Chapter 3
Rupert
It took Rupert a while to find where he’d left the horses, and, although he didn’t say so, he was just beginning to wonder if they’d broken the twine and run back home when he heard one of them nicker in the darkness.
Controlling a sigh of utmost relief, he called softly to them to warn them of his arrival, and led Juliet into the little clearing where he’d left them.
She let out a sharp breath. “We’re riding?”
He nodded. “I thought it would be faster. You don’t want to get caught, do you, before we reach Gretna?”
She was silent for a few seconds before she held out the skirts of her gown. “I’m not wearing my riding habit.”
So she wasn’t. He hadn’t taken notice of her apparel until this moment. “Will it matter?”
Another silence which lasted a little longer than the first. “I suppose not.”
Good. That was settled then. He entirely missed the disappointment on her face, though.
His own horse already possessed saddlebags with the few items he’d thought worthy of bringing with him. However, it would take some doing to fasten Juliet’s hefty portmanteau to the back of her saddle. Luckily he’d brought ropes.
He’d only just begun when Juliet tapped him on the shoulder. “It’s no good, you know. I shall simply have to kiss you again.”
Thus followed an interlude in which he discovered a certain part of his anatomy could be very embarrassing. He retreated, blushing hotly and very glad she couldn’t see properly in the dark. “I’m terribly sorry…”
She giggled. “Oh, fiddlesticks. Do you not remember that while you’ve grown up in London, I’ve been here in the countryside and know quite well what happens when two animals mate. And, after all, are we not animals on two legs? And is this not an elaborate mating ritual?”
Rupert, having grown up with six older sisters, either in Town for their successive coming outs, or at home strictly under their determined supervision, did not possess nearly so much biological knowledge as his beloved and, if asked, would have deemed it inappropriate for a young lady.
Her reassurance did nothing to diminish his embarrassment, so he put his head down and returned to fastening her bag to her horse’s saddle.
He was a tiny bit worried about what lay ahead of him on their upcoming wedding night and being able to fulfil her expectations.
At last it was done and he was able to give her a leg up into the saddle. She gathered her reins like the expert he knew she was, and the horse he’d chosen from his stables, Lucifer, curvetted in anticipation of their ride.
His horse, Tarquin, who’d clearly got bored waiting for his master’s return, snorted as he attempted to mount and spun round, nearly knocking Rupert to the ground as he hopped on one leg, but he managed to get up unscathed and settled into the saddle.
One of the problems of having a lady love who was so at home in the saddle was that one risked looking a fool in comparison to her.
Especially when all one had ever done, no, had ever been allowed to do, was parade sedately up and down Rotten Row in Hyde Park.
He pushed that thought aside. “We have fifty miles to go before breakfast, so we must push on hard.”
She beamed at him. “I can do that, have no fear. Papa used to say I must have been born in the saddle.” And with that she set her heel to Lucifer’s side and he bounded away.
Tarquin didn’t wait to be asked, but leapt after him.
They were off.