Azalea (17 page)

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CHAPTER 9

"Miss Clayton!" Lord Glaedon exclaimed, with
every appearance of pleasure. "I did not know you were in the habit
of riding before breakfast. Might I join you? It is rare to see a
lady abroad so early." He pulled up when his horse drew even with
hers.

"So I have discovered, my lord;" Azalea
replied, wondering if he could hear the hammering of her heart. "I
have always been an early riser, and here I am frequently
hard-pressed to find anything to do before the household is awake."
She noticed that Tom had dropped back out of earshot, though he
kept her well within view.

"You have taken to riding to relieve your
boredom?" Lord Glaedon asked with a hint of his usual sardonic
manner.

"As a matter of fact, this is my first ride
since coming to London. I have only just acquired this mare and was
anxious to try her paces."

"She's quite a little beauty," said Lord
Glaedon appreciatively, casting a knowing eye over the horse. "Did
you choose her yourself?"

"Actually, no," replied Azalea, reluctant to
mention Lord Kayce. "But I doubt I could have done any better if I
had." Reaching forward, she patted the mare on her beautifully
arched neck. "She has the cleanest lines I've ever seen, and in
Virginia I had the chance to see some absolutely prime animals, I
can assure you."

Azalea glanced quickly at the Earl, watching
again for any flicker of recognition or anger at her mention of
America. Again she detected nothing. His eyes were still on the
mare.

"Yes, I had heard that there were some
exceptional breeding farms in the New World," he said after a
moment. "Perhaps someday I'll attempt the trip again."

A fleeting expression of
pain crossed his handsome face, but Azalea thought that only
natural considering his loss on the last crossing. She was
almost—
almost
—
convinced that he truly had no memory of his time in
Virginia.

"That stallion is a fine example of
horseflesh as well," she said, in an attempt to change the subject.
She had no wish to antagonize him—at least not right now.

"Yes, Sultan is my pride and joy. And I did
choose him myself," said Lord Glaedon with the first twinkle she
had seen in his eyes since she first met him again in London. She
felt a flutter of response deep within her.

"I would never have suspected otherwise,
with your knowledge of horses," she returned with a tentative
smile.

She vividly remembered how enthusiastic he
had been on the subject of horses six years ago. Perhaps if she
could keep him on that topic, some spark of their old friendship,
along with a glimmer of memory, might be rekindled.

"And how did you know of that, may I ask? Is
it such common knowledge?" asked Lord Glaedon, with a surprised
lift of his brows.

Azalea swallowed, but covered her momentary
confusion quickly, replying lightly, "But of course, my lord. You
must know that any gallant such as yourself is much discussed among
the ladies."

"Perhaps," he said skeptically. "But I would
not have thought my judgement of horseflesh one of the topics to
interest them."

"Oh, anything to do with you is, I assure
you. Shall we ride on?" she asked hurriedly, anxious for a chance
to gather her scattered wits before she betrayed herself
further.

"Certainly," responded the Earl, obediently
turning his horse.

As they cantered along the bridle-path,
Azalea felt her confusion give way once again to the exultant
pleasure of riding. She had missed it so! Though neither spoke for
several minutes, their spirits seemed somehow in tune. Azalea found
it unexpectedly pleasant to share this favourite pastime with
another enthusiast, even under such awkward circumstances.

As they drew near to the Park gates once
again, Azalea finally broke their companionable silence. "I don't
suppose you would care to race, my lord?" she asked hopefully. For
the moment, her intention of pricking his memory had been forgotten
in the exhilaration of riding.

"I would dearly love to," he replied, "but
it would certainly be frowned on if we were seen, and I have no
desire to be barred from riding in Hyde Park. A pity."

He was smiling down at Azalea as he spoke,
and she felt her heart beating faster than the exercise could
account for.

"A pity indeed," she said wistfully,
slanting a glance up at him. "I remember how I used to race across
the fields back home with none to see or criticize. Here, I feel I
am constantly being observed —and judged." She recalled with a rush
of homesickness the lovely flowered fields and woodlands of
Virginia and the solitary rides she used to enjoy there.

"Observed, perhaps," agreed Lord Glaedon
with an appreciative glance at her face and figure. "But I cannot
imagine anyone criticizing your riding. You are quite an
accomplished horsewoman. In fact..." He glanced about them. "Is
that groom of yours to be trusted?"

"What do you mean, my lord?" asked Azalea
curiously.

"This area of the Park
appears to be deserted, except for ourselves. Perhaps we might
manage a very
brief
gallop, if you are game."

He sent her a mischievous look, reminding
her forcefully of the Chris she had known in Williamsburg. Her
heart seemed to stop for a moment.

She grinned back at him. "Of course I am
game." With that, she flicked the reins and sent Ginny off at a
thundering pace.

After a startled instant, Lord Glaedon
followed, catching up fairly easily. "I did not mean this to be a
race, you know," he called out.

But Azalea scarcely heard him. When her mare
lurched into a gallop, she had felt something slightly amiss, and
now the feeling intensified. Her saddle was slipping!

Alarmed, she pulled back on the reins,
realizing only then that Ginny had managed to take the bit between
her teeth. Ears back, the mare was fully into the spirit of the
race, apparently unaware of her mistress's difficulty.

Locked into the sidesaddle as she was,
Azalea realized that she could be badly hurt if the cinch gave way
completely. Transferring the reins to one hand, she desperately
tried to extricate her knee from around the horn so that she could
leap off if necessary. Before she could manage it, however, the
saddle made a sickening slip sideways.

"I've got you!" Lord Glaedon, leaning over
as he drove his own horse up against hers, grabbed her around the
waist.

Ginny responded by shying violently, then
half rearing. Lord Glaedon was on the ground by now, however, and
pulled Azalea away from her.

"Th-thank you!" she stammered. "I have no
idea what got into her!"

The mare was becoming calmer now, though she
still skittered away from Sultan when he tossed his head in her
direction.

"You said you obtained her only yesterday,"
Lord Glaedon reminded her. "I suspect she is not as thoroughly
broken to riding as you were led to believe." His arms remained
around her as he spoke, giving Azalea a warm sense of security that
she ached to prolong. But already the groom was upon them, and at
his first words, Lord Glaedon released her.

"Good God, Miss! What happened? I told you
that mare was too spirited for a lady."

Azalea tried to subdue the trembling that
started the moment she was out of Lord Glaedon's grasp. "Nonsense,
Tom," she said briskly, to hide the emotions assaulting her. "She
merely needs a bit of work. I'd have been fine had the saddle not
slipped."

"Slipped? Why, I cinched it myself!"
Effortlessly, the groom captured the mare and examined the saddle,
which had slid around to her side. "Why, look here," he said after
a moment. "This part ain't even leather. It's some sort of cloth,
and it's stretched out. Pretty shoddy way to make a saddle, if you
ask me."

Shaken though she was, Azalea felt a nasty
suspicion leap into her mind. "The saddle came with the mare, did
it not?" She still did not name her uncle. If Lord Kayce had an
unsavoury reputation, as Jonathan had implied, she did not want
Lord Glaedon to learn of the connection just yet.

Tom was nodding. "Aye. Looks fancy enough,
too." He fingered the girth. "I think I can tighten this up enough
to get you home, miss, but I'll replace the cinch before you ride
out again."

"I should say the entire saddle should be
disposed of," said Lord Glaedon firmly. "And I don't recommend you
attempt another gallop on that mare for quite some time, Miss
Clayton. You should probably hold her to a trot, until you know her
temperament better."

Reluctantly, Azalea agreed. "It is just as
well that our gallop was cut short, I suppose, as I will probably
be sore enough tomorrow as it is," she added, with an attempt at
lightness.

"My dear Miss Clayton! I had quite forgotten
that this was your first ride in some time. I am doubly at fault
for suggesting that damned gallop." Lord Glaedon's eyes were
concerned again and Azalea felt warmth flow through her.

"Pray do not blame yourself, my lord. I was
enjoying myself immensely and had no wish to stop."

"Still, if you wish to minimize your
discomfort, I recommend you walk for a bit before returning home.
Trust me, I speak from experience," he concluded wryly.

She smiled. "Very well. It will take Tom a
few minutes to see to that strap, anyway."

Christian felt a tremor go through him in
response to that smile. Doubtless it was simply reaction to the
excitement they had been through, he chided himself. Casting about
for a safe topic, he recalled that his father had known Miss
Clayton's grandfather.

"I was surprised to learn of the connection
between our families," he began as they strolled down the path.

His companion coughed delicately. If he
didn't know better, he might have thought she was disguising a
chuckle. "My—my grandfather spoke of your father often. I believe
they served together in India in their youth," she said.

"So you did not share my surprise. I rather
received that impression at the time." Lovely, thick-fringed green
eyes watched him expectantly, giving Christian the odd feeling that
he was somehow disappointing her.

"You might have told me earlier, you know,"
he said, more severely than he had intended. What did she want from
him?

At his words, she frowned, and he discovered
that even her frown was charming.

"And how was I to know that you were
ignorant of their friendship? For all I knew, you might have been
perfectly aware of who I was but had decided not to recognize the
connection."

Christian was taken aback. "What reason
could I possibly have for snubbing the granddaughter of my father's
closest friend?"

"That is best known to yourself, my lord,"
she returned primly.

"Come, Miss Clayton, let us cry friends."
Suddenly, it seemed imperative that she forgive him. "Now that you
know it was mere ignorance on my part, surely you cannot hold my
earlier behaviour against me."

Azalea looked thoughtful. "I think I can,"
she said after a moment. "You were rude to me on the mere grounds
of my nationality, which is not something you could reasonably
expect me to be responsible for, even if it were cause for shame.
Which it is not!" She flashed a speaking glance up at him.

Increasingly bewitched by her, Christian
fought valiantly against a smile. He nodded. "You are right, of
course, and I humbly beg your pardon."

She regarded him steadily, and he felt his
pulse accelerate. He would not look away, however, and after a
brief silence she nodded in turn.

"Very well," she said. "If you will consent
to learn a little about America before you condemn us out of hand,
I think we could even become friends." Her look challenged him
now.

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Clayton, as
I think you know," said Christian half-seriously. "Very well, I
agree to learn more about America in general and Virginia in
particular, if you will be my tutor." He was finding Miss Clayton
more delightful with every word that passed her lips, though her
beauty was already alluring enough. She seemed both intelligent and
naive —a combination he found totally enchanting and quite
irresistible.

Azalea regarded him suspiciously. Was he
flirting with her? She could not account for the sudden change in
his attitude, unless it were merely the discovery that she was
Gregory Simpson's granddaughter.

Such old obligations, she thought, must have
more hold on Lord Glaedon than she would have imagined. It was
probably all tied up in that unfathomable male code of honour.

"Well, Miss Clayton? Have we a bargain?" he
prompted when she did not immediately speak.

"Certainly, my lord," she replied
decisively. "How can I refuse, when it was I who demanded your
further education? What would you like to know?"

"Everything, of course," he said laughingly.
"But you can begin by telling me more about the excellent
horseflesh you claim to have seen there."

This was a topic with which Azalea was
completely at home. She proceeded to describe the breeding programs
of some of the landowners of her acquaintance, as well as those of
the more famous Virginia horse farms.

As she pursued the topic, she realized that
she was repeating almost word for word much of what she had told
this same man six years ago. Noticing his occasional slight frowns,
she could not help but wonder whether he remembered at least parts
of that prior conversation. Then another possibility occurred to
her.

"I fear this has become quite a lecture, my
lord. I do tend to run on when discussing a subject that interests
me, and I have no wish to bore you."

"Bore me? With talk of horses? Impossible!
If I seemed distracted, it was merely that I was considering ways
of implementing these American innovations in my own stables. Pray
continue," he said with every appearance of sincerity.