CHAPTER TWELVE
Amelia noticed how distraite her cousin appeared.
Her friend Julia, with an acute ear for gossip, had been swift to tell her what was being whispered, and, with the afternoon uppermost in her mind, she wondered why Elizabeth seemed not in alt, but confused.
Sir Lucius, whilst clearly not an unattractive man, was rather too dry and complicated for her taste, but she thought, even in her novice womanhood, that he and her cousin seemed made for each other.
There was some indefinable spark between them, though had she mentioned it, Elizabeth would no doubt have laughed and said it was a spark that led to outbursts of wrath.
Yet Lady Killingholme’s words had been sensible.
What if she rejected the man and then realised over time that it might have worked?
No man would ask twice, she was sure. The answer might be to put off any declaration until such time as she might know her own mind.
This would mean damping down those instincts that wanted accord with him, and giving free rein to her inclination for verbal jousting, which both irritated her and yet had a frisson to it.
At this moment being annoyed with him was easy, so she had little doubt that holding him off would not be difficult.
The old lady had also, with the lack of embarrassment common to the aged, talked of him as ‘red-blooded’.
As she took to her bed that evening Elizabeth was prey to wicked thoughts of what it might be like to be kissed by Sir Lucius Radstock.
She blushed, and hid her head under the bedclothes in the same manner she had as a child hiding from monsters.
However, this was not a monster but a temptation, and since it inhabited her head, the covers gave no protection.
‘Good morning, Sir Lucius.’
‘The weather has not beaten us a second time, Miss Ashling, I am glad to say. The mare looks very fresh this morning.’ He was admiring the picture she made, the soft grey and deep red of her habit complementing the deeper greys of the horse. They made a fine pair.
‘She has given me an interesting few minutes, I admit, but I feel confident that she knows who is in control, and who would wish to crawl about as I had to with the Slug.’
It was the first time that he had heard her actually name the hired hack, and it brought a sharp crack of laughter, which made the mare toss her head.
‘An apt name, for it was assuredly not a real horse. It did you no justice, Miss Ashling; that much was apparent from the first.’
She told herself that the man was being patronising, though his tone did nothing to indicate it, and thereby 157fuelled her resentment. Her smile became fixed and her eyes, which had been unconsciously bright and laughing, grew cold. Her voice lost the intimacy.
‘It seems, Sir Lucius, that your opinion is highly sought after when it comes to the purchase of horses. I wonder, perhaps, if you advised Lord Godmanchester upon the purchase of Mist here, for his wife?’ She looked at him speculatively.
‘Godmanchester would not buy a poor animal, but yes, I was with him at the time.’ He wondered what had suddenly happened to make her withdraw from him without warning.
‘And were not silent?’
‘No, not silent, ma’am.’ He would not lie to her direct.
‘Then you must think me foolish to invite you to come and view an animal of whose points, good and bad, you are already well aware. I must applaud your, shall we say “joint” choice, but I do wonder that you selected such a spirited mare. I recall Lady Godmanchester as a competent rider, but not a daring one.’
As if to confirm this, the grey mare curvetted, and Elizabeth took some moments to bring her back alongside Sir Lucius. He watched, apparently unconcerned, but ready, should he be needed, to grab her bridle above the bit. He need not have worried, and could even admire her skill.
Miss Ashling was in no way discomposed, and even seemed to relish the mild tussle of wills.
She smiled naturally again, and patted the mare’s neck.
‘You see, sir, she really is no novice ride. To be honest, she is a bit of a handful, but with a lovely soft mouth, and very responsive. All she needs is firm handling.’
158Sir Lucius did not reply instantly. Miss Ashling, the reserved, chilly Miss Ashling that had reappeared for a moment, was once again so different a being.
There was a slight flush to her cheek now, a genuine smile on her lips, and when she did the beauty that had stirred his interest but mildly was transformed.
‘I, er, let Godmanchester be the judge of his wife’s abilities as a horsewoman,’ he lied, laying any misjudgement at his friend’s door. ‘However, I think it fair to say that you, Miss Ashling, find her just in your style.’
‘Indeed. At home, in Sussex, I have a chestnut mare, Pallas, who is of a not dissimilar temperament, but has learnt who is mistress, as this one, as yet, has not. But neither has an ounce of vice; it is all spirit and eagerness. My uncle, who is himself not particularly interested in horses, approached Lord Egremont, who obviously is, and has his stud at Petworth. He obligingly found Pallas for me. She has Gohanna as her sire, and I am terribly proud of her. I think Lord Egremont found her a trifle disappointing, having hoped she might make a good brood mare, but felt she was a little short in the back for perfection. However, she is a lovely mount.’
Sir Lucius blinked. It was unusual to meet a young lady who knew anything at all about the best thoroughbreds, unless it was the latest winner of the Derby, and then it would be merely the name, and perhaps what colour it was.
There were ladies who attended the races, but most were older, and married to gentlemen who frequented the meetings.
‘Forgive me, Miss Ashling, I did not know that you were 159acquainted with Lord Egremont.’ Sir Lucius was a little surprised.
‘Ah, not very well, Sir Lucius. My papa was a friend of his many years ago, but my aunt would not permit me to go to Petworth, though it is not far from either Marden Hall or Dowlands, in view of Lord Egremont’s, er, unusual domestic arrangements.
She says his house is “overrun with doxies and children of shame” and no decent woman should enter its portals.
I have, however, met him at the races at Goodwood, of course.
My uncle attends the meetings there, and I have joined him occasionally.
I fear he is more interested in the company than the horses, unlike Lord Egremont, whom I found to be a very nice old gentleman, and a fount of knowledge.
I think he picked Pallas for me because of my father. ’
‘I myself own two mares bred from the Petworth stud, and breed on a modest scale.’
Elizabeth coloured, remembering the overheard conversation and the misinterpretation of his words.
‘So Lady Godmanchester informs me, sir.’ She lowered her eyes, and he frowned, thinking she objected to the mentioning of such a matter. It seemed odd.
‘If I have offended you by speaking of—’
‘Good grief, sir, do you think me so poor a specimen, having such exaggerated sensibilities?’
‘No, ma’am, but …’ His voice trailed off.
‘But it was easy to think it?’ She glowered at him.
He was getting confused. She seemed to be blowing alternately hot and cold with him, and he could not, for the life of him, think why. ‘What have I done, Miss Ashling?’
160‘Done, Sir Lucius?’ She tried to look as if she had no idea of his meaning.
‘Yes. It is not, was not, my intention to irritate or anger you, and yet you seem to harbour some animosity towards me today that, forgive the impertinence, was not there when we met yesterday. Has someone so traduced my character to you, Miss Ashling?’ He tried to speak lightly, but there was a frown in his eyes.
She felt his sense of hurt, and it made her feel guilty, and in her turn she blamed him for making her feel that way. She could not shout at him that she was angry because he took so much for granted.
‘No, Sir Lucius. I have never heard anything that would cast your character in a bad light.’
‘Then what is it?’
‘You presume, sir, perhaps more than exists, has existed.’
‘Is a presumption of friendship too much, Miss Ashling?’ His voice was low and quiet, and very sincere.
She looked him in the eye. He deserved that much. ‘Perhaps, at this moment, sir, yes. I … find it difficult. Please, do not press me.’
He did not more than half understand, but saw that she was troubled. ‘I will not press you, Miss Ashling, but when you find it in yourself to admit friendship, be sure that mine will be waiting for you.’
She wanted to answer him, but her throat felt tight, and so she nodded, biting her lip.
He was conscious of a feeling of protectiveness, so strong that it was almost a physical thing.
Its intensity took him by surprise. He did not want to part from her like this, but it had created a tension between them.
161‘Shall we canter, ma’am, and perhaps this … difficulty … can be set aside for a while?’
They did so, and she let her mind empty. The big bay had a longer stride, and drew ahead slightly. She watched the straight back of Lucius Radstock, and only the depth of her fear held her back. After all, the more one felt, the worse the betrayal.