Chapter Thirteen
“I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle.”
FITZ
“REGENCY SOCIETY EXPECTED WOMEN TO ride daintily and gracefully,” Lady Catherine pompously orated from underneath an umbrella that some poor staff member held over her. She stood on a small platform in the field next to the stables, where several footmen dressed in period attire stood waiting near well-groomed and expensive horses. They weren’t as fine or as expensive as mine, but they still impressed me. Lady Catherine, of course, would not be riding any of them, as she’d already declared that it would be improper for her to do so, considering her station. Bollocks, in my opinion. My bet was she couldn’t ride sidesaddle.
“I expect no less from you. There will be no riding the horses astride or showing off ankles or calves.”
“Yeah, that’d be a real shame for someone to see these sexy ankles,” Lydia snickered, trying her best to drop her cockney accent, while lifting her habit, revealing thick ankles. “All the boys would come running.”
Monroe stifled a giggle next to me. She had begrudgingly remained by my side, as I was determined not to let her push me away, even if I deserved it. When we’d arrived at the stables, I’d followed her wherever she stood, and she had finally given up, at least for now.
Her words during breakfast pricked me and had given me a great deal to contemplate. Had I intentionally kept myself from her for ignoble reasons? Was I as proud as, or even more proud than, the character I was playing? I admit to being a cold, uncaring bastard most of the time, but I’d never believed I behaved that way toward Monroe. If anything, she brought out a side in me I had never known. Yet I wasn’t sure I had ever let myself lean into that side of me. Had I allowed my pride and vanity to keep us apart? The thought vexed me. I loved Monroe, but I was beginning to wonder if I’d failed to believe in her the way I should.
“I’m sure many of you think that riding sidesaddle is uncomfortable, but ...,” Lady Catherine barreled on.
We’d already been outside for a good half hour listening to her pontificate on outdoor etiquette, the importance of women wearing gloves and bonnets, how a gentleman should be a good listener, and how he should never touch a lady’s bare skin, not even on her hand.
I wished I’d touched more of Monroe’s skin last night, and kept my mouth on hers instead of putting a proverbial foot in mine. I worried Mr. Bennet was right. There were some things you just couldn’t come back from. The thought sickened me. Is this how Mr. Darcy felt after his first proposal to Elizabeth? Did he feel as if all hope was lost? If only Monroe had a sister I could save from Mr. Wickham—something that would allow me to get back in her good graces. Along those lines, I wondered if I should warn the woman playing Charlotte to stay away from Tony. I noticed she’d glued herself to his side. Tony seemed to enjoy the attention and made sure to flaunt it in front of Monroe. I planned on putting an end to his game as soon as I found out which one he was playing.
“The fact of the matter is,” Lady Catherine continued, “riding sidesaddle is quite comfortable, and you can be just as in control as you would be riding astride.”
“Then why don’t the men do it?” Kitty grumbled in front of us. It was a fair question.
“We will have Mrs. Gardiner demonstrate, with the help of a footman and mounting block, how to properly mount a horse and how easy riding sidesaddle is.” I believed Mrs. Gardiner was a paid staff member.
Monroe strung her arm through Jane’s as they watched Mrs. Gardiner mount the horse, maintaining the dignity Lady Catherine demanded. It was obvious Jane was uneasy about the prospect of riding a horse. Of course, Monroe did her best to comfort her. But the man playing Bingley seemed to be irritated she wouldn’t just refuse to do it. I was with him. If Jane was that uncomfortable, she should stand up to Lady Catherine. After all, we were the guests here. Lady Catherine, however, treated most everyone like her subjects.
“You’ve got this,” Monroe assured Jane. “I promise not to help you. We all know how embarrassing that could get.” She laughed, but I could hear the ache in her voice from suppressing that part of her character.
What had I done? It was never my intention for Monroe to lose herself because of me or to make her think she was an embarrassment. All I wanted for us was to be together and for her to be respected.
I took Monroe’s hand, hoping the right words would come to me, but she was quick to pull away from me.
“I’m going to get a closer look. Excuse me,” she said to Lydia and Kitty as she brushed past them, closer to the field, away from me.
Tony took the opportunity to sidle up to me. “I see all’s not well in paradise. That article ...” He whistled low.
I clenched my fists, wanting to beat him to a bloody pulp. Even more, I loathed myself for never telling Monroe what a prick I thought he was because I couldn’t or wouldn’t admit how I felt about her. As calmly as I could, I turned toward him. “Did you ever love her?”
“I still do, but uh ... you know she can be a lot, and it’s not like her career was really going places.”
“You broke up with her over how much money she makes?” I seethed.
He tugged on his collar. “It’s complicated.”
“You make me sick.”
“From the looks of your face in that photo, Monroe makes you sick.” He stormed off.
His words left me feeling sucker punched. Monroe didn’t make me sick. I was only sick for worrying what others would think of her at the airport. I had to make Monroe believe that.
“Everyone, choose a horse,” Lady Catherine called. “Immerse yourself in the experience. Become your character.”
“Become my character. Become my character,” Jane chanted, her voice shaking.
To hell with my character, I thought. I wouldn’t wait around for months for some stroke of luck to put me back in Monroe’s good graces. The thought of waiting even seconds seemed torturous. I pushed my way through the other guests to find Monroe near the chestnut Haflinger. It was a smaller breed of horse, perfect for dressage. People know them for their kindness and intelligence. It was a perfect choice for Monroe. I knew of no one as kind as she was, and she possessed an innate intelligence often overlooked by others—including me.
A footman stood ready to assist Monroe, but I stepped forward. “Please allow me.”
The footman immediately retreated.
Monroe wrinkled her nose at me. “I don’t need your help.”
“Regardless, I want to help you.”
“Are you saying you think I need help?”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s not what I’m saying.” I bent down and held the stirrup steady for her.
“I don’t even know why you want to be seen with me.” She stepped up on the mounting block and slipped her delicate foot, silhouetted in brown leather boots, into the stirrup.
I did the ungentlemanly thing and ran my hand up her skirt, letting my fingers skim her toned calf.
Her breath hitched. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” My fingers danced down her silky skin, where goose bumps appeared.
“Um ...,” she stuttered. “That’s not very proper or duke-like.”
“I’ve never shown you my duke side, but I’d like to.”
“Don’t even try to be sexy with me. We both know that I’m not in your league,” she snapped while perfectly mounting her horse, making sure to keep her right leg resting against the horse’s left shoulder.
Did I ever want to be sexy with her. Instead, I did the gentlemanly thing and adjusted her skirt to make sure it covered her legs, but I refused to let her go. “Monroe, after everything we’ve been through, are you really willing to let our relationship go?” I pleaded to know.
Her eyes welled with tears. “I don’t even know now if what we had was real.” She snapped the reins and trotted away from me.
How could she think that? Of course it was real. It had been the most real thing in my life. I headed for the nearest unoccupied horse, a great black beast. Without a second thought, I mounted the animal and chased after Monroe, who had headed toward the lake. I passed Jane and noted her gripping tightly to the reins of her horse, trying to coax it to move. She kept saying things like, “Nice horse, nice horse.”
It was probably for the best, I told myself as I cantered toward Monroe.
Monroe sat tall and dignified in the saddle, obviously trying to prove to herself she was worthy of the role she was playing, even though Elizabeth, according to the book, was not a horsewoman. More and more I began to fear what life as a duchess would do to Monroe—the stiffness of her expression wasn’t her. I wanted her smiles and irreverent laughter. I wanted her.
Monroe noticed me approaching and diverted her horse around the tranquil lake with a smattering of lily pads and leaves from the nearby trees that would soon change as autumn approached. Normally, Monroe would have squealed with delight over the lily pads—she thought they were the cutest. What I would give for that now.
I took Monroe’s side, my horse keeping pace with hers, and though I could tell the beast wished to dart across the field, I held him steady. “Monroe, we need to talk. I’m not letting you go without a fight.”
“I don’t understand why.”
“Because I lo—”
A cry of terror permeated the air. It was Jane. Her horse was galloping across the field, with her barely hanging on.
Monroe made to follow her, but she hesitated with a second thought. Deep anguish filled her beautiful features. “I don’t want to be an embarrassment or make it worse. But ... my mom,” she cried, conflicted. “I have to help.” She snapped the horse’s reins and flew after Jane.
Chuffing hell, this had the makings of a disaster. Where was that Bingley chap? Or a member of the staff? I raced after Monroe, hoping to beat her to Jane.
“I’m coming, Jane!” Monroe shouted, her bonnet flying off her head. “Hold on, it will be okay.”
I watched in horror as Monroe tried to swing her right leg to the right side mid-gallop so she could ride astride like she was Annie Oakley. For a moment, it appeared she knew exactly what she was doing as she rushed to Jane’s aid. I wasn’t sure what she planned to do once she reached Jane, but it didn’t matter. My world stopped when Monroe’s horse reared up with no warning, and before Monroe had a good foothold, it tossed her violently to the ground.
I pulled up on my horse’s reins. But before the beast halted, I jumped off and ran to Monroe crumpled on the ground, not moving. I couldn’t get to her fast enough. “Please help!” I shouted, not knowing what I would find when I reached her.
“Monroe.” I threw myself next to her on the damp ground. Her dark hair had fallen out of the hairpins and spilled all around her. Gently, I brushed her hair away from her face, careful not to move her and fearing the worst. Her eyes flitted open for an almost imperceptible second.
“Fitz,” she moaned before her eyes fell closed again.
I took her hand. “Monroe, hold on. Please,” I said frantically, begging her. “I love you,” I said the words I’d been holding back for years, hating myself for all the wasted time. Time? It’s all I wanted now—more time with Monroe.