Chapter 7
With each plodding step, Anne grew more frustrated.
Dolly refused to go any faster, although fast was probably never a word associated with the sluggardly beast. She had almost made it to the curve in the path where she and Mr. Grey had lost sight of Miranda and Lord Grump when rustling and hoofbeats sounded ahead.
Perhaps Mr. Grey had been unable to locate the other pair and returned to escort her back to the house.
Her stomach plummeted when the horse rounding the group of trees was not black but white. Lord Grump! What was he doing coming back? Anne craned her neck, watching for Mr. Grey and Miranda to follow.
But no. The grump scowled as he approached—alone.
“Miss Weatherby.” He shimmied his horse next to her. “Hand me the reins to your mount.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“Encourage your horse to move. Now, hand them over.” He barked the order.
She hesitated at first, but the force of his command and his piercing gaze had her unwillingly complying. Encased in brown leather, his hand seemed huge as she slipped the reins over his palm.
Uneasy without the reins in her hands, she gripped the low pommel to steady herself and waited.
Lord Grump eased his mount forward, but Dolly would have none of it. Everything happened so quickly. Dolly reared, pulling the reins from his grip, and tumbling Anne to the ground.
“Miss Weatherby!” Lord Grump leapt from his mount.
Before either of them could realize it, Dolly took off in a flash back to the stables.
“I didn’t think she had it in her,” Anne said as Dolly’s rump disappeared in a blur.
Lord Moody-Manning crouched down beside her. “Are you injured?”
From his expression, she could almost believe he cared, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much her bottom hurt. “No. No thanks to you. What made you think that was a good idea?”
“I didn’t know she was nappy. I wonder how long it’s been since the stablemaster has taken her out.”
He rose and extended a hand, which she refused. She turned in the direction of Dolly’s escape. “Now what do we do?”
Lord Grumpy-Trousers rubbed the back of his neck. “I should escort you back to the house.”
“We can’t leave Miranda and Mr. Grey alone!” Did the man have no sense of propriety?
“You’re right.” While Major nibbled on some tender grass, the grouch paced and muttered to himself, “You can’t ride my horse. Not with your skirts, and Burwood is particular with Major.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes. I’ll walk. It’s not that far.”
He glowered at her. “Let you walk while I ride? I’d look like a cad. No. Absolutely not.”
“Well, what do you propose, then, o-epitome-of-gentlemanly-behavior?”
“We both ride. On Major.”
Speechless for a moment, she stared before finding her voice. “Are you proposing I ride on your lap?”
“We can reach Grey and Lady Miranda in a few moments. No one will presume anything untoward has happened.”
She huffed. Although she hated to admit it, his solution was the most efficient. “Very well. But make note that I am only agreeing to this for expediency’s sake.”
“And I’m only doing it so we can finish this farce of a ride.” He mounted Major and held out his hand. “Put your foot on my boot, and I’ll lift you up.”
“You don’t have to be so bossy,” she mumbled. She’d barely placed her hand in his and her foot on his boot when he lifted her onto his lap as if she weighed nothing.
His arms pressed against her sides as he controlled the reins and eased Major forward. And oh, she’d forgotten how lovely he smelled, the fragrance of shaving soap and citrusy bergamot even stronger up close.
In probably at least half the time it would have taken her on her own, they reached Miranda and Mr. Grey, who seemed to be deep in conversation, but pulled apart upon seeing Anne and the grump approach.
Mr. Grey’s eyes widened upon seeing them both on Major. “That was faster than we anticipated. What happened to your horse, Miss Weatherby?”
“The beast was nappy,” Lord I-Know-Everything said. “I tried to give it a bit of encouragement, and it reared, throwing Miss Weatherby from the saddle before running back to the stables.”
Miranda nudged her horse closer. “Are you injured, Anne?”
“No.” And honestly, her sore bottom felt rather nice against Lord Grump. Dash it all!
“I shouldn’t have left you,” Mr. Grey said.
Anne waved it aside. “Nonsense, Mr. Grey. You had no idea Lord Manning would attempt something so ridiculous.”
“I will escort Miss Weatherby back,” the grump said.
“We can’t leave Mr. Grey and Miranda alone.” Anne peered over her shoulder and glowered at the dolt. Really, what was he thinking?
“Well, we certainly can’t continue the ride with Anne on Lord Manning’s lap,” Miranda said, her lips twitching upward. “We should all return to the house.”
Mr. Grey lifted a hand, indicating Miranda should lead, then followed behind her.
Waiting by the stables, a groom held Dolly’s reins. The recalcitrant beast had the nerve to whinny at Anne as they approached.
Mr. Grey dismounted and approached, assisting Anne off Lord Grump’s lap. Anne had never been so glad to have her feet back on solid ground, and she threaded her arm through Mr. Grey’s. “Well, that was horrible.”
He chuckled softly. “I’m glad you weren’t injured in your fall.”
She glared at Lord Moody-Manning. “No thanks to Lord Manning.”
The object of her ire slid from his horse with more liquid grace than she wanted to admit. “I’ve told you I didn’t know the horse was nappy.”
“Well, you should have realized it.”
“Fine. Blame me.”
She jerked her chin at him. “I will.”
The four of them walked in silence toward Hartridge House, and Anne tried in vain not to look at Lord Grump’s broad shoulders as he strode before her. Relief flooded her when the house came into view. She would find another way to occupy herself that didn’t involve the mercurial man.
Squeals of girlish laughter drifted toward them.
A group formed a circle around something that had fully captured the attention of all the children present, even little Lady Kitty and Lady Nora, who both toddled around on chubby legs, with Nora promptly falling on her cloth-padded bottom.
Honoria held little Henry—or rather Lord Langford, as the nine-month-old infant held the courtesy title of Marquess of Langford—who squirmed and made grabby hands toward whatever held everyone in such fascination.
How Honoria managed to stay so vibrant and happy, Anne had no idea. The girls were barely fourteen months apart, and Henry had been born only sixteen months after Nora.
Anne’s own mama had often stated having Andrew and Arthur two years apart had nearly been the death of her. Perhaps remaining unmarried wasn’t such a bad thing.
A man Anne didn’t recognize stood to the side, his hands on his hips. Older than the other men present, he gazed up from the center of attraction, then said something to Honoria.
“Oh, Miranda, Anne, Colin, Mr. Grey, come see what Mr. Ford has brought Drake!” Honoria said as they approached.
Cassie and Ellie raced toward their father. “Oh, Papa, he’s adorable,” Cassie said as she grasped the grump’s hand and pulled him forward.
Ellie took his other hand and evened out the tugging. “Cassie and I want one.”
“What do you suppose it is?” Anne asked Mr. Grey.
A high-pitched bark answered her question before Mr. Grey had a chance, and the circle of people parted to reveal a spaniel puppy who frolicked from person to person.
Oh, but Cassie was right; it was adorable. Anne quickened her pace, careful to keep it from being a full-on run. No doubt if she did, Lord Manning would throw her to the ground again, claiming she was about to cause injury to the crowd.
“He’s a gift from Mr. Ford for Drake’s birthday,” Honoria said as Anne crouched down to pet the puppy.
Tiny paws clawed at her skirts, and she stooped down farther. “Aren’t you precious.” Using its pink tongue, the pup covered her face with little dog kisses. Giggles erupted spontaneously, and she forgot her frustrating ride on Dolly and her previously sour mood.
Squatting beside her, Ellie gave the puppy’s head a gentle pat. “What are you going to name him, Uncle Drake?”
Anne gazed up at Burwood.
“Well, if it wouldn’t bring back too many uncomfortable memories, Mother, I was thinking I would call him Flash.”
Mrs. Merrick’s mouth opened, and she drew in an audible breath.
Was Flash an offensive name? Anne wasn’t quite sure, but everyone’s attention trained on Mrs. Merrick and waited for her answer.
She wiped at her eyes a little, then said, “It’s perfect. Your father would love it. I love it. What do you think, Mr. Ford? Would Lord Gyles have approved?”
The tall, previously unfamiliar man nodded.
“He would indeed. Gyles was most fond of Henry’s dog.
I wasn’t sure how His Grace would feel, but little Flash comes from the same line as his namesake.
In fact, he may be a direct descendant. And please, Mrs. Merrick, call me Reggie.
Gyles admired you greatly, and through him, I felt as if I, too, know you. I feel like we’re old friends.”
Burwood untangled the squirming puppy from Anne’s skirts and lifted him into his arms. “Then it’s settled. Welcome to our family, Flash. Now, Reggie, you must be exhausted from your trip from London. Why don’t we all go inside and have some refreshments?”
As Anne trailed the rest of the group inside the house, pleas rose from Cassie and Ellie. “Please, Papa, can we have a puppy? Mr. Ford says there are four more in the litter.”
From the stern look on Lord Grump’s face, the answer would be “No.”
A puppy. Colin sighed and tried to avoid the pleading look on his daughters’ faces.
He liked dogs. He had two hounds of his own, Bull and Titan.
But the breed of spaniel now belonging to Burwood was the type for petting and lap sitting, with floppy ears and huge eyes that threatened to break your heart.
And Colin’s heart had been damaged enough, thank you very much.
“Papa?”