The Fugitive Heiress (6 page)

“Yes, I believe I shall,” she replied with a smile. He seems to mind me well enough. Where is Bert?”

He emerged at that moment from the stable leading a short-legged bay lent him by one of the grooms. Tiffany’s man helped her to mount and they were soon trotting toward the gates of Hyde Park. It was a glorious morning, so Catheryn was not surprised to see a number of persons riding sedately up and down the rows, nor to see the few elegant carriages that stopped now and again to enable their occupants to converse with one another or with the horsemen; however, having had several occasions in the city streets to realize that Chieftain might prove difficult should he take it into his head to defy the rein, she eyed the traffic doubtfully. Tiffany merely agreed that, although it was not the fashionable hour to be seen in the Park, the weather very likely accounted for the fairly heavy turn-out

“Gracious!” she exclaimed suddenly. “There’s Maggie, and she’s seen us!” She directed Catheryn’s attention to a vivacious young blonde waving from a nearby carriage, explaining with some asperity that Lady Margaret Varling, daughter of the Earl of Stanthorpe, was a dear friend but a chatterbox as well. Returning the wave with a charming smile, she added, “She will probably tell Richard she has seen us.”

“Why would it matter if she did?” inquired Catheryn.

Tiffany evaded the question. “Maggie will probably be the next Countess of Dambroke,” she stated. “Richard has just spent the best part of a fortnight jauntering back and forth between London and her home in Sussex.” Catheryn’s curiosity was piqued. It would be interesting to see what sort of female appealed to the earl’s taste.

“Tiffany, by all that’s wonderful!” Maggie exclaimed. “I declare, I never expected to see you this morning. Oh, and this,” indicating the plump, gray-haired lady beside her, “is my Aunt Augusta, Lady Trevaris.”

Tiffany made Catheryn known to the two ladies, then added, “I am surprised to see you out so early, Maggie. I didn’t even know you had returned to town.”

Lady Margaret giggled behind a daintily gloved hand. “Lud, Tiff, I shouldn’t have left my bedchamber yet, were it not for Aunt dragging me out. For air, she said.” The older woman smiled, rather grimly, Catheryn thought, steadying Chieftain. “She has set us all by the ears,” Maggie added.

“Really?”

“Indeed, Tiff. You must know we have been down at Stanthorpe this past fortnight. Aunt stayed with us to help look after Tony—my brother, Miss Westering—and she came to town to relax and do the shops.”

Tiffany interrupted before Maggie could continue, showing more animation than Catheryn had yet seen. “Is Captain Varling home then?”

Maggie looked surprised. “Of course he is! Didn’t Dambroke tell you? Or Lord Thomas? Mama and Papa swore them to secrecy, of course, on account of not wanting lots of visitors before he was recuperated, but I should have expected Dambroke to mention it to you and her ladyship,” she added naively.

“Well, he certainly should have mentioned it,” Tiffany stated flatly. “Of all the ramshackle things!”

“Nonsense, Tiffany.” Catheryn steadied Chieftain again and smiled at both girls. “Neither of you would expect his lordship to break his word.”

“And what she could have done about it if he had,” Lady Trevaris interposed with more candor than tact, “I should like to know.”

Since the comment was clearly rhetorical, Catheryn ignored Tiffany’s indignant and unladylike glare. “Has your brother been ill, Lady Margaret?”

“He was wounded!” Maggie answered with dramatic fervor. “He nearly lost his leg entirely!”

“Pack of butchers,” Lady Trevaris stated. “Rather cut it off than tend it properly.” Noting Catheryn’s astonishment, she deigned to elucidate. “Boy was wounded at Cuidad Rodrigo.” Catheryn opened her mouth to protest, but Lady Trevaris waved her impatiently to silence. “Yes, yes, I know that was January. Poor boy’s been bounced from hospital to hospital for three months. Had to get to Brussels before he found a doctor who didn’t want to cut the leg off. Weak as a kitten when he finally came home. Where he belonged,” she added tartly.

Maggie smiled fondly at her aunt but her eyes twinkled when she spoke to the others. “Aunt Augusta is certain her ministrations are the sole reason for Tony’s rapid recuperation. She knows perfectly well that, because of his major’s knowing the doctor personally, Tony was got quite quickly to Brussels. All the same, it must have been horrid for him to think he might lose his leg.”

“That’s as may be.” Lady Trevaris clearly intended to have the last word. “But Anthony made up his mind not to lose the leg and, easy-mannered though he may be, he generally gets what he sets his mind to. Miss Westering, that horse of yours fidgets!”

The others laughed, but Catheryn admitted that Chieftain was not best pleased to stand still while other horses trotted past him. She and Tiffany made their adieux, promising to call at Stanthorpe House quite soon. When they had left the Varling carriage behind, Tiffany, who had been looking about as though in search of a particular face, suggested that Catheryn take Bert and find a spot where she could exercise Chieftain properly.

“For he is fidgeting dreadfully, Catheryn, and I intend just to walk Angel along the row, stopping now and again, you know, to speak to my particular friends. I’m afraid Chieftain won’t appreciate anything so tame as that.”

Aware as she was that she was being manipulated, Catheryn nevertheless agreed. She was uncertain how much longer she would be able to control her powerful mount and, with relief, turned him toward an invitingly empty stretch of greensward where she could let him have his head. As she neared the open space, she turned in her saddle and was unsurprised to observe that Tiffany had been joined by a fair-haired gentleman on horseback and that Tiffany’s groom had obligingly dropped some distance behind. Mentally shrugging her shoulders, she spoke to Chieftain.

“Now, my fine fellow, you shall have your run. Then, perhaps you will contrive to behave yourself. Stay with us, if you are able,” she called to Bert.

“Aye, miss,” was the gruff reply. Catheryn chuckled as she dug her heel into the horse’s flank. Chieftain needed no further urging but was off, ears pricked forward and tail like a banner, his long easy stride making him a joy to ride. Catheryn felt the thrill of a long-denied pleasure. Lady Caston disapproved of what she called neck-or-nothing riding for females. It never occurred to Catheryn that members of the Beau Monde might likewise disapprove. The half-mile of greensward was soon behind her, and she had no difficulty slowing Chieftain for the turn before she gave him his head again. Bert had already turned his slower mount and she waved gaily when she passed him. He managed a smile in return.

Drawing near to the end of the green, she was startled to recognize the large black stallion with the white blaze whose rider, also recognizable and scowling besides, seemed to be waiting for her. Tiffany was nowhere in sight.

“Good morning, Lord Dambroke!” she called as she pulled Chieftain up before him. She patted the horse, pleased that he now seemed willing to behave and not missing the small gleam of reluctant admiration in his lordship’s eye. Bert tactfully reined in some distance behind.

Dispensing with amenities, Dambroke snapped, “Are you such a madcap then, Miss Westering, that you must needs flout all the conventions?”

Catheryn blinked, taken aback more by his words than by his anger. “Not intentionally, my lord. Though I suppose,” she added as the thought occurred to her, “it was not quite the thing for me to gallop headlong through Hyde Park.” She sighed. “I did so enjoy it, too.”

“You’ll not get vouchers to Almack’s by enjoying yourself in that manner, however.”

“Almack’s!” She had thought it was a mere pipe dream that she might actually visit the famous and very exclusive assembly rooms in Pall Mall. She stared at him, pushing windblown hair from her face. “Your mother mentioned it, of course, but I didn’t think it possible. Does she truly intend me to fly so high?”

His expression relaxed. “She cannot wish for you to remain quietly at home on Wednesday evenings, you know.”

“Heavens, how exciting! I am indeed sorry if I have done anything to overset such plans.”

“Well, perhaps it is not so bad as that. My mother’s friend Emily Cowper, one of the august patronesses, is possibly amiable enough to overlook this escapade.” He frowned again. “You ride well, but Chieftain is not a suitable mount for you.”

Catheryn chuckled. “I wonder if it will put you off your stride, sir, if I admit that you are quite right.” She peeped up through innocently lowered lashes.

“Of course it will not! I know I am right. Chieftain could toss you off at any moment had he a mind to do so.”

Catheryn snapped her head up indignantly. “I daresay I should be less likely to put you into a rage if I were to agree with that ridiculous statement as well, my lord,” she said steadily, “but if you consider the matter, you must know that could he have done so, he would have put me off in the stableyard. And so Mr. Hobbs must have informed you. Chieftain might run away with me, but he will not throw me.”

Dambroke turned Blaze toward the gate, smiling at last. “A point to you, Miss Westering, though I hope we shall not haggle over details. The fact remains that you should not have ridden him.”

“Yes, sir, I expect that is the crux of the matter,” Catheryn answered sweetly, as she guided Chieftain in beside the stallion. “The fact is that you are in a miff, not because you worried about my safety, but because I rode your horse. I should not have done so, however, without your permission.”

The contrite expression accompanying the final statement was belied by the twinkle in her eye, but if she expected a rise to her lure, she soon found she had mistaken her opponent. “I suppose I am, at that,” he answered after reflecting for a moment. “However, I do know who is to blame for this. I have already sent my sister home with a flea in her ear and a promise that she will hear more when we return.”

Having intended to draw his anger in order to shield Tiffany, Catheryn realized that she had underestimated his acuity. She watched with approval as he checked the stallion’s aversion to an urchin who darted suddenly from the flagway. Chieftain had settled down admirably after his brief run, but Blaze seemed to become increasingly nervous as they encountered heavier traffic.

“You handle him well, my lord.” He grinned and Catheryn was surprised by her reaction to it. She had not noticed before, but the blasted man was capable of charm. Oddly flustered, she added with more bluntness than she had intended, “He does not belong in the city, however!”

He sent her a quizzical look. “Getting your own back, Cousin? No, no!” he laughed when she tossed her head, a stormy glint in her eye. “I cry pardon. You are right. I had hoped to civilize him, but he is definitely a country horse. I intend to send him down to the Park. I shall have a suitable mount brought up to town for your use at the same time. You are not to ride Chieftain again.”

“No, sir, I should not have taken him at all.” She was contrite again, but genuinely so this time.

“I daresay Tiffany assured you that I should not mind,” he answered grimly.

“Please, my lord, it was my fault. My grandfather would have flogged me had I dared to ride a new horse without his permission, and this is much the same thing.”

“Nonsense!” he retorted. “My sister knows perfectly well that I allow no one to ride Blaze or Chieftain. She merely wanted an excuse to get you out of the way while she kept her assignation with that damned Lawrence fellow!”

So that was Lawrence. “Well, of course she did. Your mother practically forced me upon her in the first place.”

“My compliments to my mother,” he muttered.

“Oh, don’t be so muttonheaded!” Catheryn protested, exasperated. “It seems to me, my lord, that you have been doing your best to make your bird-witted sister see herself in the role of star-crossed lover, and that damned Lawrence fellow, as you so snidely refer to him, would have to be every bit as muttonheaded himself not to take advantage of it.” She stopped short, aghast at her effrontery, and stared at the back of Chieftain’s head, waiting for the explosion of wrath. It did not come.

“By God,” he said slowly, “I never thought about it in that light. She’s probably poured her heart out to that scoundrel. He certainly encourages every excess, even agreed to take her to a masquerade at Vauxhall.”

“Just so, my lord. And you put a stop to it, did you not?”

“Of course I did. Vauxhall’s no place for a respectable female. But I see what you mean,” he added. “Yes, I do see what you mean.” He lapsed into meditation, and Catheryn would have let the matter drop, but he spoke again. “Nevertheless, I shall speak to her about this morning’s affair. Her conduct was both unmannerly and deceitful.”

“Well, you need not,” Catheryn stated flatly. “It would be a bacon-brained thing to do. And that’s not funny,” she added when he burst into laughter.

“I daresay,” he answered when he could control himself. Meeting her accusing glare, he attempted to explain. “It’s only that I have not been called muttonheaded or bacon-brained by a female since I was in short coats. Do you always use such colorful language, Catheryn?”

She blushed. “I beg your pardon. I know I should not do so, but when I get carried away, I forget. It comes of living so long with Grandpapa, I expect. And I have not given you leave to call me Catheryn, sir.”

Ignoring the rider, he shook his head, eyes atwinkle. “Don’t beg my pardon. I like it. This conversation makes me feel I’ve known you for years instead of just two short days.”

She nodded. “Less than twenty-four hours, actually. But there is nothing like a quarrel for getting to know someone.”

Dambroke laughed. “I never considered quarreling a means to friendship, but I believe you may be right once more. However, we are not quarreling now. I am as wax in your hands. If I must not take Tiffany to task, please, what am I to do instead?”

Regarding him solemnly as though to assure herself that he spoke in earnest, it occurred to her that she liked him very much in this mood. “You may not care for it, my lord.” She paused, giving him a chance to demur, but he remained silent. “Very well. I think you must allow her to believe you hold me entirely responsible.” His brows knitted. “You need say nothing,” she added quickly. “Leave it to me. It is not impossible, I assure you. I could have stopped her, you know. I saw Hobbs’s face when she said you would not mind.” His frown deepened. “There, you see. You are becoming angry with me. I shall simply tell her that I have had a regular bear garden jaw and that you have nothing further to say to her.”