"Christobel, you can't ride Joy." She lifted her hand when Elaine started to speak. "She is unschooled — I'm not riding her myself. She's just not ready."
Of course Elaine knew why Christobel wanted to ride Joy. She had heard that the duke was interested in buying the horse, and wanted to use Joy to win the duke's attention.
"You're not riding her?"
"No," Elaine said. "She is much too young. A hard run today would ruin her, and besides, I'm schooling her for a town hack, not for a hunter."
"Then sell me the mare."
"No, Joy isn't for sale, not at any price. Now, if you don't want Midnight, I'll let you have one of my own hunters, Indigo Lane. He's lovely, and will carry you capably through most of the day."
Indigo Lane had already been tacked up. Elaine had intended to ride him herself. She knew that the horse would appeal to Christobel. He was a large and flashy chestnut gelding. For all his good looks, the horse was sensible, and would ensure that Christobel had a couple of good runs.
"Mind, you —" Elaine compressed her lips. She had been about to say that Christobel wasn't to take any big fences. She realized that that would be the worst thing she could say.
Christobel wasn't a hard rider. She wouldn't jump Indigo, left to herself, but if Elaine mentioned that she shouldn't do it, she would do exactly that to spite her. Not that Elaine would mind if Christobel was dumped into a ditch, but she didn't want Indigo injured.
By the time Elaine had seen to Christobel and Indigo, and had tacked up Sally, a home-bred grey mare for herself, the hunt had left. So had Bendish and all the grooms. She didn't trust any of the stable lads with Sally, who had an uncertain temper, so she had to do it herself.
Elaine didn't catch up with the main body of the hunt for an hour. With daily rations of oats energizing her, and minimal exercise, Sally decided that she'd make life as difficult as she could for her rider. She shied at every blowing leaf, and twice tried to bolt.
When she Elaine did catch up with the hunt, she surveyed the thirty riders, all male, but the duke and his party weren't among them, neither was Christobel.
The colonel's hounds were drawing a covert. Then they found, and the hunt was off.
Jumping horses while riding side-saddle was challenging, and most ladies avoided it, but Elaine decided that Sally needed the work. She rode her at every fence in their way.
After several long gallops across fields, and through woods, the hounds lost the scent. Elaine was exhilarated. She and Sally were both splashed with mud. Sally was exhausted, and long past misbehavior.
After chatting with some of the other riders, she was about to leave to find Cormac and her personal groom, who were waiting with another mount for her, when a groom from The Oaks told her that there had been an accident. One of the Gostwicke Hall grooms had taken a tumble and had broken his arm.
"He's looking white and sorry for himself ma'am. Someone's with him, and we sent for a carriage."
The groom was leading a spare horse. She dismounted, and he switched her side saddle to the fresh horse.
"I'll find the man — you can take Sally home," she told the groom. "Cormac's waiting at Farnely Hill. That's the next draw. Tell him that I'm taking the injured man back to Gostwicke Hall."
He helped her to mount. Ten minutes later, she found Pitney sitting on a log, cradling his arm, with another groom holding two horses.
She slid down from her mount.The Pitneys were tenants on the estate. She'd known Pitney all her life, he was only 14. "Sorry ma'am," he said.
"Mr. Bendish cut his sleeve ma'am," the other groom said. "Looks a clean break. He bound up the arm in a sling."
Elaine examined Pitney's arm, and was relieved that it did appear a clean break. While the injury was painful, Pitney wouldn't lose his arm. The doctor was waiting at the Hall. There would be more than one injury today. The boys were telling her about the accident when Elaine looked up to see riders in the distance.
"It's his grace — Sommerforth, ma'am," Pitney said.
Sommerforth and Worley rode up to them, accompanied by grooms.
The duke bowed to her from the saddle, and dismounted at once. "Miss Eardley, a pleasure."
She smiled, and wondered at herself. Her heart had jumped in her chest as soon as she recognized the duke. "Your grace, Lord Worley."
"What's happened?" Worley dismounted too, and bowed over Elaine's hand.
"A break, my lord," Pitney said proudly.
While Worley spoke with the boys, Sommerforth kept his grey-eyed gaze on Elaine.
"Thank you for Lilly," she said. "She's the best Christmas gift I received."
To Elaine's surprise, Sommerforth and Worley stayed with them, and when the carriage arrived to take Pitney back to the Hall, the two men rode alongside the carriage with her.
That touched her. She found herself glancing at the duke, and admiring his profile. He smiled when he caught her looking at him, and she blushed.
It wasn't until Lord Worley caught her staring at the duke that she realized what she was doing. What was the matter with her? She frowned. She liked the duke, but he was a duke.
She recalled what Catherine had said about the duke singling her out, and decided to ride ahead to the hall. She nodded to Worley and the duke, and nudged her horse into a canter.
No matter how much she liked Sommerforth, she had to remember who he was, and that courting his attention was dangerous.
"What's Sommerforth doing here?" Sir Oliver asked Anne rudely when she and Elaine greeted guests at the start of the Hunt Ball.
"Sir Oliver," Anne said coolly. "What a pleasure. Thank you so much for coming — and Felicity, you look charming."
Elaine nodded at Sir Oliver and kissed Felicity's cheek, then turned to greet another guest. She knew that Sommerforth and Sir Oliver were not friends. There had been some gossip, and talk of a duel. She'd have to ask Catherine what she knew. Catherine always knew everything about everyone.
"Keep Sir Oliver away from Sommerforth if you can," Anne whispered to Elaine a moment later. "What a nuisance that we shall have to see so much of Sir Oliver because you and Felicity are friends. I do not approve of that man."
The duke and his party had arrived some minutes earlier. He'd asked Elaine for two dances, and she'd been happy to agree. Lord Worley had also claimed two dances.
To Elaine's amusement, she saw that Christobel intended to monopolize the duke. She'd seen the duke writing on Christobel's dance card, and when she came back from speaking to Mr. Morley about bringing up more wine from the cellar, she saw Christobel dancing with him.
Talverne was standing at the side of the ball room with his arms folded, looking pleased with himself. Elaine knew that he'd had a good day's hunting. She, accompanied by the duke and Worley, had joined Talverne when they were drawing a covet. They'd quickly found, and had had a very good run.
"A wonderful day," he said to her. "It would be even more wonderful if Christobel decides that she'll toss me over and set her cap at the duke."
Elaine laughed. "You may joke about it, but I don't think you would be too pleased if it happened."
"Believe me, I would be very pleased." Then his expression changed and darkened. Elaine realized that he was looking at someone behind her. "Sir Oliver," Talverne's tone was cool.
"Miss Eardley, Talverne. I believe the next dance is mine, Miss Eardley."
"You'll have to excuse me Sir Oliver," Elaine said quickly. "I need to see about supper. I know you won't mind."
She nodded to him, and left, without giving him a chance to respond. She had no intention of dancing with Sir Oliver — he had been drinking, and Felicity was at the ball.
Mrs. Eardley had readily agreed to have Felicity join them in town. Felicity however had looked uncertain, until Elaine told her that Sir Oliver knew about the invitation. Then she happily agreed. Now all Elaine had to do was find some money, so that she could pay for Felicity's gowns.
"About Joy," the duke said to Elaine whe
n he claimed her for his first dance, a waltz.
She grinned at him. "So that's why you've asked for two dances, so that you might badger me about my horse. I might have known."
He laughed, and his arms closed around her. He smelled delicious. She inhaled cedarwood, bergamot, and orange. And he was an excellent dancer. Elaine considered that she danced well — she'd had enough dance classes — but dancing with the duke was exceptional.
"How is Mr. Pitney?"
"He's well. Unhappy that the stable master has banned him from the stables, however."
"Your people think a great deal of you."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"They speak well of you… but I asked about Fred. No one knew where he was. Or even who…"
What? Elaine felt heat engulf her face. Fred. She hardly dared to look up at the duke. He'd sounded amused. Desperately she cast about for something to say. She was horrible at lying. He'd see prevarication in her at once.
"Mr. Bendish told me that Fred had gone home for Christmas."
"Yes. Yes, of course." When she looked up at him from underneath her lashes, she saw that his lips were compressed, but his eyes sparkled. Drat him, he was trying not to laugh. He knew.
Dizziness engulfed her for a moment, and it wasn't due to the waltz. She quickly asked him about one of his horses.
He made no more mention of Fred, and Elaine was relieved when the dance ended.
"What's the matter? Did Sommerforth say something to you?" Anne asked, taking her arm and guiding her into an alcove where they wouldn't be overheard. "You looked shocked for a moment. Your face became as red as your hair."
"No, no, the duke was all politeness," Elaine reassured her. "It's almost time for supper. I'll go and check with Mary…" How could the duke know about Fred?
Elaine decided that she would avoid the duke — she wouldn't dance with him again. That made two men she needed to avoid: Sir Oliver, and the duke.
The duke was easy to avoid. After supper, she sent a footman with her apologies, to tell him that she'd been called to the stables.
Sir Oliver was more persistent. He was waiting for her outside her rooms when she went upstairs to check on Lilly.
"There you are," he said. He lounged against the wall opposite her door.
She glanced at him, and for a moment, felt a frisson of fear. He shouldn't be in this part of the house, so far from the public rooms. A single lamp burned in the long corridor.
He was engulfed in brandy fumes and quite cast away, she decided, staring at him. She swallowed hard.
She slammed the door behind her impatiently. Where was Cormac when she needed him? "Sir Oliver," she said briefly, then made to hurry away.
His arm snaked out. "Wait."
She glared at his hand on her arm. "What do you want? You should not be here — release me at once."
"You're looking high, Elaine. Very high." He pulled her towards him, and chuckled. "A duke? And Sommerforth of all people. I could tell you stories about him… He's quite above your touch."
She'd touch him, she decided, if he didn't let her go. How foolish to think she'd imagined that she loved him — she’d never disliked anyone more.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to smile. "I have guests, Sir Oliver," she said gently, and rested her hand on his where it gripped her arm.
"You're avoiding me," he said plaintively. "You don't understand my position — I swear to you that I don't want to marry Felicity."
"Really?" She asked softly.
As she'd hoped, he relaxed, and his hold on her arm loosened.
She backed away, and he followed. Now, she thought. She slammed the heel of her hand under his nose as hard as she could, then lashed out with her foot, and kicked him.
She ran. She didn't look back.
When she reached the staircase, she forced herself to slow. A footman nodded to her, and she realized that she was holding her breath.
"Ma'am," the footman said.
"Give me your arm," Elaine said, glancing behind her.
The footman's eyes widened when he looked along the hallway. Then he frowned. He gave her his arm, and escorted her down the staircase, and back to the ballroom.
The duke was speaking to Worley and two other men just outside the ballroom. The duke looked up, and met her gaze. Then his gaze sharpened when he glanced toward the staircase.
Elaine forced herself to maintain her composure. She didn't look back to see what damage she'd done to Sir Oliver. "Thank you," she said to the footman. Her voice was calm.
6
March 1817, London, Eardley House, Grosvenor Square
A month after their arrival in town, Catherine and Elaine breakfasted in the small dining room at Eardley House. Lilly lay at Elaine's feet. The poodle had quickly accustomed herself to town life.
Elaine mused about Sir Oliver as she crunched her toast. He bore a grudge against her, that was certain. He'd avoided calling, and Felicity had begun to fret. The one time Elaine been in the same room as he, he'd glared at her.
Curse the man. She had hoped that he'd been too cast away at the Hunt Ball to remember that she'd not only bloodied his nose, but had kicked him. It seemed that he had remembered. She glanced at Catherine. Luckily, Catherine hadn't been at the Hunt Ball.
Anne had seen Sir Oliver's bloodied nose and told Mrs. Eardley that Sir Oliver had made a show of himself. She didn't know whether he'd tumbled down the long staircase, or had had a physical altercation with another guest. Either way, he'd been ape-drunk.
Mrs. Eardley responded that the less said the better. Poor Lady Foxton could only be pitied.
Catherine read the newspaper, as she always did at breakfast. Occasionally, she'd cut something out of the paper, and place the snippet beside her plate. Catherine's maid pasted the snippets into books. Catherine used the snippets as research for the articles which she wrote for newspapers anonymously.
The rest of the household hadn't risen. They had all three just returned from riding in the park. Lilly loved the park. A groom entertained her while Elaine exercised her hacks.
"Well, will you look at that — Sommerforth has arrived in town again," Catherine said. "There's an item here about some bill he's sponsoring in parliament. I imagine that he'll call." She glanced up at Elaine from the newspaper.
To her annoyance, Elaine felt her face heat. She took another slice of toast, and bit into it. She knew that the duke had been in London when they arrived, but had left for Sommerforth Abbey almost immediately.
"He'll call," Catherine repeated. "He'll know that we're in town."
Elaine doubted that the duke would call. He'd seen Sir Oliver rushing down the stairs after her at the Hunt Ball. Later that night, when she and Anne were farewelling their guests, the duke had been polite, but he hadn't smiled. Did he think that there was some connection between her and Sir Oliver?
Although she told herself sternly that she didn't care, Elaine knew that she did, and that annoyed her. As Sir Oliver had helpfully pointed out, the duke was far above her touch.
How humiliating if he paid her attention, and then dropped her. Her face heated even more at the thought, then her body turned cold.
"When he calls, you must be all politeness, but don't encourage him," Catherine said.
"He won't call."
Elaine felt Catherine's gaze on her, and swallowed hard.
"He won't?" Catherine paused for a moment. "Now why would you say that he won't call? He was paying you much attention at the Abbey, and he danced with you at the Hunt Ball. Not to mention Lilly — I can't imagine that he scatters puppies about like rose petals, although he is duke, of course."
"Lilly? I'm sure that he meant her to be a thank you for the Boxing Day Hunt, nothing more," Elaine replied. The duke had distributed generous vails not only to the stable master, grooms, and stable lads, but also to all the household servants. "He had a good day's hunting."
Catherine's gaze narrowed on her. "You believe that?"
She asked, staring at her sister.
Elaine forbore rolling her eyes. "Of course." What other reason could the duke have for sending her Lilly? "So he won't call."
"Who won't call?" Mrs. Eardley asked when she entered. Lilly jumped up to greet her. "Good morning girls. And Lilly…" She leaned down the pat Lilly. In her months with them, the dog had endeared herself to the household.
A footman pulled out a chair for Mrs. Eardley, who inspected her daughters, then shook her head. "Girls, you're both looking fresh and highly colored — I see that you've been riding again."
She nodded to the footman to pour her chocolate. "I hope you wore a veil, Elaine. Otherwise you'll look like a country miss, all pink cheeks and freckles. That's the danger of your coloring, you see."
She sipped her chocolate, then went on, "you must strive to form good habits, my dear. Is Denise using the Hungary Water on your face every night? We've a soiree this evening, and the Fenchurch ball on Friday."
"Felicity and I shall call at Madame Lola's today," Elaine said hurriedly, before Catherine could explore the topic of the Duke of Sommerforth paying a call any further. "Madame promised that Fee's gown would be ready today."
"If you've finished your toast Elaine," Catherine rose. "I need you in the library. I want you to go over my accounts."
Elaine hoped that Catherine had forgotten about the duke, but she hadn't.
"Never mind that," Catherine said when Elaine lifted one of Catherine's ledgers from a drawer. "We can deal with the accounts later. I want to talk to you about the duke. You blushed when I mentioned him — why?"
Oh no, Elaine thought. She hated lying to Catherine, who usually saw through her. "He knows that I'm Fred," she said crossly. "He twitted me about it at the Hunt Ball." She’d long since explained “Fred” and riding astride, to Catherine.
"I see. You think that that has given him a disgust of you?"
"Of course."
"No, there's something else — something you're not telling me. I know you, Elaine. You've always been a wretched liar. Now come on — out with it."
The Lady and the Duke_A Dangerous Season Page 7
