Mira huffed in disbelief. “Nonsense. If we look for magic, we may seem to find it, but it is not real. There is a rational explanation for every phenomenon we encounter. It just requires a little thought to find the explanation. Sometimes, it is simply easier to ascribe things to magic.”
A slow smile spreading across his face, he shook his head. “Mira, believing in magic is not easy at all. I think it is easier to close yourself off from the wonder of the world by confining yourself to order and logic.” He pointed to a bed of jonquils blooming in a window box.
“There is magic,” he said.
“The flowers?”
“Yes. Have you ever paused to wonder how they know when to open? If they bloom before the temperature is warm, they will die. If they wait too long, the summer heat will kill them off. Yet somehow, they know exactly when to bloom. Naturalists cannot predict the precise date of their flowering, but it is always the right date. The date that will give them the longest time to grace us with their beauty.”
Mira frowned. “I suppose I’ve never thought of it that way.”
“Well, now you have. The jonquils know when to bloom, and you will know when to do the same. Without reason, without logic, but with magic.”
Nicholas’s curious comment having effectively foreclosed idle conversation, they rode in silence to Hyde Park, where the fashionable had turned out in droves to take advantage of the refreshing breeze that had blown in the night before. Mira had never been to Hyde Park during these celebrated late afternoon hours. The sheer number of people was astounding. Here, young bucks came to demonstrate their skills with horse and carriage. Here, matchmaking mamas came to display their available daughters. Here, the fashionable impures came to seek new protectors. And here, courting couples came to enjoy some respectable privacy. She craned her head in every direction to take in all the sights.
And, thus, she saw trouble coming. There, heading straight toward them, was Bella in the company of a painfully pretty young man who could only be Mr. Henry Penrose. Worse yet, Bella had clearly seen Mira, as well, for she clutched Mr. Penrose’s arm and gestured urgently toward Mira and Nicholas.
Mira had only a moment to brace herself before Bella began waving and shouting excitedly. “Mira! Mira! What a wonderful surprise!” Even as Bella called Mira’s name, her inquisitive gaze was firmly trained on Nicholas. Mira knew what Bella was thinking, that she would finally have a chance to meet the monster in the flesh.
Bella’s companion expertly maneuvered his gig up alongside Nicholas’s and drew up the reins so they might stop to chat. Bella wasted no time. “Mira, may I introduce Mr. Henry Penrose. Henry, this is my cousin Miss Mirabelle Fitzhenry.” Bella, impatient for an introduction, looked pointedly back and forth between Mira and Nicholas.
With glum resignation, Mira obliged. “So pleasant to meet you, Mr. Penrose. Mr. Penrose, Bella, this is Nicholas, Lord Ashfield. My lord, permit me to introduce Mr. Henry Penrose and Miss Mirabelle Fitzhenry. My cousin.”
One side of Nicholas’s mouth quirked up a bit, but that was the only indication he gave of being surprised at meeting the other Mirabelle Fitzhenry. His voice betrayed no emotion at all when he remarked, “You must be George and Kitty’s daughter?”
Mira winced. It must have been difficult enough for Nicholas to realize the night before that he had been duped, saddled with the lesser marriageable Mirabelle Fitzhenry, but for him now to see what might have been…it was painful beyond bearing. Here Mira sat, feeling like nothing so much as a gray potato in a bright pink scarf, her garish red hair a gaudy banner atop it all. And there sat Bella, her perfectly pressed pale blue day dress setting off her sky blue eyes to perfection, her rosy lips pursed in a delicate pout, her golden ringlets framing her heart-shaped face, her pristine straw gypsy bonnet shielding her creamy skin from what little sunlight filtered through the London sky. Nicholas must be livid.
For a long and rather awkward moment, Bella thoroughly studied the infamous viscount, her narrowed gaze moving slowly down his long, rangy body, from the top of his unfashionably bare head to the tips of his well-worn boots. Apparently satisfied that he was just an ordinary man after all, Bella began chattering away. Mira was too lost in misery to pay attention. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on a spot just beyond Bella’s shoulder and did her best not to contemplate what Nicholas must be thinking. Because as soon as her mind wandered in that direction, and she thought of how she must compare to Bella, tears welled in her eyes.