t have imagined it, my dear, for it was really the most shocking thing — ! But that puts me in mind of something! Where had you gone last night, Caro?”
Caroline let out a hearty yawn behind her hand before answering nonchalantly: “I told you I was at Lady Mortimer’s garden.”
“Stepping out for some air, no doubt!” Sophie returned with faint sarcasm.
“Well, of course!”
“But surely you didn’t stay in the garden for nearly an hour?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” Miss Davis bit her lip, momentarily vacillating whether or not to tell her cousin of her adventure last night. She finally chose what she deemed the wisest path. “I must tell you something Sophie, but promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to my Aunt Emilia, will you?” she implored, but her eyes were alight with excitement that aroused suspicion and foreboding in her cousin’s bosom at once.
YOU ARE READING
Like No Other
Historical FictionWHEN AN UNLIKELY SUITOR.... The Earl of Stokeford is hardly a man of amiable disposition and social graces. He scowls whenever he pleases, becomes rude at any time convenient for him, and worse, has a regrettable tendency to scare ladies out of thei...