The Romany Heiress by Nikki Poppen

need
some walking around money. A lady of even modest
station would have a few guineas in her reticule for such small purchases. Outwardly he smiled and gave a
small bow to Cecile. “After luncheon I am yours to
command. We shall go to the ribbon vendors and then
on to look at the mares Alain thought would be suitable
for you.”

    “Spelthorne, darling, I’ve heard the most delectable
bit of news” Candice sailed up and inserted herself into
the group, making sure she wedged between he and
Cate. Giles felt instantly wary.
    When she was certain she commanded everyone’s attention, she continued, “There’s to be races today. Some
of the horse sellers are eager to show off the quality of
the horse flesh” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I
know we can’t expect the quality of the thoroughbreds
we’re used to watching at Epsom or Newmarket, but
still the thought of races adds some excitement to the
day.” Candice turned to Cate. “Especially some excitement for you.”
    Giles saw a dangerous spark light Cate’s green eyes.
“Why would that be, Lady FoxHaughton?” Her innocent tone boded ill for Candice. He wondered if Candice was aware of the pot she stirred.
    The slight jerk of Candice’s head indicated she was
taken back by the directness of Cate’s question, but she
only hesitated for a moment. Her tone was pointed and
left no room for misinterpretation. “Because I am sure
you don’t get any such entertainments being tucked
away in the remote countryside as you are.”
    The message was catty and clear, with no retort that
wouldn’t be outright provoking. For an awful moment, Giles feared Cate would not exercise restraint but Isabella intervened with a well-placed comment and
averted disaster.

    “Are we ready to look at ribbons? I can’t eat another
bite.”
    There was no shaking Candice after that. Instead of
spending the afternoon with some of her female contemporaries who had been invited to the party, Candice
insinuated herself into the ranks of Giles’s friends.
Technically, Giles could not fault her. She was his hostess, and it was assumed here as it was in London that
they were together.
    She was putting that assumption on full display today,
Giles noted grimly as she doggedly clung to his right
arm, leaving Cate to become uncomfortably aware of the
odd number of women to men in their little group. But
Candice’s petty victory was short-lived. Giles smiled to
see that Cate refused to be intimidated by such maneuvering. His grin widened when Tristan deftly moved in to
offer his free arm to Cate, who declined it with a laugh.
    “La! Moreland, you’re the devil to think to steal me
away from right under my cousin’s nose!” She used the
opportunity to link her arm through Giles’s left, much
to Candice’s chagrin.
    Giles joined in with her jest. “It’s a good thing a
man’s got two arms when there’s so many pretty women
around.”
    Outwardly they made a gay party, going from stall to
stall and exclaiming over the gewgaws on display, some
ranging from a milkmaid’s cheap fripperies to luxury items all the way from France brought to the fair particularly to catch the eye of a gentleman with means to afford such quality.

    On Cecile’s recommendation, they bought cakes of
French milled soap. Giles had found it easy to purchase
the soap for his cousin, although he had not found it
easy to fathom the expression in her eyes when he’d
handed her the cakes, neatly wrapped in a square of
white cloth and tied with a lilac-colored ribbon.
    At the ribbon stall, Cecile held up a narrow satin
length of cherry-colored ribbon. “There, it would be
perfect woven through your hair,” she said to Cate. “Do
persuade her, Giles. It would be perfect for the ball tomorrow night.”
    The dratted ball to close the house party. He hadn’t
wanted one but Candice had insisted that an entertainment of this level would be incomplete without one.
Now