A Study of Courtship-Chapter 26: The Promenade of Complications

Morning After at Hyde Park

The morning sunlight spilled gently across Hyde Park, turning the Serpentine into a wide ribbon of pale gold. The ton, still buzzing from Viscount Beaumont’s birthday ball festivities, lined the broad path in clusters—strolling, whispering, pretending not to stare at all the wrong people.

Lady Sophia Fiennes arrived at an unhurried trot atop Coriolanus, clad in her habitual navy riding habit that fit her with an ease that made debutantes and mamas alike both envy and sigh. She dismounted gracefully, oblivious to the rising wave of chatter that followed her like startled birds.

At her side walked Prince Felix, immaculate in his morning coat and looking every inch the royal envoy he was—except his eyes, which were focused with quiet intensity on one person alone.

Lady Beatrice Campbell, who walked between them, cheeks faintly flushed, hands folded with perfect composure. She carried herself with the grace that came naturally to her—light, poised, and entirely unaware that the Prince of Hanover was practically orbiting her like a very handsome moon.

The ton watched as if a play were unfolding before them.

Sophia, however, remained blissfully unaware. "...and look, Felix," she said cheerfully, pointing toward an elm tree. "See how the ducks gather in concentric formations? Herodotus would have had a field day documenting this—"

Felix smiled softly. "Indeed, Sophia."

Beatrice tried—unsuccessfully—not to stare at him.

Across the promenade, four matriarchs observed.

Duchess Arabella Huntington of Suffolk, tall and imperious as a marble statue, narrowed her eyes at the trio. Beside her stood her daughters—Marchioness Josephine Fiennes and Duchess Catherine Campbell—joined by Duchess Eleanor Montgomery.

Arabella cleared her throat first. "Josephine," she murmured, "where is Sophia’s suitor? Lord Benedict? Surely he should be at her side."

Josephine offered a strained smile. "He is here, Mama. I believe he is speaking to Viscount Darlington about horses."

Eleanor nodded apologetically. "Yes, Ben mentioned something about comparing Plutarch’s gait to Coriolanus’. I assume it is... important."

Arabella’s brows rose with the force of a small storm. "My dear Eleanor, your younger son is courting my granddaughter, is he not?"

Eleanor inhaled sharply. "...He is."

"Then why," Arabella demanded pointedly, "is he nowhere near her while she is clearly interrupting a royal courtship occurring right in front of our eyes?"

Josephine and Catherine both sighed at once—long-suffering, matching expressions of maternal resignation.

Catherine murmured, "Mama, Sophia doesn’t realize she is interrupting anything. She thinks she is merely accompanying her cousin and friend."

Arabella clicked her tongue. "Well, someone must guide her into realizing the implications of her actions. And Eleanor, your son must put in more effort. One does not court a Fiennes girl absently."

Josephine rubbed her temples.

Eleanor, for her part, managed a thin smile. "Arabella, I assure you, Benedict is very dedicated. He is... easily distracted by equestrian conversation."

Arabella waved a gloved hand.

"Fret not, Catherine," she told her younger daughter with the wide patience of a general preparing a campaign. "I will handle this."

And with that, the Duchess of Suffolk lifted her chin, stepped forward, and began marching toward her granddaughter.

At that exact moment, Benedict glanced up from a discussion about horse breeding with Kurt.

He froze.

From across the lawn, he could see it clearly:

Arabella Huntington of Suffolk was marching like the wrath of an empire toward Sophia, Felix, and Beatrice.

Benedict muttered a prayer under his breath. "Oh no. Oh no no no—"

Kurt blinked. "What is it?"

But Benedict was already excusing himself, practically running. "I’ll explain later— forgive me—"

Kurt called after him, "Ben? BEN?!"

But Benedict was already halfway across Hyde Park, weaving through promenading couples, dodging a poodle, and nearly colliding with a dowager countess.

Sophia, of course, noticed none of this.

She was explaining something about Persian naval tactics when Arabella swooped in.

"My dears," Arabella said, smiling with all the gentle menace of a ruling monarch, "what a lovely morning for a promenade."

Sophia blinked. "Grandmama! I did not expect you—"

"I can see that," Arabella replied, eyes flicking between Felix and Beatrice with laser precision.

Felix inclined his head politely. "Your Grace."

Beatrice curtsied, cheeks pink.

Sophia beamed proudly. "Grandmama, did you know Prince Felix enjoys art history—"

But Arabella lifted a finger, silencing her.

"My dear Sophia," she said sweetly, "would you be so kind as to accompany me for a moment? I need... clarification on a matter."

Sophia blinked. "Clarification?"

"Yes," Arabella said, guiding her granddaughter by the arm. "On why you are standing between your cousin and a prince who is clearly attempting to court her."

Sophia froze. "...What?"

Felix looked mortified.

Beatrice looked at the ground.

Sophia looked at both of them like they had committed treason.

"Oh," she whispered. "Oh."

And just then—just as Arabella prepared her next scolding—just as Sophia’s mind began unraveling—

Benedict finally reached them, breathless but determined. "Lady Sophia—!"

Arabella turned, eyebrow arched. "Lord Benedict. How convenient. Since you are courting my granddaughter, perhaps you can explain why she is unintentionally sabotaging a royal courtship?"

Sophia stared at Benedict, stricken.

Felix stared at the sky, wishing for divine intervention.

Beatrice stared at the ground, wishing it would swallow her.

"Your Grace," he said with a perfectly executed bow. "Forgive me. I should have been with Lady Sophia."

Arabella turned her scrutiny onto him. "And why, Lord Benedict, were you not with her?"

He swallowed. "I... was momentarily delayed by a discussion regarding horse breeding with Viscount Darlington."

Arabella arched one elegant brow. "A discussion more important than monitoring your courtship, I presume?"

Sophia turned scarlet.

Felix nearly choked.

Beatrice looked like she wanted to evaporate into the nearest rosebush.

Benedict forced a smile. "Never again, Your Grace."

Arabella sniffed, unconvinced.

Just then, Prince Felix cleared his throat. "If I may," he said, bowing slightly to the Duchess,

"I would like to formally declare that I hold... a particular admiration for Lady Beatrice Campbell."

Everyone turned. Beatrice’s eyes widened in astonishment. Even the birds went silent.

Arabella blinked. "...Your Highness I—"

Felix nodded earnestly. "She is an accomplished woman of music, language, and grace. And I... am quite taken."

Sophia let out a gasp of pure delight. "Oh! Grandmama, did you hear that? He admires Beatrice!"

Arabella’s expression flickered—shock, calculation, recognition, triumph—all in a single heartbeat. "Well," she murmured slowly, "that... changes matters."

Sophia beamed.

Felix looked relieved.

Beatrice looked like she might faint.

And Benedict— He finally exhaled. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

But Arabella’s gaze cut back to him. "As for you, Lord Benedict... you may continue your courtship of my granddaughter. But if you leave her unattended again, even for a moment, I shall have your mother hear of it."

Benedict straightened instantly. "Yes, Your Grace."

Sophia, mortified but amused, whispered, "Milord, she glared at you."

"She did," he whispered back. "And I deserved it."

Arabella turned, satisfied. "Beatrice, come. Prince Felix—walk with us."

Felix offered Beatrice his arm. She accepted with trembling poise.

Sophia watched them go, delighted. Then she looked at Benedict. "I really did interrupt a royal courtship?"

He sighed fondly. "Yes, Sophia."

"Oh."

She paused, then frowned. "...Why did no one tell me?"

Benedict could only laugh.

Kurt reached them first, slightly breathless and brushing dust from his coat as if he’d sprinted all the way from Rotten Row.

"Ben," he said, "your mother nearly tackled me—what happened?"

Before Benedict could answer, Andrew and Elizabeth joined them, the picture of composed curiosity. Andrew arched a ginger brow. Elizabeth looked between every face, immediately sensing that something entertaining had transpired.

Sophia let out a distressed sigh.

"I interrupted my cousin’s courtship with my friend," she confessed, hands clasped, shoulders tense. "But why in heaven’s name did Prince Felix not consult me about this? I introduced them last night at Ian’s birthday ball, so surely—surely—he ought to have asked for my thoughts! I am his friend, and he is courting my cousin! How does that not require my input?"

Her voice pitched upward in bafflement, as if the laws of propriety were personally betraying her.

Benedict exchanged a helpless look with Kurt.

Andrew pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

Elizabeth hid her smile behind her gloved hand.

Finally, Benedict spoke, gentle amusement softening his tone.

"Lady Fiennes... courtship does not typically involve your advisory board."

Kurt snorted.

Andrew bit the inside of his cheek.

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled.

Sophia stared at all four of them with full bewildered sincerity.

"But—but I introduced them. Does that not make me... a moderator of sorts?"

Elizabeth laughed softly. "My dear Sophia, this is not a parliamentary debate."

Kurt chimed in, "Though you treat it like one."

Benedict stepped closer—close enough that Sophia noticed, close enough that it made her cheeks warm.

"Beatrice and Prince Felix manage their feelings quite well on their own, I promise," he said softly. "You need not strategize for them."

Sophia blinked, processing this. "Truly? No advisory role at all?"

Andrew couldn’t hold it anymore. He let out a laugh that turned a few heads on the path.

Elizabeth squeezed Sophia’s arm affectionately. "No, darling. None."

Sophia exhaled dramatically. "Well. That is... most inefficient."

All four of them burst into helpless laughter.

And Benedict—eyes warm, voice soft—murmured, "And that is why we adore you, Lady Fiennes."

Sophia went scarlet.