Chapter Five
Marianne would never dream of visiting Hyde Park at a fashionable hour. Aunt Clementine gave her a generous clothing allowance, but she could imagine little worse than promenading and peacocking before the great families of the ton.
She neither wanted to see nor be seen.
But in the hour just after sunrise, the beautiful park was a haven of peace and tranquility.
Birds sang overhead and the morning air smelled fresh and clean, of newly cut grass and blowsy roses.
The temperature had not yet risen too high, and Marianne was quite comfortable in her pea-green riding habit.
Her horse, a high-stepping chestnut, walked out confidently as if he too were pleased to be out in the open, surrounded by so much space.
As they reached the smooth path of Rotten Row, Marianne urged him into a canter and soon a wide smile stretched across her face.
Freedom!
Why had she not done this sooner?
Marianne guided her horse around a bend and reflected that she knew the answer well enough. She was afraid of putting a foot wrong, of facing censure and disapproval. But wasn’t it time she stopped allowing fear to control her life?
She gently tightened the reins until her horse slowed, patting his neck and telling him he was a good boy. It was a relief to know that, despite all she had endured, she was still a woman who enjoyed a brisk canter around the park.
Would Lord Benedict countenance her riding out alone? Or would he pour scorn upon her, the way Victor had?
Pushing thoughts of her former husband firmly from her mind, Marianne thought that Lord Benedict may well be accommodating of such behavior, especially once they reached the rural seclusion of The Towers.
He had seemed a kind and decent man, one she had instinctively trusted, despite his obvious height and strength.
And gambling addiction.
She frowned, bringing the horse to a halt beneath the shelter of an oak tree.
Lord Benedict had not presented as a typical gambler, and heaven knew she could identify the signs.
He seemed like a man with a great weight of worry on his shoulders.
But he had spoken of his sister with unmistakable affection, and his country house, too.
She took comfort from that. Besides, could she really hope for better?
After taking tea with a handsome and amiable man, it was easy to forget the extent of her woes. That she was a widow with a blackened reputation. Her cheeks pinkened as she recalled her slip up at the mention of the gardener.
That must never happen again.
But Lord Benedict had not reacted. Therefore, he must not have heard the rumors about her. What had he said, I do not involve myself in Society. Truth be told, Lady Brewood, I prefer to have nothing to do with it.
She shivered. Maybe it would all be okay?
If she married Lord Benedict before her birthday, Edgar could have no further call on her inheritance.
If they moved to the country, he was unlikely to stir himself to find her.
Although sitting on her well-mannered horse beneath an ancient tree in one of the most beautiful parks in London, Marianne had to wonder if her fears were all imagined after all.
Do not let your imagination run away with you.
Victor’s derision would forever ring in her ears. It was one of his favorite responses to her often-valid questions, and she knew now that in many cases, her suspicions had been correct.
Victor had been sullying her reputation with the servants. And worse, with wider society. Those snubs and titters had never been imagined.
She pursed her lips. That was true enough. But it was a different thing to imagine that her brother-in-law had followed her to London with the intention of causing harm.
But this was the same man who she feared had deliberately left toys at the top of the stairs at Medstead Hall, causing Toby to take a nasty tumble. The same man who had tampered with the harness so their carriage horses broke free and left them to plunge into a copse of trees.
Of course, Marianne didn’t believe that Edgar had done these things himself, but she feared he had orchestrated them. And when Toby spoke of a strange man hiding in their former garden, Marianne had wasted no time in gathering their few possessions and departing for London.
But had Edgar—or his henchmen—followed them? Were they in danger, even now, of kidnap or worse?
Speaking soothingly to her horse, she looked about her. In the distance, a groundsman whistled as he pushed a wheelbarrow. But there was no one else about, save the birds singing from the trees.
No sooner had she thought this than galloping hooves sounded upon Rotten Row.
Inexplicably nervous, Marianne reined her horse back so they were more fully hidden by the oak tree.
It was foolish to conjecture a horseman in hot pursuit, the very first time she left Fencham House at such an hour, but her pulse sped up and the horse, sensing her anxiety, began to paw at the ground.
“Steady, boy,” she murmured.
The galloping horse came closer. Marianne could see him now. A large, striking dapple grey with a tall, broad-shouldered man crouched low in the saddle.
Toby had spoken of a man with black eyes, but this man was still too far away for her to discern such detail. With any luck, he would speed straight past the oak tree and never see her.
Alas, luck was not on her side. Her horse was a hunter, accustomed to the thrill of the chase and bored from lack of exercise over the hot summer.
He shied sideways, tossed his head up and down, and plunged out onto Rotten Row, just feet ahead of the dapple grey.
Stifling a curse, Marianne gathered her reins and held on as best she could.
In childhood, she had been a competent horsewoman, but Victor disliked her riding out and she had gotten out of practice and out of shape.
I must not fall, she thought, steeling herself to bring the horse back under control.
The horse behind her picked up speed, sending a rush of terror down her spine. But then she heard the voice urging his mount to slow down, and all her fears fled away.
As soon as the dapple grey slowed, her chestnut also came back under control and soon both horses were merely trotting along Rotten Row.
Marianne sat easily in the saddle and drew back on the reins until her horse reluctantly slowed to a walk, tossing his head to show his disdain for the end of fun.
“Nicely done,” commented the voice that was so familiar.
“Thank you.” She allowed herself to smile at Lord Benedict as he came up beside her. “But I must apologize for causing the fracas. You were enjoying your gallop until my horse decided to join in.”
“Oh, I enjoyed it so much more with you.” He smiled somewhat wickedly, and Marianne felt a jolt of awareness.
He was undeniably a handsome man. A beautiful man, even, if such a term could be applied to such an irrefutably male specimen.
His dark eyelashes curled thickly upward, just like Toby’s.
And his eyes were a chocolate brown that she could easily melt into.
Those chocolate eyes looked into hers for a moment and then quickly darted away.
“I mean, it is nice to have company,” he added sheepishly.
Marianne lowered her face so he could not see her smile. “Do you often ride here in the early mornings?”
“I do.” He nodded emphatically, his top hat slipping forward.
His horse skittered sideways as he tipped it back into place, causing his knee to brush against hers.
Despite the thickness of her riding habit and his leather breeches, she fancied she still felt the human warmth of their connection.
“But I have not seen you in Hyde Park at this hour before.”
“I don’t usually come to Hyde Park at any hour,” she confessed. “But I have enjoyed my ride this morning. I may come again.”
He glanced over at her and she couldn’t help noticing how his tailcoat hung from his powerful shoulders. “Alone?”
She pursed her lips and nodded. “Is there any reason I should not?”
“Most ladies I know prefer to lay in bed in the mornings. And many would choose a carriage over a horseback ride.”
Marianne stiffened, but there was no censure in Benedict’s words, only a light-hearted challenge which she decided to meet.
“I am not like most society ladies, Lord Benedict. It is important you realize that.”
“I am beginning to realize the truth of your words.” He smiled down at her. “Dare I suggest, Lady Brewood, that you are a lady who enjoys adventure?”
If only this conversation had taken place seven years earlier, before Victor Chawton had stolen her joy and flattened her spirit. But Marianne did not turn away as she once might have. Instead, she lifted her chin. “I once was, Lord Benedict. Who knows, maybe I will be again.”
“It will take an adventurous disposition to flourish at The Towers.”
His voice was quiet and he had fixed his gaze directly between his horse’s ears, giving Marianne the opportunity to examine him. There was the worry flickering behind his eyes, the same weight of concern she had identified in him yesterday.
He cares deeply about his grandmother’s old house, she realized.
“I will endeavor to be equal to the challenge,” she answered with equal gravitas.
“Do you know, Lady Brewood, I dare to think you may be more than equal to it. What say you to another gallop, intentional this time? Before the great and good of Society descends on Hyde Park?”
He was smiling and boyishly handsome once again. Marianne felt her heart race with anticipation. A gallop! How long since a man had invited her on such an adventure? Victor would certainly never have done such a thing.