Living London - By Kristin Vayden Page 0,36

status to find out where he was or what he was doing. I had to either wait for an opportunity or for him to call on me.

But patience was a virtue I had yet to master. Frustrated, I decided to take a walk through Hyde Park. It wasn't the "fashionable hour for a walk," as Mrs. Trimbleton had explained—that took place around four p.m. But I needed some air.

The process of changing into a "walking dress" amused me. Who knew there were dresses for walking, or any other activity? It was fascinating, all the polite clothes one had to wear during this era. Walking dresses, riding habits, ball gowns, attire for home… the list went on. I still missed my jeans, but the extravagantly feminine air was growing on me. And even though I wasn’t wearing any makeup, I didn't feel naked like I would have back home. Here, no one else had it on either.

Putting on the only straw bonnet I could stomach wearing, I wondered why the English were so obsessed with remaining freckle-free when they rarely ever saw the sun. Rain did not cause freckles or a tan if my translucent white skin were any indicator.

Libby had wanted to accompany me on my walk, but I told her I'd be all right on my own. If I could attend a ball without a chaperone, I certainly didn't need one on a walk so close to home. As I strolled through the park, I noted the trees and wondered if any of them would still be there in a few hundred years. Ironic.

"Miss Westin!" called a strangely familiar voice.

"Miss Westin!" came a second voice, different but similar to the first.

Spinning on my heel, I looked in the direction of the voices. Perched on a dangerously high curricle were the Dannberry brothers. "Fancy meeting you here again!" the older one said.

"Indeed! You're looking well! How are you?" the other one added.

"I'm doing well. I remember the correct year today!"

"Fantastic, we're glad to hear it!"

"We saw you at the Langton's crush," the elder commented. "Wanted to save you from that Haymore fellow but didn't make it in time. Apologies about that."

"Thank you. Your heroics are appreciated."

"Ah, he's never heroic, miss. I'm the heroic one. You need help, just remember to call on ol' George here. I figure I owe you with my spooking your horse earlier."

"You're too kind. There's no hard feelings."

"Kinder than you deserve," mumbled the other brother.

"You wouldn't know kind if it bit your nose, you sour old frog."

"Frog? That's the best you can come up with? Frog? Ribbit, ribbit. Better than being an overgrown…"

"Gentlemen, please," I interceded, not wanting them to fall off their precarious perch. Both men had been standing up, and I could see the ton gossip. Brothers fall to their deaths while fighting over Miss Jocelyn Westin's honor. "You are both honorable gentlemen, and I'm thankful to count you as friends," I soothed, and it was true. The elderly brothers were amusing but had no ulterior motives, and I appreciated that particular trait.

"Thank you, Miss Westin." They spoke in unison as they once again took their seats. "We'd best be off," George added. "Be sure to save us a dance next time. And oh, if ol' Haymore asks for another waltz, you just tell him I’ve already secured that dance, understand? That should keep that dimwit away."

Smiling to myself, I nodded my head and watched them leave, arguing over whose turn it was to drive. I hadn't gone more than a few steps when I heard my name called again.

"Miss Westin?" Morgan's clear voice sped up my heartbeat. Despite it not being the fashionable hour, I sure was running into a lot of people.

"Lord Ashby, how wonderful to see you," I commented, wishing I could call him by his first name.

"I was just about call on you."

"Well, here I am." I spread my arms out and tilted my head playfully.

"Indeed. Care to join me on a ride?"

"Of course."

He helped me into the carriage and shut the door. I sank into the soft velvet seat as he sat across from me. "As much as you were praying for rain the other night, I didn't think you'd appreciate the downpour we're sure to have in the near future, thus the closed carriage."

"I appreciate your planning ahead. No one cares to be caught in a downpour. The wet dog look is one I can't wear with grace."

He laughed at my joke.

"I wanted to see you," he confessed,