Chapter Five
Isabella took a deep breath as the phaeton entered Hyde Park beneath the arch of the Stanhope Gate. Be calm. Be confident. But it was hard to be either calm or confident when she was this nervous.
She glanced down at Rufus. He, at least, was enjoying himself. He sat up, alert, his tongue hanging out and his ears pricked. His tail wagged, stirring the vandyked hem of her carriage dress.
Isabella took another deep breath. She squared her shoulders and scanned the thoroughfare. Curricles and a barouche, gentlemen on horseback, ladies walking—fashionable London had turned out to see and be seen. Where are you, Major Reynolds?
Despite the nerves, her conscience was easier. This was something she had to do. Her penance, if it could be called that. Not for sheltering Harriet—she
