The Ice Captain's Daughter (9 page)

“I think we should be good friends. Do call me Sophia.”

On the ride home, Jillian gazed at the scenery without comment. Her muted demeanor did not escape her aunt’s notice.

“You did not have to agree to go riding with Miss Watkins tomorrow afternoon, you know,” Aunt Letty said.

“Yes, but if I had declined, it would have seemed odd. Since Lady Adams offered us the use of her stables, I did not wish to appear ungrateful.”

“Oh, I agree you’ve acted prudently, but I don’t like to see you unhappy.”

“Forgive me, Aunt Letty. I’m not at all unhappy. It’s just that my meeting with Miss Watkins—Sophia—was unexpected.”

“And not entirely welcome.”

“Exactly. I did not expect her to be quite so beautiful, nor so congenial.”

“I would certainly be on my guard with Miss Watkins if I were you,” Aunt Letty said. “At this point, her motives are unclear.”

“True. And although I am inclined to think ill of Miss Watkins, perhaps our deeper acquaintance will absolve her of blame in her dealings with Mr. Logan.”

Or perhaps I will convict her more firmly.

Chapter Six

A Toast to Miss Roring

A
TOP
H
ER
B
ORROWED
P
ONY
, Jillian surveyed the broad riding path in Hyde Park known as Rotten Row. The long straight track was filled with groups or pairs of riders in fashionable apparel. Clad in her brand new riding habit of lightweight navy wool, Jillian was genuinely elated to partake of an activity traditionally favored by London society—despite her unfortunate riding companion. Sophia was similarly dressed, but her habit was an eye-catching deep periwinkle blue.

“I know you want to gossip, so you may ride on ahead a bit, girls,” Mrs. Watkins said.

“Thank you, Mama,” Sophia said.

“Thank you, Mrs. Watkins,” Jillian echoed.

Atop her mare, Mrs. Watkins kept a discreet distance behind as Sophia and Jillian guided their mounts onto the sandy track. Sophia set the pace at a little more than a walk.

“Why on Earth is this place called Rotten Row?” Jillian asked.

“It’s a bit of a joke. About two hundred years ago it was called
Route de Roi
and the name evolved over time.”

“Kings Road,” Jillian translated.

“Ah, you speak French.” Sophia paused. “Have you been presented at court?”

“I was presented before Easter. I met Her Majesty one other time, in a manner of speaking. My father, Captain Roring, is a favorite of hers. He took me to the palace when I was a baby.”

Sophia laughed. “What a precious story. I was presented at court last spring. I wore an exquisite gown with a ten-foot train. Her Majesty even remarked on my looks. Isn’t that lovely?”

“What a wonderful honor!”

“Your papa…he’s the Ice Captain, is he not?”

Jillian smiled. The nickname never failed to delight her. “Yes.”

“You might not want to mention that to anyone else.”

“Why not?”

Sophia wrinkled her pert nose. “I’m sure he’s a very good sort of man but importing ice is an awful lot like being in trade.”

Shocked, Jillian didn’t know how to respond. Sophia mistook her expression for fear.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’re friends, so your secret is safe with me.”

“I thank you, truly, but I don’t have anything to conceal as far as my father is concerned.”

Sophie gave Jillian a pretty little pout, as if she were a small child who’d just been caught doing something naughty. “Please don’t be vexed with me. Mama says I blurt out truths in an unvarnished fashion and it’s frightfully rude. For example, may I tell you I’m terribly envious of your hair? You’ve the appearance of an angel. Your coloring and mine are quite the opposite of one another. We’re marvelously balanced.”

“You flatter me. I can’t imagine you being envious of anything.”

A delicate peal of laughter bubbled up from Sophia’s throat.

“Can you not? I
knew
you were amiable.”

Logan and Hawkins had donned their best clothes for Rotten Row. Logan was astride glossy and sleek Tuxano, while Hawkins rode a handsome chestnut quarter horse.

“Hawkins, when you said I should get back on the horse, you meant it literally, didn’t you?” Logan chuckled.

“Leaving our calling cards everywhere won’t be enough. We must be seen out and about, Logan. You must quash the rumors of your broken heart.”

“And you must allay fears that you became engaged over the winter.”

As he spoke, the image of Miss Roring flashed into Logan’s mind. Hawkins had no idea how close
he’d
come to being engaged recently. Not even the greatest affection for his friend, however, would induce Logan to confess it. If he wanted to claim an acquaintance with Miss Roring, he would have to seek a proper introduction through mutual friends—the more highly placed, the better. The challenge would be to find a mutual friend willing to introduce him.

Logan and Hawkins trotted along the track, pausing frequently to greet persons they knew. All of the young ladies sat up straighter in their sidesaddles when Logan approached. The girls sent appreciative glances and dazzling smiles his way, until their chaperones shooed their charges along. Hawkins was not without admirers. To his dismay, the three Ogleby sisters rode their matched trio of Palomino ponies across his path, along with their ambitious mother. Logan laughed inwardly as he waited for Hawkins to artfully fend off a naked solicitation to call at the Ogleby household the following afternoon.

Tuxano pawed the sand beneath his hooves and tossed his head as another pair of female riders drew close. Logan glanced over, and his stomach dropped. Miss Sophia Watkins was gazing at him as if she were a beautiful, spoiled cat contemplating a bowl of cream. Worse, she was in the company of Miss Roring.

Jillian’s heart began to pound long before Logan happened to see her. From many yards away, his broad shoulders and athletic frame could perhaps be mistaken for someone else—but his mount Tuxano could not.
What is Mr. Logan doing here? I thought he’d foresworn society altogether.
When Sophia directed her mount toward Tuxano, Jillian had little choice but to follow.

As they approached, Logan lifted his hat in greeting.

“Good afternoon, Miss Watkins.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Logan,” Sophia replied.

When Logan’s eyes slid past Sophia and locked onto Jillian, a surge of pleasure ran down her spine. She fought to keep her countenance.
I must not appear to know him.

“Jillian, allow me to introduce Mr. Logan to you. Mr. Logan, this is my friend, Miss Roring.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Roring.”

“Thank you, Mr. Logan,” Jillian replied.

“Have you been in town long, sir?” Sophia asked.

“Since yesterday. I expect you are looking forward to the delights of the Season?”

“Indeed I am, as is Miss Roring.”

A fair-haired gentlemen on a chestnut stallion joined Logan at that moment.

“Miss Watkins! What a pleasant surprise.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hawkins.”

Sophia introduced Jillian to Hawkins, whose merry smile invited one of her own.

“It’s a pleasure, sir,” Jillian said.

Although both men were very handsome, the differences between the two were marked. Hawkins was instantly congenial and friendly whereas Logan was somewhat broody and reserved. Yet Jillian found her eyes drawn inexorably to Logan, almost like a flower reaching toward the sun.

“Tell me, Miss Roring, why have I never happened to see you before?” Hawkins asked.

“I was raised in Gloucester.”

“Why that’s not terribly far from my estate in the Cotswolds! Logan and I are neighbors, in fact.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Perhaps—”

But Mrs. Watkins rode up then, and whatever Logan had been meaning to say was lost in another round of greetings, pleasantries, and then farewells. Although etiquette demanded Jillian not look back after she’d ridden on, she could not help stealing the briefest of glimpses. Logan was watching as she rode away—or was he watching Sophia?

Hawkins gave Logan a sympathetic smile. “That was unfortunate, meeting Miss Watkins so soon.”

“Perhaps since I was dreading it, it was for the best. At least it’s over now.”

“Her friend Miss Roring is very striking indeed.”

“If you intend to woo her along with Miss Fairley and Miss Heathrow, you will be quite busy.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would say your voice had a bit of an edge just now. Might I detect some interest in the girl yourself?”

“No. I’ve already told you I intend to remain unmarried.”

Hawkins chortled. “I don’t believe that.”

“As you like.”

“All is fair in love and war, my friend. I say we both throw our hats into the ring and see which one of us the young lady prefers.”

“Miss Roring is hardly a game of billiards!”

“You should hope not. Otherwise, you will lose. Besides which, it’s bad luck for you she’s a good friend of Miss Watkins.”