mass of waves with blotches of white dough sticking this way and that. His eyes were on Caroline until he was but a few feet from the carriage, and then his gaze flicked to meet Phoebe’s glare.
The grin faded abruptly, and his cheeks reddened. Good. Perhaps her sophisticated disapproval put him in mind of where he was and with whom he was speaking.
“Mrs. Kimball,” he said, bowing from his place at the side of the path. “Good afternoon.”
Caroline laughed, the cheerful sound causing Phoebe to grit her teeth. Everyone in the vicinity would stare at them. “Please, Griffin, we have known each other since our infancy. Call me Caroline.”
That brought Phoebe’s attention back to her sister-in-law. “I did not know you were so familiarly acquainted with this man.” She spoke without thought, then pressed her lips tightly together. But really, she had been shocked into the exclamation.
Caroline was not at all put out. “Of course. Why would I not be? My family and the Fenwicks have been intimately connected for years. Our fathers’ estates adjoin one another.” Caroline batted her pretty, blonde lashes at Phoebe, but that placating trick only worked on Phoebe’s older brother. “Please, allow me to introduce you. Phoebe, this is Mr. Griffin Fenwick. Griffin, this is my sister-in-law, Miss Phoebe Kimball.”
Phoebe’s good manners forced her to turn to the gentleman, staring down into his twinkling blue-gray eyes as he bowed. He kept his gaze directed at her through the gesture, which made her blink. Men normally did not appraise her so openly.
“Miss Kimball, it is a pleasure to meet you at last. Your sister-in-law spoke of you a great deal last time she visited Essex.” He straightened after she gave him a brief nod, his expression still one of amusement.
“I have heard her speak of you, on occasion. My brother had the most to say after meeting you.” Phoebe refrained from mentioning that her elder brother, Caroline’s husband, mostly commented on the man’s ability to make others laugh. Not much else was said about him, in his favor or otherwise. Likely, the man was little more than a fool.
Usually, when someone stared down their nose at Griffin, he did not care. The opinions of others, even pretty young misses with pert noses, were of little importance to him. On more than one occasion he had seen the bores of Society grimace at his antics. But it was rare someone so young refused to see the humor in his escapades, and it gave him pause.
“I rather liked your brother,” he told Miss Phoebe Kimball. “A good chap, really.” It somewhat surprised him that a man who seemed as eager to laugh as Mr. Joseph Kimball would have a sister with such a stern and disapproving countenance.
The young woman’s smile appeared, though it was tight as a miser’s fist. Shame. She was likely more than pretty when she smiled. Her eyes slid away from him, back to the line of open carriages finally beginning to stir on Rotten Row.
“Caroline,” she said, her delicate eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “Look. Mr. Milbourne is coming closer.” She adjusted her posture and widened her eyes.
Griffin raised his eyebrows at Caroline. She met his gaze and shrugged, one corner of her mouth tightening as though to say to him, I haven’t any idea what she sees in him.
“Have you a wish to meet Mr. Milbourne?” Griffin asked, keeping his tone light. He and Milbourne had gone to Oxford at the same time, and they now belonged to the same club. Griffin rather pitied any woman who wound up with the man. He had no thought for the feelings of others, living only for his own pleasure. Rumor was he had become quite the gambler of late, too, to the distress of his family.
Miss Kimball cut him a look from the corner of her eye. “Do you know him, Mr. Fenwick?”
“Somewhat.” Was it his place to tell the young woman the man she wished to meet was a crass and arrogant imbecile? Likely not. He shrugged. “I can introduce you, if you wish.”
Noticing more sticky dough upon his shoulder, Griffin grimaced. He must still have quite a bit in his hair. He started combing his fingers through it again, drawing out sticky white clumps into his fingers. The young woman leaned away, though it would be quite impossible for any of the dough to land upon her as she was above and several feet away from him.
“That would make this outing worthwhile