Sara said in a choked voice. "They are too personal. It sounds… it sounds too much like flattery or courtship."
"I but speak the truth, my lady," he said meekly, "but if I am distressing you, I will find some unarguable boring topic. How about horses? These hired job horses do not please me. Where might I purchase better ones?"
Her voice easier, Lady Sara said, "The best place is Tattersall's Repository, just south of Hyde Park Corner. Most of the best horses are sent there for auction. Besides having a reputation for honest dealing, it is very fashionable. Perhaps Ross can take you this afternoon. During the summer, Monday is the only sale day, so if you don't go today you will have to wait another week for the next one."
"We are almost at Hyde Park Corner now. Which direction should I turn?"
Sara pointed. "Tattersall's is down to the left, off Upper Grosvenor Place, but you can't go there now. Or rather, you can, but I can't."
When they reached the corner, Peregrine turned the curricle in the direction she indicated. "Why can't you go there?"
"Tattersall's is almost a gentlemen's club," she explained. "Everyone important in racing belongs to the Subscription Room. Men go there to settle gambling debts, see friends, and tell boring hunting stories. It's definitely no place for females."
Peregrine pulled the curricle over to the side of the road so he could give her his full attention. "What would happen if you went with me? Would you be stoned?"
"Of course not!"
"Is there a law against it, and you would be arrested?" he asked with interest. "Sent to Newgate, or put into
purdah
and never allowed out again?"
"Neither."
"Then what is the problem?"
"It is just not done," she said, exasperated at his obtuseness. "Everyone would stare and be scandalized."
Just how deep did Lady Sara's conventionality run? Unable to resist finding out, Peregrine said, "If you do not wish to come, I will not force you. But do you truly care what others think?"
She opened her mouth to reply, then closed it without speaking. After a long moment, she said, "The only opinions I really care about are those of my friends and family. But obeying the rules makes life simpler."
"Simpler, perhaps, but so much less interesting. Have you never wondered what men do in their cherished male sanctums?"
Lady Sara began to laugh. "You're impossible," she gasped. "I will never succeed in educating you in the ways of London society. Instead, you are going to corrupt me."
Peregrine smiled down at her. Today she wore a daffodil-colored morning gown that brought out gold flecks in her wide brown eyes. A most charming and original woman; she must not be allowed to fall into Weldon's clutches. "Sweet Sara," he said softly, "will you let me corrupt you?"
Her laughter died away and for a moment she looked startled, as if wondering whether his comment covered more than just the present situation. Then she smiled back. Peregrine's greatest advantage was that apparently it had not occurred to the lady that her cousin's friend could have improper designs on her.
"I should love to see Tattersall's. Turn right there, just beyond St. George's Hospital. And for heaven's sake," she added with a touch of asperity, "remember to call me Lady Sara."
It was still early by the standards of the fashionable world so Tattersall's was quieter than it would be later in the day. However, every man in the establishment turned to stare when Sara and the prince entered the main courtyard.
"You were quite right." Peregrine's low voice brimmed with amusement. "Such shock at the sight of a female. One would think these gentlemen had never seen one before. And I thought British society was supposed to be liberal. I am reminded of rural parts of the Ottoman Empire, where modest Turkish farm women wear veils when they feed roosters, to protect themselves from the danger of a male gaze. Do you suppose the gentlemen would be happier if they wore veils to protect themselves from your
T. K. F. Weisskopf Mark L. Van Name