A genuine smile quirked Cynthia's lips.
“Regardless, I shall never do better.” Pandora shrugged. “I ride well but that's a skill, not a true talent, and I've done it all my life. It's simply a matter of practice. The more you ride, the better you become, and perhaps someday--”
“I cannot possibly live that long.” Her tone was dry, but it was apparent her apprehension had abated.
“Well, I shall never live long enough to be able to carry a tune.”
“This is one of your ‘I too have flaws' speeches, isn't it?”
“Of course.” Pandora grinned. “But you've made it through two previous Rides, and you'll survive this one as well. Don't forget you can forgo any section you wish.”
“The beginning, the middle, and the end sound like an excellent idea,” Cynthia murmured.
Pandora laughed. Cynthia knew full well any rider with the slightest concern could choose to omit that particular series of obstacles.
The first team received the signal to start and surged forward in a wave of excited shouts and laughter. The start was staggered, in the interest of safety, and each team cleared one course and moved onto the next before a new group began. Pandora and Cynthia watched the first set of competitors, exchanging observations about the form of this rider or the best approach to that obstacle. In a mere thirty minutes or so it was their turn.
Pandora gave Cynthia a few last words of encouragement and they were off. The first course was always the easiest, with the lowest jumps and least difficult obstacles and even Cynthia had no problem.
But the Ride grew more difficult as it progressed.
The morning flew by in a blur of fleet-footed horses racing over the countryside, jumping hedges and walls and temporary fences as if they were heirs to Pegasus himself. Midway through the Ride there'd been no major mishaps, simply a great deal of sheer fun. Even Cynthia had relaxed enough to enjoy herself.
Every now and then, Pandora would catch a glimpse of Max in the team behind hers. He rode as well as he did everything else. Of course, she would have been surprised if he hadn't. The blasted man probably was in truth a hero reborn. Although he needn't be so clever. He was halfway to victory. How would he try to twist his words the next time to claim a point? And how could she stop him?
As always, the competition between teams, while good-natured, was fierce, even though the winners received only token prizes: flowers and ribbons and two pounds each that were traditionally passed on to the stable boys and grooms. The Ride culminated in a grand picnic on the banks of the lake.
They approached the fifth course and Cynthia reined in her horse. “I know this is only as far as I made it last year, and I did so want to go on but,” she nodded at the complex arrangement of natural obstacles and those placed by man, “this is somewhat beyond my ability.”
Pandora knew better than to encourage anyone with the slightest doubts to continue. Success when it came to a competition like this had as much to do with the bond of trust between horse and rider as it did with the skills of either.
“You're certainly not alone.” Fully half of the ladies on their team, and a few of the men, had already conceded defeat and now rode alongside the course observing those who continued. “You may not have gone farther than in the past but you seemed quite at ease this year. A little more time in the hands of my family and we will indeed make an excellent rider out of you yet.”
Cynthia laughed. “There is not enough time in the world. I'll make you a bargain, Pandora.”
Pandora raised a brow. “I'm not sure I need another bargain.”
“I shall play my music and you will applaud for me. And you shall ride your horses and I will cheer your victory.”
Pandora laughed. “Agreed.”
Cynthia joined the other observers and Pandora caught up with her team.
By the time they reached the final course, Pandora had to admit even she was finding the Ride a bit more challenging than in the past. No doubt her skills were not as sharp as they once were. The sedate riding she was limited to in town did not serve to hone her abilities. Still, she had no doubt she would finish and took the fast jumps and quick, narrow turns laid out with an ease that restored her confidence. She joined the rest of her team to await the finish of their slower members with a delightful sense of satisfaction she hadn't really known since her game with Max began and accepted their compliments with a gracious smile.
The lake lay just past the last course. Tents offered welcome shade, tables were laid with food, and as always, she was surprised by just how hungry the Ride left her. Those who had completed the final course had already turned their horses over to stable boys and descended on the mid-afternoon feast as if they'd never seen food before. Pandora could scarcely wait to join them.
A cry sounded off to one side. She twisted in the saddle.
Those who had withdrawn from the competition battled to control their mounts. A rabbit darted under the cover of a low bush and she knew at once what had startled the animals. Confusion reigned amid the chaos of frantic beasts and distraught riders, and it was difficult to separate one figure from another. One horse reared, another took off across the course, a streak of gray.
Her heart lodged in her throat.
Cynthia!
Pandora struggled to break her horse free from the knot of milling riders and horses trapping her in their midst, but escape was impossible. There was scarcely room to turn, her every move blocked.
“Look! They'll catch her!” a gentleman to her left shouted.
Pandora's gaze shot to Cynthia's pale figure clinging to the horse, two riders from another team in hot pursuit, one slightly in front of the other.
Max? And Bolton?
Both men rode animals far superior in quality to Cynthia's gray mare, but her mount had a speed born of fear. The panicked creature headed straight for a wall. Pandora gasped and her fists clenched in terror. The beast dodged the obstacle and she couldn't believe Cynthia managed to hang on. Max was within a hair's breadth of her, Lord Bolton barely a stride or two behind. It took no more than a handful of seconds, but it was as though the scene before her slowed to the pace of a dream.
Max reached out to catch the reins flying unfettered behind the animal's neck but the leather strips eluded his grasp as if they had a life all their own.
“Come on, Max,” Pandora said in a tense murmur and leaned forward in her saddle, urging him on through sheer power of will and prayer alone. She'd never felt so helpless.
Max fumbled for the reins. Lord Bolton gained ground. Good God, one false step, one stumble, and all three horses would fall in a tangled heap, taking their riders with them. She held her breath.
The next moment, Max had the reins in his hand and pulled the horse to a halt. A murmur of admiration swept through the crowd. Pandora heaved a sigh of relief.
Max slipped off his saddle and reached to help Cynthia dismount. Even from here she appeared overly pale and completely done in. He wrapped his arm around her waist, handed his reins and hers to Bolton, then started toward the tents and tables set up around the lake. A moment later, he scooped her into his arms and carried her.
“My word.” Aunt Abigail trotted up on her right. “The earl certainly does have a fine hand with”--she emphasized the word--“cattle.”
No doubt, there was no other choice. Cynthia looked as though she was about to collapse.
Aunt Georgina rode up on her left. “Indeed he does. Quite impressive, the way he managed to,” she paused for emphasis, “capture that cattle.”
Certainly that would be the only reason for him to take her in his arms.
“Pandora, are you listening to us?”
“Of course,” she murmured, and glanced from one aunt to the other. They bore no physical resemblance to each other, yet wore the identical smug smile. Pandora drew her brows together. “What did you say?”
“Oh, we simply think the earl is quite heroic,” Georgina said lightly.
“In
deed.” Abigail nodded. “Almost legendary. Why, he very much reminds me of--oh, Hercules comes to my mind.”
“Mine too.” Georgina's eyes widened. “Especially the way he captured the cattle.”
“Captured the cattle?” Pandora said slowly. She glanced at her aunts' matching grins and at once understood their meaning. “Absolutely not.” She shook her head firmly. “This is far and away too weak to count as a point.”
“Nonsense.” Georgina smirked. “Of course it counts.”
“Without a doubt.” Abigail's voice was smug. “And I'm sure the duchess will agree.”
“And the dowager,” Georgina added.
“Well, I don't,” Pandora snapped.
“Nonetheless,” Georgina's hand fluttered in a dismissive wave. “That's point number seven.”
“Am I the only one not willing to surrender my future to Trent without a second thought?” Pandora glared at one aunt, then the next. “Does he have the support of all the women in this family?”
The older women traded glances. “All except your mother.”
“She's neutral, I believe.”
Pandora snorted in disbelief, the image of a Greek cup flashing through her mind. “Hardly.”
“Well,” Georgina shook her head, “she has not laid so much as a penny on it.”
Abigail nodded. “That certainly seems neutral to me.”
“Not to me,” Pandora muttered, vowing to herself to have a long chat with her mother at the first possibility.
“Come along now, Pandora, I'm famished.” Abigail turned her horse toward the lake.
“As am I. Besides, we do need to make certain Lord Trent realizes he has achieved another point.” Georgina's eyes twinkled with delight and she reined her mount to follow her sister-in-law. “Just in case he hasn't noticed.”
Pandora glanced at Max carrying Cynthia and narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I suspect he's noticed all manner of things.”
She started after her aunts, keeping watch on Max out of the corner of her eye--not that there was anything to watch, of course. He was simply being a gentleman. A hero. His actions regarding Cynthia didn't bother her at all because they meant absolutely nothing.
Still, it was worthwhile to note, Max's seventh point was not nearly as disturbing as the sight of Cynthia in his arms.
“I say, Max, put her down. Or let me carry her.” Laurie's voice behind Max rang with annoyance. “You can lead the blasted horses and I'll take Miss Weatherly.”
“I do appreciate the offer.” Max didn't break his stride. “But I'm doing fine, thank you.”
“I really can walk, my lord,” Miss Weatherly said with an exasperated sigh.
“I am sorry, Miss Weatherly, I would be remiss in my duty if I allowed you to walk. You could barely stand after your ordeal.”
“Perhaps, but I'm much recovered now.” She glared at him. “You and I both know the real reason why you refuse to put me down.”
Max held his tongue, refusing to confirm or deny her charge.
“I wouldn't at all mind carrying her,” Laurie called.
“Do you see her over there? Staring at us.” Cynthia groaned. “You do know what she's thinking, don't you?”
“Why, Miss Weatherly, I have no idea what you're getting at.”
“Why, Lord Trent,” she mimicked, “I don't believe you for a moment.”
He grinned.
“And I must confess, I don't understand.” Miss Weatherly's brow furrowed. “Why do you want to encourage jealousy on Pandora's part?”
“It's not that I particularly wish to encourage it, simply take advantage of it. Think about it for a moment, Miss Weatherly, what triggers jealousy?”
“I imagine a sight like this might trigger jealousy,” she snapped. “Your closest friend, wrapped in the arms of the man…” She paused and her eyes widened with realization. “Oh, I see. Jealousy, then, would be a good sign.”
“A very good sign.”
“Actually,” Laurie's voice rose with annoyance, “I should rather enjoy carrying her.”
A private smile lit Miss Weatherly's face. “My Lord, do you think there is even a hint of jealousy in his tone?”
So that was the way of it. He'd suspected as much. “I think there is much more than a hint.”
Her smile grew. “What an interesting sign.”
Max laughed and continued his trek toward the lake. It hadn't seemed so far at the beginning, but he had to admit, while not overly heavy, Miss Weatherly was becoming something of a burden. He wouldn't mind handing her over to Laurie one bit. Although that would do none of them any real good. No, far better to risk serious physical injury than pass up this opportunity to fuel Pandora's jealousy.
Of course, he could be completely wrong. The idea took him by surprise. Pandora's reactions could well have more to do with her position as the center of attention than any feeling she might have for him.
Exactly how far would he have to go to find out?
Chapter 17
An Unfair Advantage
“You really have managed to tame them, haven't you?” Pandora said, nodding at the Effington ladies.
Most of those still lingering after the Ride sampled the mouth-watering myriad of delights spread on the long cloth-covered tables. Others engaged in animated analysis of the competition. And a fair number, including Pandora and Max, strolled along the pathway that encircled the lake.
“I have to confess, it did not take a great deal of effort.” Max chuckled.
“I'm so glad to know you were not overly fatigued by the ordeal,” she said wryly.
He laughed. “Not at all. But I will admit when I walked into the drawing room and discovered your aunts and your mother one step behind, I did wonder if I'd met my fate.”
“Apparently they are all more than willing to help me meet mine,” she muttered and glanced toward the picnic area. Her aunts and her mother had migrated together, and given the surreptitious looks cast in her direction, Pandora was certain she and Max were the main topic of conversation.
“I should have known it was no mere coincidence that saw two of my aunts on my team and the duchess and my mother on yours. What better way to keep an eye on us both and twist your most insignificant action into a point?”
He tried to hold back a grin and failed.
“I suspected as much,” she said grimly. “They have not only given you their blessing, but they are now actively lending their assistance. Capturing cattle.” She scoffed. “Will they be flushing a boar from the woods for you, too?”
“One can only hope,” he murmured with a wicked twinkle in his eye.
“It's not fair, you know, to receive so much help from those outside of the game.”
“I disagree. Everything is fair. And I did warn you I intended to take every advantage offered me. If that includes the assistance of your family, well, it would be impolite to refuse.”
“I'm certain they'd forgive you.”
“Perhaps, but it's a chance I'm not willing to take. However,” he paused, “in the interest of fairness, I will grant you this: you too may accept help wherever you may find it.”
“How very gracious of you.”
He could well afford to be gracious. He had the entire female contingent of her family behind him. She might as well have her calling cards engraved with Max's crest and The Countess of Trent right now and save herself the trouble later.
She sighed. “At any rate, I gather you liked them.”
“There was nothing to dislike. But I was under the impression all that mattered was whether they liked me.”
“I believe we have ascertained that.”
“They are one and all quite charming and rather clever. They remind me very much of you.”
“Do they?”
“Except they are not opposed to my marrying you,” he said pointedly.
“They do not know you as I do,” she said primly.
“I rather thought I improved upon further acquaintance. The more one k
nows me, the more one loves me.”
“Love?” She tried to laugh, but it came out as an awkward strangled sound. “I don't believe love was part of our bargain.”
“Should it be?”
“I really haven't given it much thought,” she lied. How odd. She was willing to admit to Bolton she wouldn't marry without love, yet she could barely utter the word in Max's presence.
A goose waddled across the path in front of them.
“Should we think about it?”
“To what end?” She held her breath.
His brow furrowed and he appeared deep in thought. Finally he released a long sigh. “I have no idea.”
Her heart fell. Still, what did she expect? A fervent declaration of his affections? A pronouncement of undying devotion? Given the tasks she'd set before him, she could scarcely blame him if he detested her. Still, she hadn't managed to dissuade him thus far and he did continue the game with a fair amount of enthusiasm. For whatever reason, he remained intent upon marrying her. And he did appear to enjoy her company.
Unless, of course, he simply wanted to win and the prize itself no longer mattered.
“When we first met, you said you did not want a husband. Why are you so determined to avoid marriage?”
“I see nothing wrong with marriage when entered into willingly and with…affection by both parties.”
“And will that be the case with us when I win?”
“If you win.”
“When I win.”
“I agreed to the terms of our bargain.”
“That takes care of the question of willingness. What of affection?”
Affection? Like that seen on the faces of elderly ladies when gazing at their pug dogs? Or were they back to love? Unending, eternal, and forever?
For a moment she wanted to confess her feelings--abandon caution and throw herself headlong into the terrifying bliss that was apparently love. Is that what he wished to hear? Why? Because he too was caught in this dire illness? Or did he simply want the victory of having won her heart while he continued his effort to win her hand? Fear and pride held her in check.
The Wedding Bargain Page 19
