Chapter 14
A note had arrived quite out of the blue, slipped onto Peter’s pillow whilst he was having his morning ablutions in his antechamber.
His man had set out his riding clothes as always, and he was ready to go for his morning ride.
No day was complete without it. Especially after a night out on the town, and Philip had the stamina of a man who’d been sent down from Oxford.
But they’d had shockingly good and surprisingly profound conversations. Or perhaps that had just been the pints of ale, convincing them both of their erudite pontifications.
Once he had thoroughly cleaned himself of the grime from London’s streets, Peter had spotted the piece of paper with the crisp writing and frowned. It didn’t look like his butler’s handwriting, but it said that Lady Ruby rode every morning in Hyde Park at eight a.m. It was now seven thirty a.m.
Usually, he went now. But…instead of heading right out the door as he usually would, Peter had a single cup of coffee, ate two slices of bacon, and then found himself lingering in his own bloody hall.
Trying to pass time. Because he didn’t want to miss her. His future wife… Now, of course, no one save Abby knew she was to be his future wife.
And that was a problem. They needed to announce it. The sooner the better. Once it was declared, there would be no going back. Surely, neither of them would wish to go back.
But there was a part of him, deep down, that was fairly convinced he couldn’t really have this. Her.
His father had made him understand just how unworthy he was of any good thing in his life. Hell, his father had made him feel unworthy of being alive.
Peter stopped in front of one of the many mirrors in his house. He checked his appearance one more time to make certain that his cravat was perfect, that his hair was neatly arranged.
And then he picked up his top hat from the footman awaiting him by the door. He took one more look at his riding breeches, made sure that they were snug, and then headed out into the foyer. He took his time going down his front steps too.
He drew in a long breath, trying to focus on the heat of the early morning and the scent of flowers that came from the gardens that were not too far away.
He still couldn’t forget the night in the library. It had been positively sublime and strange. He did not usually engage in such discourse with ladies.
Oh, he did engage in political conversation in salons, of course, but this had been far more intimate, what happened between them.
It had been strange because they had gone from one moment of intimacy to another of political discourse.
He had no idea that that could be done, and it had been more thrilling than any sort of affair he’d ever experienced before.
Was that what it was like to be married to someone one loved or liked? To go from day to day talking politics and then being in each other’s arms? Probably not. Most ladies didn’t do things like that, did they?
Or perhaps they did.
Maybe he just hadn’t known enough ladies like this.
Enough ladies who were independent. He rather liked it. And as he headed out to where his stallion, Augustus, was already waiting for him, he climbed up the mounting block, put his foot in the stirrup, and swung himself up.
He thanked the footman, then turned the reins ever so slightly and headed down the street towards the park where he would hopefully spot her.
And as he entered by Hyde Park Corner, he swung his gaze right to left. He peered through the many trees, his eyes flitting from beautifully dressed Londoner to beautifully dressed Londoner.
Of course, no doubt, she would be on Rotten Row showing off her clothes, her carriage, or her horse. But then he spotted her.
She wasn’t anywhere near Rotten Row.
She was riding along the great trees near the road, and she looked lost in thought. Dare he interject in her thoughts? Yes, he rather thought he would.
After what they had shared, what could stop him?
And so he clicked his tongue at Augustus, and Augustus, spotting her and recalling her, raced off in her direction.
“Steady there, boy,” he soothed. “I’m eager to see her too.”
Augustus picked up his pace and did not stop until he was trotting beside her.
Ruby was riding a beautiful, sleek little mare.
She looked over her shoulder and let out a laugh. “I was trying to see why my mare was suddenly acting so feistily. Of course, it’s you and your darling horse.”
“Hello, my darling boy,” she cooed at Augustus. “You look marvelous this morning.”
“And do I look marvelous?” Peter teased, unable to stop himself.
She grinned merrily at him, her eyes dancing under her fantastically adorned tricorn. “Of course you do. And you know it.”
Bloody hell she was beautiful in her crimson riding habit, the skirts draped over her mare’s form, which was as dark as midnight.
“As do you,” he said. His fingers itched to grab hold of those skirts. First, he’d have to find them a spot alone. Then he’d have to help her slide down from her horse.
And then? He’d take grateful fistfuls of the crimson fabric, slide it up her legs, slip his hand between her legs, and rejoice in just how much she reveled in the pleasure he could give her.
She was the stuff of his wildest dreams, and he highly doubted that, once they were married, they would ever be out of bed.
Indeed, he had every intention of making his bed their primary home.
“Do you ride every morning?” she asked, her cheeks heating, for she no doubt could read his intent in his gaze. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen you.”
He cleared his throat, needing to get ahold of himself. If he did not, he wouldn’t have a single wit left in which to direct his conversation. “Well, if I’m honest, I usually go out a bit earlier.”
“Did you go out last night and find you needed to lie in?” she asked.
“I did not see you out, and I cannot blame you for avoiding the Farrow’s card party.
I thought I was going to perish under the pain of the banality of the conversation.
How can such horribly boring people be so important?
And I really wouldn’t mind that they are boring if they weren’t so rude to the classes beneath them. ”
The Farrows were quite a difficult lot. They owned coal mines and had little shame in the way they made their workers live.
They also didn’t have an original thought in their heads.
But the Earl of Lynchfield had to deal with them for political purposes, and if Ruby was his heir, no doubt she had to deal with them too.
“My apologies for the company you endured. I’m sure you still were quite excellent. I did go out with a friend after seeing Abby again last night, but if I must confess, you were in my thoughts all night long.”
Her brows rose. “Was I indeed?”
“You were,” he said. Leaning in, he surreptitiously added, “You stole my sleep from me. I need it back.”
“I don’t think I can do that for you,” she said. “Unless you wish me to come and sit by your bed and sing you lullabies all night long.”
He parted his lips and said softly, “I don’t think I want you to sit by my bed. I’d far prefer you to be on my bed. In my bed.”
She let out another laugh, but it was rich with desire. “You are scandalous. Just because we have been so close does not mean that you can say such things to me in public.”
“Public,” he said, looking around. “There’s no one about.”
“Oh, eyes and ears are everywhere,” she warned.
That thought gave him pause.
He rather wondered at it. Eyes and ears did have to be everywhere. Otherwise, who would have put the note on his pillow? Who wanted him to see her?
A servant, his butler, a friend? It made no sense.
Who knew that he would want to go out to ride with her?
“You look most perplexed,” she said.
“Well, I think that someone is plotting.”
“Plotting what?” she asked, patting her hand along her mare’s mane.
He hesitated, then said, “Well, if I’m quite serious, putting us together.”
Her eyes widened. “My goodness. You can’t be serious,” she said.
“No, I am,” he said ruefully as the two animals walked side by side, both chomping at the bit to be given their head. “I had the strangest occurrence this morning.”
“What?” she asked before she tried to tease. “Did a soothsayer come to your door and tell you I was the one for you?”
“Most definitely not,” he said. “But I did find a note on my pillow telling me what time of day you rode.”
She swallowed. “That’s a bit concerning. Are people tracking my movements?”
“Yes,” he said easily. “I’m sure the entire ton is tracking your movements. I was not though. I wonder who put that upon my pillow.”
“I’d like to know too,” she said. “It makes me feel as if there are gods above us maneuvering us about like puppets.”
“Well, I am not a puppet,” he said. “But I did want to see you. So, honestly, I’m quite grateful to whoever did it.”
“That’s a very nice thing to say. And why would people want to maneuver us together?” she asked suddenly.
“Well, can’t you think?” he asked.
She tilted her head to the side. “We’d make beautiful children,” she said.
He laughed. “You are outrageous.”
“Yes, I am. And we would make beautiful children. Though having children seems most dangerous.”
“Yes, it is very dangerous for ladies,” he began.
“No, no, I don’t mean that,” she protested as she adjusted her gloved hands on her reins. “For once, I am not talking about the dangers that happen to ladies.”
“What do you mean then?” he urged, curious.
She licked her lips as if suddenly nervous. “Well, my parents, they’re a bit of a disaster. They are powerful and intelligent, but they’ve made mucks of their lives, and I fear…”
She looked away as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it.
“You seemed to suggest your upbringing has empowered you?”
“They love me,” she whispered. “They both do, but I’m not so certain that they are well people.
They’re so unkind to each other. I’ve found out my father was particularly unkind to my mother.
I don’t know why. But it did something to her.
And he spends all his time talking to parrots now rather than people, and I honestly don’t know if they’ve completely lost the plot.
” The words tumbled out of her, and she whispered, “I fear that if I have children that I’m just passing all that pain down.
I seem all right now, but what if I turn into my mother when I’m forty? Or my father, God forbid?”
“I cannot imagine you as your father in twenty years,” he said, trying to lighten the pain in her heart. “Besides, you’ll never grow that tall.”
She tsked and rolled her eyes. “Do be serious. I’m trying to tell you my fears.”
“I’m honored that you would tell me your fears,” he said, eschewing levity since that was what she preferred.
“The truth of it is we can’t control those things.
I hope to God I’m never like my father,” he said.
“My mother? I think I would like it if I was like her. I hope I am. She was wonderful, you know. Or at least that’s what I recall. ”
“I’m glad you knew her,” Ruby said gently.
“Not long enough,” he replied. “But my father was a monster. Everyone knows it. I know it better than most,” he said. “I spent my whole childhood trying to evade his wrath.”
She frowned, her eyes shining with sorrow for him. “He didn’t send you off to Eton?”
He snorted. “I had tutors for the first eleven years of my life. He wanted to make sure that he’d shaped me exactly as he pleased, and I was alone in the house with him and the servants.
It was hell, if I’m honest. And it’s a miracle that I did not become like him.
I think only the memory of my mother and not wishing to disappoint her saved me.
She never would have wanted me to become cruel. ”
“I’m very sorry,” she said.
He swallowed, shocked at the way the words were tumbling out of him now.
“When I finally got away and did go, I found friends, and it was wonderful. But he definitely did everything he could to crush that as well. He wanted me to be miserable. It made him happy to make me miserable, but I learned to manage him as best I could.”
“I manage my parents too,” she confessed before she clamped her mouth shut as if she was horrified she’d said such a thing.
“Why do they need to be managed?” he asked.
She winced. “Because they’ve always been unhappy.”
“Are you unhappy?” he asked carefully.
“Not a bit of it,” she said with a forced cheer that didn’t reach her eyes, but then she hesitated, and he feared that she was lying to him or, worse, to herself.
“I’d like to try to make you happy. At least today,” he said.
“There’s one way to do that,” she said, dancing away from the subject.
“And?” he asked.
“Let’s race.”
“Did you get that invitation?” he asked.
“Oh, the one to the charity race? I did,” she said, but her lips turned down. “Will you be racing in it?”
“I most certainly will,” he said. “I’m honored to be asked.”
He couldn’t tell why she was displeased, if she loved horses so much.
“I wish I could race in it,” she said.
“I wish you could too. I’ve heard you’ve a good seat.”
“It’s ridiculous that ladies can’t,” she said, seeming rather tired. “It’s a boon that I can openly select a horse from my stables to put in the race without my father’s name. But still… I must stand by the side and cheer the men on.”
“Will you cheer me on?” he asked.
“You know I will,” she said. “But the entire thing is most frustrating, especially when I know that I could win. Especially if I had one of Windbourne’s Arabians.”
“Did you get one off of him?” he asked, rather hating the idea of the two of them together.
“No, not yet. The man seems to be all over the ton at present. And I’ve no wish to encourage him in thinking I’d like to be a duchess.”
“We should announce our marriage. That will do it,” he offered.
She laughed. “Yes, it will. My mother is against our marriage. Just so you know.”
“I see. And your father?”
She winked. “My father will do whatever I ask.”
“Then we are set?” he asked, feeling his heart lighten, not realizing he had feared what she’d say. Not realizing he’d feared she still might choose the Duke of Windbourne with the Arabians she loved so well.
“Indeed, we are. Shall we say St. Paul’s? As soon as the banns can be read?”
He grinned. “I like your efficiency.”
“Why, thank you.”
He leaned towards her then, eager to see her smile again. He wanted to see her smile forever. “If you can’t join the charity race, perhaps you could at least race me here,” he said.
She grinned, her eyes brightening. “Of course.”
“Then let’s go,” he declared, his heart full, feeling as if he was on top of the world.
And the next thing he knew, they were racing hell for leather across Hyde Park, laughing, both of them happier than they had ever been.
And he was grateful again to whoever left that note on his pillow. And he hoped they were indeed controlled by the gods and that the gods would make certain that all would work out for them because in his past, very little ever had.