Chapter 3 #2
Renee rode sidesaddle, and he wondered when she’d finally acquiesced to it. He mounted his own horse, and she quickly challenged him to a race. They galloped off down the beach away from his intended target, but now that he knew Stephen was all right, he would bide his time.
She beat him to the designated outcrop of rock—Cecil always had a poorer seat than he had—so Richard cheated and started back before she did.
He let the exhilaration of the sun and sand and the feel of the horse pounding beneath him take away his constant worries.
He and Renee were both laughing, neck and neck, when he pulled up a bit too near his governess.
Miss Shelby caught Stephen’s shoulders and pulled him against her, wearing the wary look of a mother lion.
He liked her dedication. If he hadn’t lost his hat in the surf, he would have doffed it to her.
She was dressed in another drab gown, but the wind tossed the skirt this way and that so that he glimpsed her white lace petticoats.
So…her undergarments weren’t as plain as her outer garments. He felt a thrill of a challenge he shouldn’t be feeling. A normal duke should never pay too much attention to his servants.
But Cecil wasn’t a normal duke—and Richard wasn’t the duke at all.
“Good afternoon, Miss Shelby,” he said.
She gave a brief curtsy that he sensed was very reluctant.
“Your Grace,” she murmured.
Stephen grinned up at him and pulled away from his governess. “Father! You ride so fast. Have you been taking lessons like I have?”
His expert riding had been a critical mistake, but one Richard could thankfully rectify. He gave the boy a conspiratorial wink and said, “I couldn’t continue to let Miss Barome beat me in races, now could I?”
Renee was struggling to tame her hair, the last curl of which had lost its anchor in the salty wind.
She caught it with one hand and gave the governess a frank, friendly stare, before looking down from her horse at Stephen.
“Lord Ramsgate, I’ve spent my life outdoing your father on horseback.
Since I have much more patience at my lessons than he does, I’ll be faster again in no time. ”
“I can ride fast, too.” Stephen said. “Bill the stable boy says my mother rode like the wind. Isn’t that a funny thing? Miss Shelby says I take far too many risks.”
Now that sounded like Cecil, Richard thought.
“My manners are atrocious,” he said. “Miss Renee Barome, meet my new governess, Miss Shelby.” He saw Miss Shelby give a start at his possessive wording where she was concerned, and he felt a very male satisfaction.
He had never thought teasing a woman the way Cecil always did could be enjoyable, but this was one thing he was learning.
Yet he understood too well from personal experience not to take it any further.
“Miss Shelby, Miss Barome is one of our neighbors.”
The women exchanged good afternoons, while Stephen reached up to pet the horses’ noses.
“C-could I ride with you, Father?”
There was a hesitancy in the boy’s voice that reminded Richard of the uncertainty of his own childhood. He told himself that Cecil would not bother with his son’s request, not when there were women to charm. But Stephen was the whole reason why he was there.
Grinning, Richard reached down. “Grab my hand in both of yours. Up we go.”
He pulled the boy up in front of him and set off down the beach. To his surprise, Renee didn’t follow them.
Meriel shielded her eyes from the glare and watched the duke ride away with his son, ignoring her own strange surge of pleasure as he moved.
There was a recklessness to his gallop that felt like…
freedom. What was it like to be at the top of the world, to do whatever one pleased?
Once she had thought the days stretched out in endless pleasure before her.
As long as she chose the correct husband, she could live as she wished.
But all those dreams were gone. She was too logical to dwell on the sadness of that for long, because the past couldn’t be changed.
Miss Barome dismounted and came to stand at her side. She, too, watched the duke and Stephen race away from them.
“It is good to see him take an interest in his son after all these years,” Miss Barome said.
Meriel was surprised to hear the woman speak so freely. “He is the boy’s father,” she said hesitantly, uncertain of her place with a stranger.
“Maybe he’s finally realizing that,” Miss Barome said. She glanced at Meriel. “I never thought that would happen. It gives me hope for Cecil.”
Meriel reacted with raised eyebrows to the woman’s familiar use of the duke’s name.
Miss Barome laughed. “Forgive my insolence. I have known the duke since we were children. I didn’t call him ‘Your Grace’ then, so I can hardly start now.”
“I did not mean to imply that it was my concern,” Meriel said carefully.
“Of course you didn’t, but if we’re to be friends, you should know that.”
Surprised, Meriel remained silent and wary.
Miss Barome held her hair out of her face and gave her another frank smile.
“You’ll discover that I make friends easily, Miss Shelby.
More importantly, I am a good judge of character.
You’re new here, so you must not know many people.
And you’re a governess, which implies a certain solitude in a great house like Thanet Court. Am I correct?”
Meriel slowly smiled. “You’re correct on all counts, Miss Barome. And I gladly accept the offer of friendship. It has been a lonely few weeks.”
Miss Barome linked her arm through Meriel’s, her horse’s reins held in her other hand, and they both started walking in the direction taken by the duke and his son.
“You must come to my home for tea this Sunday,” Miss Barome said. “I assume you don’t teach on the Lord’s day?”
“Again, you’re correct. And I would be delighted.”
The duke and his son rejoined them soon enough, and to Meriel’s suspicion, the duke opened his saddle bag and spilled his provisions onto a blanket in the sand. Her first thought was that he’d planned for a private tryst with Miss Barome. But there was far too much food for just two people.
“I always travel prepared,” he boasted, throwing himself down to lie on his side on the blanket while the ladies busied themselves serving him.
“Since when,” Miss Barome scoffed, unwrapping the paper from cherry tarts.
He shrugged and laughed. “Since Mrs. Theobald insisted.”