Kate Noble (3 page)

“I don’t know which of you is the more stubborn,” Will said, chuckling.

“He is!” Max barked, still pulling at Jupiter’s reins. “He refuses to believe there is nothing so foolhardy as love!”

GIVEN
Mrs. Bibb’s informative parting words, rest was difficult to achieve for both Gail and Evangeline, but for entirely different reasons. Eventually, Gail was able to close her eyes and relax into the faded green counterpane, and when she and Evangeline emerged from their rooms at three, they were greeted by an enthusiastic Romilla, ready to tackle London society in earnest. She, and a bevy of footmen, had spent the last few hours productively. Romilla had sent notes to make appointments with modistes, milliners, jewelers, and old acquaintances. She, with Mrs. Bibb’s assistance, had begun interviewing the downstairs maids, to discern which would be most suitable to be trained as a ladies’ maid for Evangeline and Gail. She had also sent inquiries through Morrison to hire painters and handymen, to redo no less than five rooms that were not to her taste. When Romilla did something, she jumped in with both feet and did not look back.

So it was with her desire to throw a ball for Evangeline and Gail’s coming out. It would have to be a grand crush, surely, and with Sir Geoffrey’s political contacts, it could be the smash of the Season. She had already begun making lists of prospective dates and whom to invite and sketching cunning little invitation designs. The idea of having a ball thrown in her honor, to have to be the center of attention (along with her sister), made Gail rather queasy. Her own anxieties about being looked at all the time and having to be interesting and polite at a moment’s notice overtook any joy she would have in the project. But as nervous as the ball made Gail, it made Evangeline positively giddy. She had, of course, been reticent to begin with, but as Romilla spoke at length about the flowers and the courses, and oh, the gowns! Evangeline’s interest could not help but grow, and soon she found herself swept up in the excitement of it all. When Gail excused herself from the conversation, Evangeline was debating the merits of decorating the ballroom with very fashionable orange trees, while Romilla was extolling the virtues of lemon.

Whenever Gail found herself in a confused state of mind, she went to seek out the one person who in the past had been a comfort. Her father. Quietly crossing the main foyer, Gail knocked on the library door, and was bidden a gruff “Enter.”

She poked her head in, again hit with a wave of cigar-scented air, mixed with a springtime breeze, courtesy of an open window. The smell brought an easy smile to Gail’s face.

Sir Geoffrey stood at the window, cigar stub between his teeth. He turned to see his youngest child, and smiled.

“Ah my Gaily girl! Glad it’s you! Shut the door, shut the door. If Romilla caught me with this”—he wagged the cigar—“she’d string me up by my cravat.”

Gail narrowed her gaze as she approached her father. “Is that woman trying to make you stop?”

“Now Gail, don’t start. She’s being a wife, worrying about her husband and the like.”

Gail was immediately contrite. “I know Papa, it’s just…”

“What is it, my little girl? Whatever’s bothering you, you can tell your old father.”

“Well…I mean, she keeps calling me Abigail. No one calls me Abigail, why should she?”

“Now, now, that’s simply her way. But I think it would take a lot more than that to get you to this state, so you’d best tell me so I can go about making it right.”

“It’s just that…” Gail picked at the sleeves of her gown. “Romilla sees Evie as a perfect young lady, and Evie is so excited about being in town and throwing parties. And, well, look at me. Everything I am needs improvement.”

Sir Geoffrey wore a look of shock. “No! Never say so!” he said, gathering his girl into a bear hug. “There’s nothing the matter with you, dear, and well served will be those who realize it. Romilla just wants us to have the best of everything. And I will admit, I have some regret that I dragged you girls about the Continent. Our travels may not have been the best home I could have given you. If we’d stayed in one place, you could have made more friends, maybe had a beau or two. Evie might’ve been married off by now!”

“I loved our life!” Gail protested, pulling out of her father’s embrace.

“As did I! A new place every year! What did the French call it?”

“Une annee de nouvelle vie,”
Gail spoke with easy fluency.

“A year of new life, exactly. But, my Gaily girl, what I would have given to have taught you how to swim in the lake at our house in Surrey. And what would you have given to have had a full stable of horses—ones you raised from colts? Eh?”

Gail had to smile at that thought. What joy a stable full of horses would have brought when she was a headstrong ten-year-old intent on jumping every fence she could find!

Sir Geoffrey placed the stub of his cigar on the windowsill.

“Now buck up, my girl! London’s ever so much fun! And this year, you get to enjoy it all.”

At this, Gail went visibly green. “I’m not certain I’m as happy to attend the Season as Romilla and Evangeline are. I just wish to survive it.”

But Sir Geoffrey simply waved this off. “Nonsense, just nerves, my dear. Now, I have a prospect to cheer you up.”

Gail’s face lit with curiosity. “What is it?”

Her father chuckled. “Patience, Gail, patience. You never could wait for your surprises. Be on the front steps tomorrow morning at seven o’clock.”

“Seven o’clock? That’s practically dawn! No one will be awake then.”
Except Romilla
, Gail thought, but she fervently hoped her surprise would exclude her stepmother.

“Gaily girl, seven o’clock is the perfect time for some fun.”

So, the next morning at exactly seven o’clock, Gail did exactly as she was told, and found herself on the front steps of Number Seven. She had been correct in her assessment that no other house would be awake at such an hour, as Berkeley Square was as quiet as a church on Saturday, and she did not notice any twitching of curtains from next door. Even her father did not await her on the steps. But Gail was most certainly not alone.

In front of the house was the most beautiful chestnut mare Gail had ever laid eyes on. She was roughly fifteen hands high, with white stockinged feet and a glossy brown coat that shone like sunbeams in the bright morning light.

A groom held her by the reins, and when Gail approached, he bowed and handed her a note in her father’s familiar hand.

“
SHE’S
really all mine?” Gail asked in a whisper, venturing a hand to stroke QueenBee’s nose. She had never owned a horse before; their mounts were always let and sadly returned.

“Why, yes, miss,” replied the befuddled groom. “Who else’s could she be?” QueenBee nuzzled her hand, causing Gail to giggle through her awestruck adoration. So intent was she on QueenBee’s shiny coat and steady gaze, she did not hear the groom’s next question until he asked it a second time.

“Pardon me, miss, but will ye be wantin’ to ride this mornin’?”

“What? Oh yes! I must change. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be down in a trice!”

Gail ran up the steps into Number Seven, forgetting to even shut the door behind her. But it was of no consequence, as she was back down again faster than a jackrabbit, now wearing a deep green velvet riding habit and matching leather gloves. She carried an old, wide-brimmed leather hat in one hand, her riding crop in the other. Then, with childlike glee and perfect horsemanship, Gail was seated into QueenBee’s ready saddle.

The groom could only gape. Gail grinned in delight, for never had a horse and rider taken so quickly to each other. They were five-minute friends, and already they moved and looked as one.

“Are you riding with me?” Gail asked the groom, who quickly shut his slackened jaw, and reached for his own mount nearby.

“
ALL
right, Jupiter, yesterday was unpleasant, but today we have the whole park to ourselves.”

Max addressed his sulking horse as they entered the gates to the park, biting off a yawn. Here he was, up at an ungodly hour of the morning, after Holt dragged him to the Norrichs’ card party last night, all because of his horse. His silly, lovesick horse.

Max had spoken to Mr. Wyatt, the stable master, and was told that, although Jupiter was in the best of health, he was uncommonly mournful. Wyatt thought Jupiter might pick up a bit if he were given free reign to run without large crowds about. Eager to get Jupiter out of his current disposition, Max found himself at the park hours before anyone else would think to be there.

It was a lovely morning—cool and crisp, the sharp sun melting the dew off the grass. It was a day to be outdoors, and Max almost felt sorry for those that weren’t. Almost, for his head still ached a bit from partaking of the Norrichs’ fine selection from their personal cellar.

Max shook the cobwebs from his brain, kicked his heels into Jupiter’s flanks, and set forward at a brisk trot. Happily, Jupiter was improved this morning, and he took to the winding paths of Hyde Park with great aplomb.

“There. You see, Jupiter? Nothing in this world a good solitary ride can’t make right.”

Max was rather pleased with himself. Smiling, he and Jupiter reached an open field near a lake, and both horse and rider were more than ready for a full-out gallop. With another judicious kick, they set out across the expanse of green lawn, breathing in the beauty of the morning and the exhilaration of the ride. They were a magnificent pair, Max tall and strong, his body’s rhythm flowing from horse to rider. Jupiter’s midnight black hair matched that of his master, both shining in the sun from their exertions. After a good number of minutes, Max brought Jupiter to a trot again. Both horse and rider happier for their exercise, Max turned his mount to start across the lawn and toward the winding paths that led to the tall wrought iron gates of the park. He checked his pocket watch. It was a quarter to eight.

EVERYTHING
was perfect. A beautiful morning, an empty park, and a wonderful horse that was all her own. As Gail wound through the wooded paths, QueenBee responded perfectly to her slightest touch. The groom was keeping a respectful distance, about twenty feet behind, giving Gail enough room to enjoy a sense of solitude. Jimmy’s mount was older, slower, and so they walked at a meandering pace for several minutes before both Gail and QueenBee were itching for a good run.

“Jimmy, is there a field, or an open space nearby where we may gallop?”

“Well, er, yes, miss, right up here through these trees,” the groom pointed. “But,” he stuttered, “don’t you want to wait a bit before gallopin’? Your horse being a new mount an’ all?”

But Gail had already taken off in the direction Jimmy had indicated, leaving the befuddled groom and his lackadaisical mount in her dust.

She came up to the field, a great expanse of green about a mile square, sloping into a valley and edged by great maple trees on three sides, a lake on the other. Gail raised her hand to the brim of her weathered hat, shading her eyes. She beamed, taking in the view of the sun dappling on the water, and addressed her horse.

“Isn’t it magnificent? Are you ready for a run?”

But QueenBee was not ready for a gallop. She had suddenly become very nervous, very skittish. For QueenBee had spotted something Gail had not. Across the field was a horse and rider, bearing down with all possible speed, and headed directly for them.

JUPITER
whinnied, his upper lip curled back, and began to dance.

“What is it, now?” Max dropped his watch, trying to control his horse, but found himself barely able to keep his seat.

“Jupiter, calm down! Steady, boy! Steady…whoa!”

Jupiter took off at full gallop across the field. All Max could do was hold on for dear life. He tried to see what in God’s name had spooked his horse, but the sun’s reflection off the nearby lake blurred his vision. Suddenly, he saw her.

The young lady and her horse had just emerged from the clump of trees that shaded one of the park’s many idyllic wooded paths. Her horse had seen Jupiter charging full speed ahead, but the lady had not. The lake to one side held her attention. Max pulled and pulled on Jupiter’s reins, and Max thought he heard a snap. But Jupiter would not be deterred from his course, in fact, running all the faster. So Max did the only thing he could. He yelled.