The Art of Love Read Free

anything by it. From the nearby alcove there came a rich, throaty chuckle and Leo turned instinctively, but the woman in red was engrossed with Hulme and completely oblivious to him. For a moment he had thought her amusement was for him and Miss Palmer, but she did not seem to have noticed his existence, which, Leo had to admit to himself, was not surprising given the understated way in which he was dressed. He resigned himself to spending a few minutes exchanging pleasantries with Antonia. ‘Do you paint, Miss Palmer?’ he asked.
    But conversation with Miss Palmer proved to be more long lived than that. Freddie was right, his cousin was charming in a naive, school-girl sort of a way and Leo found he couldn’t heartlessly desert her after only a few minutes.
    ‘Would you like a glass of… lemonade, Miss Palmer?’ he asked eventually, steering her over to the sideboard where a small group of people not much older than Antonia had congregated. He recognised one as the younger brother of a friend and hastily introduced Freddie’s cousin. Lieutenant Mason’s eyes lit up appreciatively when Antonia was presented to him and he looked even more pleased when he realised Leo intended to leave the girl in his care. Leo grinned to himself as he turned away and looked around the room for the lady in red. But, frustratingly, she had left her alcove and as he strolled through Freddie’s house it became apparent that she was no longer at the party. He tried to put her out of his mind, after all they had never even met, but something about her made her impossible to dismiss. He singled out Freddie. He wouldn’t do anything as gauche as to ask who the lady was, but he chatted to him amicably for a while, determined to secure an invitation to Freddie’s next little gathering.
     
    The following afternoon Tara dressed in a pale yellow muslin dress with a matching bonnet. It wasn’t her most becoming dress, and she had also been tempted to don a faded green serge pelisse which made her look much older than her twenty four years, in an attempt to make herself less appealing to Rodney. But she didn’t wish to embarrass him on his Phaeton’s maiden voyage so she merely packed a light shawl into her reticule and settled for looking ordinary.
    Rodney drew up outside her town house promptly at three o’clock, far too engrossed in his vehicle to notice what Tara was wearing. At least that was what she assumed from the way in which he took her arm and rushed her down the steps to admire his coach and horses, without even a token compliment on her appearance. Bemused, Tara made an effort to praise.
    ‘The Phaeton looks very… sleek,’ she said, ‘and the horses are beautiful.’ They were; the brown of their coats gleamed in the afternoon sunlight and they clattered on the cobbles as they waited as if keen to be off, but at the same time they seemed very even-tempered, nudging each other from time to time as if in conversation and without a hint of aggression. Tara patted the neck of the nearest, glad she had chosen not to bother with gloves today, enjoying the feeling of the warm, dry hair beneath her hand. The animal turned and nuzzled against her as if wanting to get to know her better and Tara had to concede that Rodney knew how to choose horses.
    ‘The geldings are brothers,’ Rodney said as he handed her up into the carriage. ‘It pays to have good mannered beasts that are happy in each others’ company. But for all that, they’ve plenty of spirit in them as you’ll see.’ He flicked the reins once. ‘Trot on.’
    Tara had to admit that the Phaeton was the most comfortable vehicle she had yet travelled in, it was well sprung, with gleaming leather upholstery and the horses worked beautifully together. The result was a smooth ride, whisking through the narrow streets, as if far removed from the cobbles and debris below and on arriving at the park she felt quite refreshed.
    In the park Rodney slowed the horses to a walk and