Mr. Mallard was the first to reach Lizzie's side, closely followed by Mr. Swanston and Lord Brookfell.
Three other fashionable exquisites joined the band around Lizzie, Amanda, Alice and Harriet, and within minutes an unexceptionable though thoroughly merry party had formed. Hearing one young gentleman allude to the delicate and complementary tints of the dresses of the four younger girls as "pretty as a posy," Sarah could not resist a grimace, purely for Arabella's benefit. Arabella bit hard on her lip to stifle her answering giggle. Both fell back a step or two from the younger crowd, only to fall victim to their
own admirers.
Sir Humphrey Bullard, a large man of distinctly florid countenance, attempted to capture Arabella's undivided attention but was frustrated by the simultaneous arrival of Mr. Stone, sleekly saturnine, on
her other side. Both offered their arms, leaving Arabella, with a sunshade to juggle, in a quandary. She laughed and shook her head at them both. "Indeed, gentlemen, you put me to the blush. What can a
lady do under such circumstances?"
"Why, make your choice, m'dear," drawled Mr. Stone, a strangely determined glint in his eye.
Arabella's eyes widened at this hint that Mr. Stone, at least, was not entirely happy with being played
on a string. She was rescued by Mr. Humphrey, irritatingly aware that he did not cut such a fine figure
as Mr. Stone. "I see the balloonists have arrived. Perhaps you'd care to stroll to the enclosure and
watch the inflation, Miss Arabella?"
''We'll need to get closer if we're to see anything at all," said Sarah, coming up on the arm of Lord Tulloch.
By the time they reached the area cordoned off in the centre of the large field, a crowd had gathered.
The balloon was already filling slowly. As they watched, it lifted from the ground and slowly rose to hover above the cradle slung beneath, anchored to the ground by thick ropes.
"It looks like such a flimsy contraption," said Arabella, eyeing the gaily striped silk balloon. "I wonder
that anyone could trust themselves to it."
"They don't always come off unscathed, I'm sorry to say," answered Mr. Stone, his schoolmasterish tones evincing strong disapproval of such reckless behaviour.
"Humph!" said Sir Humphrey Bullard.
Arabella's eyes met Sarah's in mute supplication. Sarah grinned.
It was not until the balloon had taken off, successfully, to Arabella's relief, and the crowd had started
to disperse that the Twinnings once more had leisure to contemplate the problem of Sir Ralph Keighly. Predictably, it was Sarah and Arabella who conceived the plot. In a few whispered sentences, they developed its outline sufficiently to see that it would require great attention to detail to make it work.
As they would have no further chance that day to talk with the others in private, they made plans to
meet the next morning at Twyford House. Caroline had mentioned her intention of visiting her old
nurse, who had left the Twinnings' employ after her mother had died and hence was unknown to the younger Twinnings. Thus, ensconced in the back parlour of Twyford House, they would be able to
give free rein to their thoughts. Clearly, the removal of Sir Ralph was becoming a matter of urgency.
Returning to their carriage, drawn up beside the elegant equipage bearing the Delmere crest, the three youngest Twinnings smiled serenely at their guardian, who watched them from the box seat of his curricle, a far from complaisant look in his eyes.
Max was, in fact, convinced that something was in the wind but had no idea what. His highly developed social antennae had picked up the undercurrents of his wards' plotting and their innocent smiles merely confirmed his suspicions. He was well aware that Caroline, seated beside him in a fetching gown of figured muslin, was not privy to their schemes. As he headed his team from the field, he smiled. His eldest ward had had far too much on her mind recently to have had any time free for scheming.
Beside him, Caroline remained in blissful ignorance of her sisters' aims. She had spent a thoroughly enjoyable day in the company of her guardian and was in charity with the world. They had had an excellent view of the ascent itself from the height of the box seat of the curricle. And when she had evinced the desire to stroll among the crowds, Max had readily escorted her, staying attentively by her side, his acerbic comments forever entertaining and, for once, totally unexceptionable. She looked forward to the drive back to Mount Street with unimpaired cahn, knowing that in the curricle, she ran
no risk of being subjected to another of His Grace's "lessons." In fact, she was beginning to wonder
how many more lessons there could possibly be before the graduation ceremony. The thought brought
a sleepy smile to her face. She turned to study her guardian.
His attention was wholly on his horses, the bays, as sweet a pair as she had ever seen. Her eyes fell to
his hands as they tooled the reins, strong and sure. Remembering the sensations those hands had drawn forth as they had knowledgeably explored her body, she caught her breath and rapidly looked away. Keeping her eyes fixed on the passing landscape, she forced her thoughts into safer fields.
The trouble with Max Rotherbridge was that he invaded her thoughts, too, and, as in other respects,
was wellnigh impossible to deny. She was fast coming to the conclusion that she should simply forget
all else and give herself up to the exquisite excitements she found in his arms. All the social and moral strictures ever intoned, all her inhibitions seemed to be consumed to ashes in the fire of her desire. She was beginning to feel it was purely a matter of time before she succumbed. The fact that the idea did
not fill her with trepidation but rather with a pleasant sense of anticipation was in itself, she felt, telling.
As the wheels hit the cobbles and the noise that was London closed in around them, her thoughts flew ahead to Lady Benborough, who had stayed at home recruiting her energies for the ball that night. It
was only this morning, when, with Max, she had bid her ladyship goodbye, that the oddity in Augusta's behaviour had struck her. While the old lady had been assiduous in steering the girls through the shoals
of the acceptable gentlemen of the ton, she had said nothing about her eldest charge's association with
her nephew. No matter how Caroline viewed it, invoke what reason she might, there was something definitely odd about that. As she herself had heard the rumours about His Grace of Twyford's very strange relationship with his eldest ward, it was inconceivable that Lady Benborough had not been
edified with their tales. However, far from urging her to behave with greater discretion towards Max, impossible task though that might be, Augusta continued to behave as if there was nothing at all
surprising in Max Rotherbridge escorting his wards to a balloon ascent. Caroline wondered what it
was that Augusta knew that she did not.
The Twinning sisters attended the opera later that week. It was the first time they had been inside the ornate structure that was the Opera House; their progress to the box organized for them by their
guardian was perforce slow as they gazed about them with interest. Once inside the box itself, in a
perfect position in the first tier, their attention was quickly claimed by their fellow opera-goers. The pit below was a teeming sea of heads; the stylish crops of the fashionable young men who took perverse delight in rubbing shoulders with the masses bobbed amid the unkempt locks of the hoi polloi. But it
was upon the occupants of the other boxes that the Twinnings' principal interest focused. These quickly filled as the time for the curtain to rise approached. All four were absorbed in nodding and waving to friends and acquaintances as the lights went out.