That was an odd sort of compliment. If it was a compliment.
“I hit my head,” I admitted. “Quite badly. And my leg was broken. I—Well, I shall only say that I have never seen my mother so pale as when she saw me that day.” My leg had broken at the thigh, below a long gash where I’d hit the broken wooden fence post. Blood had coated my head and neck and soaked into my habit.
They’d thought me dead when they found me.
“But you’ve recovered,” he said. “Fully recovered?”
“Yes.” My voice caught in my throat like a sewing pin. “Though it was not easy, by any means.” It had been something of a miracle that I hadn’t been left with a limp or any worse consequences.
Even with the clamor of repressed memories inside me, it felt oddly . . . freeing to talk about that day. William and I rarely discussed my accident, much like we avoided talking of Papa. I’d never mentioned it to Edward, though our whirlwind courtship was reason enough for that. We simply hadn’t had time. Although, truthfully, how did one broach such a subject with one’s intended? It was in the past. It hardly mattered.
But now. Lieutenant Avery made it easy—too easy—to talk.
I turned the topic to him. “What of you? How were you injured? And do not think of my feminine sensibilities. One benefit of my accident is that I am now rather unaffected by tales of gore and blood.”
“Thankfully, such detail is hardly necessary in my story.” He leaned back in his saddle. “It is not so uncommon, what happened. A French cannon blasted a broadside into my ship. I caught a shard of wood here”—he motioned to his neck again—“and in my shoulder. I survived with a fool’s luck.” He paused, gripping his reins tighter. “Six men died that day.”
During my two Seasons in London, I’d met several army officers, men who had captivated London’s ballrooms with their heroic tales. Swaggering in their regimentals, they had caused quite a stir among the young ladies, who had fluttered their fans and praised their bravery. I thought myself rather familiar with stories of battles and loss, considering the war against Napoleon had raged for most of my life, but never had I heard the understated sorrow that touched Lieutenant Avery’s voice in those few words. Six men died that day.
“Were they your friends?” I managed to ask.
“One was.” His voice was stiff. “He served as second lieutenant. He left behind a wife and child.”
I pressed my lips together. I did not know how to offer my condolences without sounding empty and insincere. And I did not think he’d shared with me to gain my sympathy. “You’ve suffered a great deal of loss,” I said instead, softly. I could not imagine a life aboard a navy ship, trapped with the same crew for months on end, with disease and storms and the threat of battle as constant companions.
He gave a nod. “I’ve always known the risk, as does every man who steps aboard. That is the way with life at sea.”
“And you wish to return? To the navy?” I did not mean to sound as incredulous as I did, but I could not help it. Why would he want to abandon a comfortable life in the country, where he had a home and family and fortune, to spend months at a time in the middle of the ocean?
He dismounted abruptly and stepped to his horse’s reins. Had I offended him? I followed his actions, sliding my feet to the grass beside Stella and moving to take her reins. I opened my mouth to apologize, though not entirely sure why, but then he spoke.
“When your horse took that jump and you fell,” he said, his focus on a distant point, “was there ever a point where you decided never to ride again?”
I paused. “No. I never for a moment thought I would give it up.”
“Why is that?”
I set one hand on Stella’s neck. “I could no sooner give up my arm or leg. Riding is too much a part of who I am.”
He nodded. “It is the same with the navy for me. The sea is all I have ever known. Yes, my life has risks and sorrows, like anyone’s, but if you could see the ocean on a cloudless day or feel the gusts of an oncoming storm . . .” He paused as if he could see it before him. “The moments of beauty make every difficulty worthwhile and every hardship bearable.”
I stared at him. I stared because I could not reconcile his words with the man who stood before me. He was a navy officer. He was strict and unyielding, self-assured and principled. I thought I’d known who he was from the moment we’d met, but clearly I had only glimpsed the surface of his character.
He turned and caught me staring. He offered a slight smile, and I fought the urge to look away. Why shouldn’t I be allowed to look at him?
“I am boring you, aren’t I?” he asked. “I’m afraid I could talk about the navy far longer than most people can tolerate.”
“No,” I said, surprised that I meant it. “I am not bored at all.”
His grin faded, and his eyes wandered my face, examining me as if I were an artifact unearthed from a time long past. We were not standing particularly close, but with his gaze so fixed on me, a whisper of heat kindled inside my chest—a heat that felt both familiar and foreign. Edward had always inspired warmth and giddiness. But this. This was something different.
I turned away, my ears warm like when I spent too long in the sun without a bonnet. Tugging Stella’s reins, I stepped forward. “Let us see what William has found.”
Lieutenant Avery did not speak as he followed me through the low grass. William still stood at the hedge, but I barely registered him, too aware of what had just transpired. I had not been engaged for long, but I was certain that men besides my betrothed were not supposed to make me feel this smolder in my chest.
William frowned as we approached. “I’ll not deny I was hoping the ground would be wetter, but nothing in my examination has given me reason to deny you your prize, Rebecca.”
My ears were still filled with a strange humming, and I forced myself to focus on his words. “Yes. Well. Did you check the other side of the hedge?”
“Of course I did.”
I nodded, chewing on the inside of my cheek. When I had blurted out my desired prize, my old fears had been reawakened. And my conversation with Lieutenant Avery had only made them worse. An edginess pervaded my entire body. What if I fell again?
“Are you not wanting to go through with it?” Now William’s voice held a hint of concern as he rested his hands on his waist.
“No, it’s not that,” I said. “I—I simply sensed some hesitation in Stella earlier and worry about pushing her.”
Lieutenant Avery was scrutinizing me. How could I feel it when he stood behind me? “Of course you must not attempt it if you are not feeling equal to the task,” he said evenly.
I stiffened. I should not have told him about my injury. Now he would join ranks with William and Mama, worrying over me when there was absolutely no reason. It had been an accident. Neither I nor my horse had done anything wrong. It might have happened to anyone.
“I am quite equal to the task, though I thank you for your concern.” I did not look at Lieutenant Avery as I led Stella to a large rock nearby and pulled myself swiftly into the saddle.
“Be careful, Rebecca,” William called.
Be careful. Of course he would say that to me, his reckless, silly little sister who couldn’t keep her seat on a horse.
But I hadn’t been reckless or silly when I’d had my accident, and I wasn’t now. I knew my limits, my abilities. He hadn’t any idea the person I’d become in the years he had spent abroad. He saw the child that I was to him.
I trotted Stella back a ways, giving us room to gain enough speed for the jump. My hands clenched the reins as I brought her around again and focused on the route to the hedge. A clear path through the grass, no hidden dips or boulders. William and Lieutenant Avery backed away from the hedge, both mounted again and watching me.
Why had I thought it a good idea to have an audience?
I inhaled a breath, the warm air a sharp contrast to the cold determination inside me. Then I kicked Stella’s sides, and she leaped forward.
For the second time today, I bent over her neck, floating above her back as she galloped toward the hedge. Nothing about Stella hesitated; she threw herself fully into every action, invested in every moment. We raced through the grass, and as we approached the hedge, she sped up even more, eager for the challenge.
We passed William and Lieutenant Avery in a flash, and then we were there. My stomach took a sickening lurch. What if—?
But there was no time to change my mind. Stella gathered on her hind legs and leaped.
I acted on instinct, years of practice and training coming to a head in an instant. I kept my weight on my heels, my legs strong and still, my hands light on the reins. We soared together over the hedge, Stella’s legs brushing the topmost leaves.
Then she landed, all four hooves solid on the earth as she bounded forward again. The jolt of the impact ricocheted through me, reassuring me that I was still seated, that I was not lying broken on the ground. As confident as I’d been in Stella, I’d been much less confident in myself.
I let her run a few moments longer to celebrate our victory. I had forgotten how ridiculously wonderful it felt to take such a jump. How had I gone for so long without this coursing elation?
I turned Stella back in time to watch William and the lieutenant follow after me. William and his horse jumped, landing smoothly and effortlessly, as they always did. Lieutenant Avery jumped a few seconds later, and I wished I could find something to criticize in his seat or skill. How could a man who spent his life at sea be so comfortable on horseback?
As they rode to join me, I leaned forward to stroke Stella’s neck. “Good girl,” I whispered. “Good girl.” She was the reason I’d been able to do it, her spirit and confidence and drive. I did not know if the fear would ever entirely leave me, but I knew it would be easier the next time and the next.
“Well done, Rebecca,” William said as the two men reached me. The pride in his voice tugged at my heart.
I accepted his compliment with a nod and then faced Lieutenant Avery. “Do you still think me unequal to the task, Lieutenant?” I’d meant it as a teasing question, but I never did have great control over my emotions. My words emerged short and standoffish instead of light and easy.
I’d thought he might look a bit guarded, like he normally did, or perhaps affronted since he’d spoken only out of concern for me. But instead, he looked . . . satisfied?
“I never thought you unequal,” he said. “But you did.”
If a fly had been unlucky enough to buzz by at that moment, it would have flown right into my open mouth.
He had tricked me. He’d goaded me into jumping.
Although, was goaded the right word for it? He had said nothing unkind. He’d simply sensed my hesitation—though I hoped he did not realize my hesitation had been caused by him—and pushed me through it.
I should not have spoken to him like I had about my accident. I’d allowed him to pry into my past and learn more about me than even my good friends knew. Even more than Edward knew, the man I meant to marry. My insides squirmed as if I’d swallowed a spoonful of ants.
Tension crouched between the lieutenant and me. William squinted at the two of us, then cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, have you had opportunity to meet much of Millbury’s society? Though I dare to suggest you’ve already met the best of us.”
Lieutenant Avery gave a wry smile. “I would not disagree with that assessment. And I cannot profess a great eagerness to venture outside Linwood’s estate. I had the . . . pleasure of meeting Mrs. Follett and her daughter in town a few days ago.”
“Ah,” William said. “Quite understandable. But surely you will be attending the assembly this week? You cannot deny Millbury’s matrons their chance to ensnare you for their daughters.”
“You certainly make it sound appealing,” Lieutenant Avery said with a shake of his head. “I hadn’t planned on attending, but as I was compelled to ask Miss Follett for the first set, I will indeed be making an appearance.”
I covered my laugh with a quick cough. I pitied any man forced to dance with Miss Follett.
Lieutenant Avery’s amused eyes found mine. “But perhaps I might look forward to the evening more if Miss Rowley also favored me with a set.”
My sudden joviality fled. Dance with the lieutenant?
“I—” I wavered, but what could I do but agree? “I should be glad to.” My words did not sound particularly convincing, but, then, I hadn’t tried particularly hard.
Perhaps I might be conveniently ill the night of the assembly.
In fact, it was never too soon to start acting the part. I touched the side of my head. “I’m afraid I feel a headache coming. I ought to return to the house.”
“A headache?” William repeated.
“Yes,” I said stubbornly. “Please do not feel you must cut short your ride for my sake. I can see myself back.” We were not far from the house, thankfully.
“If you are sure.” He did not believe me, but I did not care.
I nodded, then offered a glance at Lieutenant Avery. “Good day, Lieutenant.”
I turned Stella and urged her into a trot, but I still heard his voice over the hoofbeats. “Good day, Miss Rowley.”
He spoke with steadiness, as if my sudden rudeness had not affected him in the least. Which affected me all the more.
I made a full retreat, kicking Stella into a gallop. I had not anticipated this problem. All I wanted was to convince my family of Edward’s worthiness, and now I’d attracted the attention of another man entirely.
I tried to calm myself as Stella’s hooves thundered beneath me. I could be wrong. I hardly knew the man, after all. Perhaps he simply found me amusing. It would be rather big-headed of me to assume him interested, especially since I’d been less than polished during most of our meetings.
But if he somehow had formed an attachment to me in such a short amount of time . . .
A memory of Edward’s face flowed across my mind as smoothly as we’d danced together at our last ball. His whispered words of love, of hope, and his handsome smile soothed my uncertain heart.
But my memory did nothing to solve my problem. What if Lieutenant Avery attempted to pursue me? Court me? That would make life difficult indeed.
I would have to find a way to deter Lieutenant Avery.
And soon.
Chapter Seven
“Are you ready, Rebecca?” Mama knocked on my door as she opened it, peeking her head inside. She looked lovely, as always, her dark hair perfectly curled and adorned with a white silk bandeau.
“Nearly,” I said, though Fawcett still fussing with my own hair was answer enough. “Fawcett clearly thinks I am to meet the king tonight.”
My lady’s maid glared at me in the vanity mirror. “I hope the king does make an appearance at the assembly just so you feel terrible about teasing me so.”
Mama came to stand beside me. “The king at the Millbury Assembly Rooms. That would cause a stir indeed.” She inclined her head. “You’ve done a lovely job, Fawcett. It almost looks as though she doesn’t spend most of her days covered in mud, with leaves caught in her hair.”
Now it was my turn to glare as the two of them giggled. “The one time!” I exclaimed.
“If you say so,” Mama said with a pat on my shoulder.
Fawcett focused again on my hair, tucking a pearl-studded comb among my curled tresses. She truly had done a lovely job. She must have picked up a trick or two from Marjorie’s maid while we were in Brighton.
Brighton. How I wished I were preparing for a ball in that glittering seaside town rather than this tiny country village. Not that I minded Millbury’s smaller gatherings. But a letter had arrived earlier that day from Edward, rec
ounting a dinner party he’d attended the night before, which had included Marjorie and a great many of the friends and acquaintances I’d made during my visit there. I missed Edward so much, his charm and wit, his gallantry and laughter. Why should Brighton’s society be so lucky as to keep his company this long?
My fingers fiddled restlessly with a perfume bottle on my vanity. The days passed even more slowly than I’d anticipated when Edward and I had made our last goodbyes. Everything had turned out to be so complicated. Even with William’s small admissions a few days before, I’d made little progress in my task of untangling the issue between our families, and the loneliness of the venture made it that much more difficult. If only Edward could write more often and encourage me. Except Mama would grow suspicious if Marjorie wrote me daily. But a letter every few days from Edward wasn’t enough. I wanted him here beside me.
And not just because I missed him. That much I could admit. If he were here, if we could announce our engagement, then the other half of my troubles would be gone—Lieutenant Avery.
“There you are, miss.” Fawcett stepped back with a pleased expression. “Proper enough even for royalty, I have no doubt.”
I tore my attention away from the plunging spiral of my thoughts. There was no use feeding such despondency. I had a ball to attend tonight, and I might as well enjoy it.
“Thank you, Fawcett.” I turned my head so the shimmering pearls caught the candlelight, my hair shining more gold than brown tonight. I’d chosen to wear my blossom-pink ball gown trimmed in beaded embroidery around the low neckline. The beautiful elegance of the dress had always given me confidence. I’d last worn it the night Edward had proposed, and donning it again tonight brought back the lovely memory, the warmth of the night surrounding us in the garden, his sweet kiss.
This was what I needed to focus on, I decided as Fawcett left the room and I stood to fetch my shawl: Edward and our plan. Once this evening was over and I had sorted out the problem of Lieutenant Avery, that was.
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