Miss Peterson & The Colonel (2 page)

'My dear girl, see who is here. You will not believe what I have to tell you.'

Lydia flushed. Something about Colonel Wescott was horribly familiar.

'Come, let me introduce you to my brother.' Edward's tone was bland, but his eyes were brimming with amusement. 'I rather think you two have already met.'

Reluctantly, she turned to the formidable gentleman. Keeping her eyes lowered, she curtsied, glancing through her lashes as she did so. He bowed but he was quite definitely glowering at her. Despite her trepidation, she noticed his eyes were an unusual shade, the blue so dark as to be almost black.

'I'm delighted to meet you again, Miss Peterson. I would have been even more delighted if you had remained in your carriage as instructed and not sent me on a fool's errand yesterday.'

'You, sir, were most unpleasant. I had no idea who you were, and felt it expedient to ride at once to the home of my sister.' She gave him glare for glare. 'The fact that I, a mere female, was able to get myself and my maid out safely indicates that you deliberately left us where we were in order to punish us for tipping the carriage over.'

For a moment the matter hung in the balance, then the colonel bowed and she thought she saw a flicker of admiration in his eyes. Thinking it best to change the subject, she forced her lips into a smile and said the first thing that came into her head.

'I believe you to be the first hero of the Peninsula I have met. It must be a great relief to you that Bonaparte is safely captured.'

He raised an eyebrow as if surprised. 'Exactly so; it is to be hoped that he remains on Elba. The country has been at war for too many years.'

There was an awkward pause. Why didn't Edward step in with some commonplace remark? Then she realized her brother-in-law had wandered to the far end of the room, leaving her alone to smooth things over with this formidable soldier.

'Are you on leave for long, sir?'

'I have three months, unless I'm called back. I intend to take the time to find an estate. However, my first task is to replace the horse I lost at the last battle.'

That was something she could help him with. She'd supplied several horses to military gentleman in the past. 'I might have exactly what you're looking for, Colonel Wescott. I can send…'

His lips thinned. His annoyance was barely contained and his expression frosty. 'I thank you for your offer, Miss Peterson, but I'm sure I shall manage to acquire what I want without a young lady's assistance.'

She swallowed back her angry retort. What a disagreeable man! He must know she was an expert in the matter of horseflesh; after all had she not demonstrated this yesterday? The splendid matching chestnuts that pulled her carriage were from her own stud and the excellent bays Edward owned had been selected by her.

Her first opinion of this gentleman had been correct. He was objectionable. Ignoring the colonel, she called out to her brother-in-law. 'Edward, if you will excuse me, I must go upstairs. I have promised to spend time with Ellen and my nephews this morning.'

His expression of relief was quite comical. He must have believed he was about to become embroiled in a disagreement between herself and his unpleasant brother. It was certainly an unfortunate coincidence that she and the colonel had met in such a way, but it changed nothing. He was arrogant, autocratic and not half as nice as Edward. She was sorely tempted to find an excuse to return immediately to Bracken Hall.

*

The evening was much as she had expected. Lydia was so used to speaking her mind on politics or other matters, she found it impossible to remain silent. Frequently she interjected in the gentlemen's discussion and her shin was sore from the kicks she received each time from Ellen.

By the time they rose to leave the gentlemen to their port Lydia was aware she and Simon Westcott were of a similar mind. They held each other in cordial dislike. He, no doubt, thought her opinionated and unfeminine, but she
knew
him to be overbearing and arrogant.

So matters were equal on that score.

No sooner was the door closed behind them than her sister turned to her in distress. 'Lydia, what were you thinking of? Could you not see how much you were annoying Simon? We did so wish you to get on.'

Lydia embraced her. 'I apologize, my love. I know you and Edward intended us to make a match. It would never do, you know. We disliked each other on sight. I'm afraid you and Edward must forget your machinations. I'll do my best to be civil to him but shall avoid his company when I can. After all, I'm here to spend time with you and the boys not wait for an offer from Simon Westcott.'

Chapter Two

Lydia managed to remain apart from her new relative by spending her days with her nephews and her sister. She exercised her mare at dawn before anyone had risen, riding to the nearby park where they could both let off pent-up energy. However, she had no option but to dine with him each evening. She spent far longer than usual on her toilette, determined not to give him any reason to find fault with her.

Each night she did her best to remain silent when the gentlemen were discussing subjects considered unsuitable for ladies. But every night she found herself sharing her own views, provoked beyond reason, quite often by Edward. If she did not know him to be the kindest man alive she would have thought he was deliberately goading her to be at loggerheads with his brother.

Fortunately the colonel was as assiduous in his avoidance tactics as she. He spent the days viewing suitable geldings and eventually purchased one. He sang its praises at dinner. The animal was, according to him, a prince among horses. Brutus was five years old and obedient to bit and heel, with powerful hindquarters and shoulders – ideal for him to take back to France with him. She got up early the next morning in order to examine this paragon for herself.

Undoing the loose box, she attached a lead rope and led the enormous horse into the yard where she tethered him to a metal ring. 'Well, old fellow, let's have a look at you. You're certainly a handsome one and well up to your master's weight.'

The gelding lowered his massive head and breathed noisily in her face. She took this opportunity to push back his lips and examine his mouth. As she was so doing, the man she'd hoped to avoid strolled into the yard.

'Miss Peterson, you've come to admire my animal, I see. I believe my guineas to be well spent.'

'And I know that they were not. This horse is not what you were told.' She braced herself to receive a pithy response. She was sure he had not yet forgiven her. However, she
knew
that the colonel had been taken in.

He drew himself to his full height, his mouth thinned and two spots of colour appeared like warning flags on his cheeks. 'Miss Peterson, I'm obliged to you for offering your opinion on my recent purchase. I pride myself on being an expert in this field, but, of course, I bow to
your
superior knowledge.'

His sarcasm was uncalled for. She
had
been about to apologize, to make light of her comment that the huge bay gelding was nearer fifteen years of age than five. However, his attitude goaded her into further comment.

'Colonel Westcott, have you ever heard the expression
long in the tooth
? This gelding has had his teeth filed. If you look closely at his gums you will observe the discrepancy. A horse, of the age you
think
this one is, would not have so much tooth showing.'

His hands clenched. He no doubt wished to berate her for having the temerity to offer a comment in an area that was strictly a gentleman's preserve. Her palm was resting gently on the neck of the animal and he detected her unease. Immediately his ears flattened. Before she could warn him, the aforementioned teeth buried themselves in Westcott's arm.

The resulting pandemonium allowed her to escape. Her ears were burning from his immoderate language. No doubt the gelding would be returned as unsound, but that would be unfair. The bay was a little past his prime but was obviously an intelligent animal and ideal for a soldier.

Without stopping to consider the possible consequences she spun, her blue-velvet riding habit swirling around her booted feet. He needed to be persuaded to keep the bay. Fortunately the swearing had ceased and the gentleman in question had hold of his horse. To her astonishment, he was rubbing the animal's nose with affection. Her lips curved; there was no need for further interference on her part.

Perhaps this man was not such an arrogant, objectionable creature as she had at first surmised if he could forgive his mount for savaging him.

*

Simon smiled ruefully as he rubbed his injured shoulder. 'Well, Brutus, I got my comeuppance from you, did I not?'

The horse lipped his hand in apology.

'I know. I must learn to curb my temper. But that young woman brings out the worst in me. She needs to learn her place and remain silent on subjects that do not concern her.'

If he was honest, it still rankled that
she
had thought to use the harness and one of the horses to pull her maid from the inside of the carriage. His breath hissed between his teeth. Good God! The wretched girl was correct. How could he have been so gullible? He'd taken a cursory glance at the bay's mouth and been fooled. He could legitimately return his purchase and demand a refund of his guineas.

No, the gelding might not be the youngster he'd imagined, but he was more than adequate for his needs and he liked the way the animal had protected the girl.

A slight movement in the archway attracted his attention. He glanced up to see her watching him. He hid his smile; he might dislike the chit intensely but he could not fault her courage. Few man would dare to return when he was in high dudgeon.

'Jenkins, fetch the tack. I shall take Brutus to the park for a gallop.'

As he waited for his groom, he considered the young woman who'd almost made him lose his temper. She was nothing like Edward's wife; Lady Grayson and Miss Peterson were as different as chalk is to cheese.

Ellen was dainty, with blue eyes and golden hair, and the sweetest nature one could wish for. Her younger sister was a veritable termagant. She did have remarkable green eyes and abundant nut brown tresses, but that was
all
there was to recommend her.

The girl was overly tall and her features nondescript; one wouldn't exactly call her bracket-faced, but she was no beauty, that was for sure. Small wonder the interfering baggage had not taken when she had come out several years ago.

Why should a man give up his freedom for a woman with a managing nature and a tongue like a whiplash? Possibly if she had been a substantial heiress some foolhardy gentleman might have offered for her.
He
had no wish to become caught in parson's mousetrap, he preferred to remain free of entanglements.

A wife had no place in a serving soldier's life. His accumulated wealth and impeccable pedigree meant he was much sought-after by the matchmaking matrons he encountered on the Continent. Being a soldier gave him the excuse of
duty to his Country
when he wished to remove himself from possible entrapment.

He swung into the saddle and clattered out of the yard, heading for Hyde Park. So early in the day there would be few people taking the air. Society frowned upon those who rode above a collected canter but if there was no one around he could please himself. Brutus pecked, almost losing purchase on the icy cobbles.

*

Lydia waited until the colonel had left the yard before hurrying back. She always went out at this time and had no idea
he
would be there this morning with the same intention. She was tempted to forget, to return to her chamber and not risk a second confrontation. However, that would not be fair to Pegasus; her mare was in need of the exercise. Like her, the animal disliked being cooped up and preferred the freedom of the countryside to life in Town.

How could
anyone
prefer the noise, the smell and restriction of the city? Even when Ellen and her family retreated to their country estate in Hertfordshire, her sister filled the house with guests. Such a frenetic life would not suit her. The tranquillity of her estate in Essex, where she was surrounded by horses, could dress in breeches and boots and ride astride, was heaven to her. Making inane small talk to overperfumed strangers was a pastime she abhorred.

Billy grinned at her over the loose box. 'Take care this morning, miss. Them cobbles will be a mite slippery until the sun's up.' He'd obviously been keeping out of harm's way whilst her altercation with the colonel had been taking place. He gave her a leg up.

'Thank you, Billy. I shall come to no harm. Peg's as surefooted as a mountain goat. I'll take it slowly through the streets and not allow her to trot until we're on the grass.'

She guided the mare expertly through the archway that led to the street. Her sister would be horrified if she knew there was no groom accompanying her. But as Ellen never rose before noon, and avoided the stable yard at all times, she was unlikely to hear about her breach of etiquette.

The railings outside the house were coated in frost and the trees similarly adorned. How beautiful everything looked in the early-morning sunlight. The pavements were empty apart from servants on errands. This area of London was mercifully free from street traders and hawkers, and none of the residents of
these
grand houses would dream of being seen abroad so early.

Pegasus knew her way to the park; they took the same route every morning they were in Town. Lydia held her reins loosely, giving her mount the freedom to pick her own path. They entered without having met another rider. She paused on the grass, gazing in delight at the trees. Everything appeared as if covered in diamonds. What a beautiful morning; too good to be cooped up in London.

Even in the park the air was tainted, the smell of coal smoke never far away. Imagine what the East End must be like, where poor folk teemed in dwellings she would not house an animal in. She stared across the empty landscape. How could there be anything wrong in this enchanted world?

Her horse shifted beneath her, shaking her head impatiently, eager to be off. 'Yes, Peg, I know. You want to stretch your legs. However, sweetheart, we shall take it steady until I know how hard the ground is.'

She touched the mare's flank with her heel, settled into the saddle, and enjoyed the smooth canter. She knew even the lightest touch would push her mount into a headlong gallop.              

There was no sign of the colonel ahead. He must have ridden in the other direction. She cantered up the avenue of trees into the open land. She could not resist the temptation; the going was good, ideal for her purpose. She shortened the reins and gave her mare a signal.

Tears whipped from her eyes; the speed was exhilarating and the way in front clear for another mile. Pegasus lived up to her name, flying across the ground, head outstretched, ears forward, enjoying the race as much as she.

Lydia was aware the lake was just ahead. Time to slow down, her five minutes of freedom were over. She settled in the saddle, pulling gently on the reins to remind Peg to reduce her speed, when, from nowhere, a horse thundered alongside and an arm reached out and snatched her from the saddle.

Good grief! She was being abducted. Ellen had warned her many times not to ride alone, that there were dangerous men lurking in the isolated areas of the park. She had only one chance to save herself, if she struggled she might fall to her death. But if she could dislodge the man who was holding her across his pommel it would be
he
who suffered not
her
.

Thanking God for the hours she'd spent perfecting her riding skills, she buried her hands in the wiry black mane of her abductor's horse. With the agility of a circus performer she pressed down, whilst swinging her weight sideways. Her hips thumped into the villain, unbalancing him. She pushed backwards and the arm around her waist was gone; she was free.

Her heart was thundering as loudly as the hooves on the hard ground. Could she twist herself into the saddle without falling? This action would have been impossible were she not wearing a habit with a divided skirt. Flinging herself backwards, releasing her grip on the mane, she managed to bring her left leg across the horse's withers. Gripping hard with her knees, she regained her balance and was upright in the saddle.

'Steady boy, steady.' The horse responded to her soothing voice and the mad gallop became a smooth extended canter. She was riding without reins or stirrups, but was confident the animal was responding to her voice and the pressure of her legs.

'Good lad, good boy, the race is over. It's time to walk.' She patted the animal's lathered neck and grabbed the flapping reins. She pulled firmly and her mount responded. A sudden rhythmic pounding alongside made the horse shy. This time she was not so fortunate and tumbled from the saddle.

Her world upended and the breath was knocked from her lungs. She lay still, waiting for her head to stop spinning. Had she broken any limbs? Would her abductor recover first and reach her before she could escape?

She must make an effort.

She opened her eyes to discover she was lying between eight equine legs, four grey and four brown. Using her own mount to brace herself she slowly regained her feet. She collapsed against the neck of the bay, shock making her incapable of thought. Her composure returned and she began to take stock. Surely this horse was known to her? It was Brutus, Colonel Westcott's new mount. Sick with dread, she stumbled forward to peer between the two animals. Her worst fears were realized; the colonel was spread-eagled on the ground several hundred yards away.