by Claudy Conn
“That’s my girls!” shouted an exuberant male voice as a tall, husky, attractive man with a top hat askew over a mat of long, light brown hair rushed forward to take Donna’s reins.
Donna whooped in a very unladylike way and threw her tall and substantial self into her husband’s arms. “Weren’t we wonderful, my lord husband?”
“Robby, what was our time?” Bess demanded as she dismounted and rushed to him. She turned as she found her elbow taken by her father, the Viscount of Saunders, a wide smile spread across his attractive face as he regarded her. “Hello, Papa—how did we do?”
“One hour and ten seconds. I think,” Robby said happily as he dropped a kiss on his wife’s gloved hand.
Bess looked at her father and beamed. “That is good, isn’t it?”
Her father pinched her chin and shook his head. “We’ll see, madcap, we’ll see.” He eyed the scoreboard in the distance and said, “While it is better than good, I am not certain you beat Wesley and Thames. They didn’t take off until a good ten minutes after you and still have to come in.”
“Oh dear,” Donna cried, sounding worried. “I thought we flew over the course. I can’t believe anyone could have done it faster.”
“Aye, I agree, and this a hunter pace, yet everyone seemed determined for speed rather than style.” The viscount laughed.
“I know—I told Donna no one gives a monkey about the hounds chasing a fox!” Bess said, annoyed.
“Right then, the more time goes by before those two come in the better it looks for our girls,” Robby said in aside to the viscount.
All at once, everything—her father and friends chattering, the noise of the crowd in the background all jesting and having a good time, even the sound of the crows screaming overhead—was suspended.
All sound was obliterated in a world that had gone totally blank. Suddenly for Bess nothing else existed, for she could see one thing—hear only one thing.
A man, like no other.
He strode towards them purposely, with self-assurance and composure. The ground seemed to tremble beneath his shiny black hessian boots. His shoulders were wide, his height, tall—taller than most—and Bess felt her heart thump dangerously. But riveting her in place was the aura that seemed to glow all around him, an aura that reached out and made her his.
He moved in a world of his own—a commanding world that sucked up all the space near him.
He was masculine and yet fashionable in his riding coat, and beneath his top hat blonde hair fell in silky waves. As he got closer, she saw that his eyes were the finest shade of blue she had ever seen.
She felt suspended in time as she watched him approach.
Robby broke the spell of the moment as he exclaimed excitedly, “John, you old dog! You made it!” He went forward, hand extended, and carelessly dropped the reins of his wife’s horse.
“Robby!” Donna objected as her steed wandered off. She went chasing after it, adding under her breath, “Men.”
Bess, who had left her horse with her father, helped her round up the frisky gelding, laughed, and said, “Yes, but such men.”
Donna turned and looked from her to the new arrival. “Rather,” she said with a wink.
“Yes, indeed, but, Donna … who is he?” She peeked another look towards the handsome man jesting with her father and Robby.
“Hmm, I don’t know precisely. Robby has been jabbering at me all week about this top sawyer friend he met at a horse race some years ago who would be stopping by for a visit. This must be he.”
“Don’t you know his name?” Bess whispered now as they walked back to the gentlemen.
“Er … he is a Scotsman and titled.” Donna scrunched up her face. “What did Robby call him … Dun something, oh yes, the Earl of Dunkirk, that’s it, Dunkirk,” she said with a bright smile, obviously pleased she had recalled his title. “Yes, his title, Robby says, and his enormous wealth puts him at top of the beau monde for the season. He is considered the very Pink of the ton.” She pinched Bess’s sleeve and warned, “Stop it, don’t ogle him.” At Bess’s shocked expression, she laughed out loud.
“I wasn’t,” objected Bess, still finding it difficult to look away from him.
Donna sighed. “He is not for you.” She clucked her tongue. “Anyway, Robby said something about his being taken with the Lady Sonhurst.”
“Oh,” Bess said and heard the distress in her own voice. “Sonhurst, I don’t think I have ever come across her.” She felt a tickle of jealousy. What the deuce was wrong with her? She had never been smitten by a handsome face before or jealous. Jealousy was so destructive. She would not allow herself to feel that way—after all, she didn’t even know the man. And then she asked on a sad sigh, “Do you mean he is going to ask for Lady Sonhurst’s hand?”
“I don’t know, Bessy love, but I do know her or of her, the Sonhurst woman. She doesn’t travel in our circles. She is in Prinny’s set, and gossip puts her—”
“Oh, gossip is an ugly thing, Donna. Don’t want to hear it.”
Donna shrugged. “Yes, well, in her case, I count everything I’ve heard as truth. One only has to look at Sonhurst, Bess, to know what she is. And she is not that much older than we are and already a widow.”
“Well, these things happen,” Bess said with a slight shrug.
“I know, especially when you marry a man who has one foot in the grave already, for that is what she did.”
“Donna!” Bess said, shocked, and then giggled as she tweaked her sleeve. “Your husband is waving us to come over.”
“Yes, but one more thing, Bessy—this Scotsman isn’t the sort for you. Just look at the rakish way he walks. He must think a lot of himself, and you are, even if you are older than I, just a green girl. Besides that, I heard Robby say that he was a rogue. So, don’t look his way.”
“A rogue?” Lady Bess repeated, intrigued in spite of Donna’s warning. “That could mean almost anything.”
Donna released a chagrined sigh and said, “Well, we are about to find out just what it means about him. Only look at the way he is looking at you. I think I should slap his handsome face.”
“What? Why?” Lady Bess was astonished by this.
“Because I am a married lady, and I know just what that look means.”
* * *
Introductions had gone smoothly, but Bess had felt like a schoolgirl, unable to speak up, and she was sure she was blushing when the earl took her gloved hand.
Apparently her father was already acquainted with the earl, and an easy conversation between them and Robby kept them engrossed for a time. During that time, Bess had the opportunity to watch the charmer keep both men entertained.
The sky had clouded over, and she glanced away to inspect the darkening clouds with some misgiving, hoping they could finish the day without getting soaked. It was spring but still quite cool.
She returned her attention to the Earl of Dunkirk and noted that he had easy manners and that his smile was more than simply engaging. His smile was devastating. And if that wasn’t enough to slay a woman and confiscate her heart, that Scottish accent did the rest. That accent, oh, but it had attacked her brain and turned her into an infatuated moron.
She was somewhat startled when he broke away from her father and Robby and directed a question her way.
“Yer hunter is a sweet goin’ mare, Lady Elizabeth,” he said easily and with that rich Scottish burr. “I watched yer last fence, and though she was blowing a bit, she took it in a nice steady stride.”
“Yes,” Bess said and couldn’t think of another word to add to that. She felt a fool.
Donna saved the moment by saying, “I don’t think we were fast enough, though. My fault. I thought we were supposed to pace ourselves.”
The earl laughed. “It certainly looked as though ye were riding like the wind.”
“Bess … Bess!” an excited male’s voice called, and she turned to see a man running toward the assembled group.
“Fleet,” B
ess answered happily, going forward to take his gloved hands. “What? Have they posted the times?”
“Aye, they put up the wrong time for you before—it has been corrected, and they are now just going to announce the winner! Looks like you and Donna have it—I believe you two have it!”
Her father beamed broadly and said, “Shall we head on over to the hunt secretary’s booth?”
Everyone started up the grassy slope, chattering away all at once and with great jesting between them.
Bess looked at Fleet, who was without a hat, his brown hair a rumpled mass around his face and his clothes disheveled. His grin was bright, however, and his brown eyes sparkled with his excitement. She pulled at his riding coat, as its tail was caught up into itself, and laughed to ask her long-time friend, “What about you, Fleet? What was your time?”
“Blasted ugly cob of Jeff’s lost a shoe, so we are a good five minutes behind you. I told him to take one of mine, but, no, he had to have his cob. Idiot.”
By then a crowd had gathered around the booth. Bess looked to see what her father had done with her horse and saw that he had given both hers and Donna’s horses to their groom, who was quietly grazing them.
Robby leaned in and said to her, “Look at old Wendricks. He is looking at you, and I’ll be damned if his eyes aren’t twinkling. You’re a favorite, have always been a favorite of his, and with him looking pleased, well then …”
“Oh, how wonderful that would be, if only to show up that dratted Sweeny. He is forever cutting in front of us when we hunt, and he made the fuss about not letting females race today.”
The hunt master put up his hand for silence; when this did not work, he rapped on the table with his riding crop.
Chatter died down, and everyone looked expectedly up at the hunt master. He cleared his throat and thanked the wives of various members of the hunt for the hospitality booth with its wonderful cakes and sweets. He thanked the subscribers who helped set up the fences for the race and those who plotted it out with their arrows and markers to indicate the route. He thanked all the participants for their enthusiasm, and then one jolly participant interrupted him and shouted out jovially, “Come on, Art, get on with it.”
This made all and one break out with laughter. When this died down, the master once again cleared his throat and said with a look at Lady Bess, “And now, I suppose it is time for the ribbons, eh?”
Jesting and a bit of tomfoolery ensued, and once again the gathered group had to wait till this died down. The master of the hunt then announced the ‘turtle award’ for the slowest team, and that went to Fleet and his friend Jeff.
Once again, back slapping and jesting ensued, and once again the master had to rap the table with his crop.
The next few moments went by with Bess and Donna both holding their breath each time another set of ribbons were handed out. Nine ribbons had been awarded when the master announced that only one minute kept second and first place apart. Second place was handed out, and Bess’s hopes rose.
Was it possible? Had they taken first place?
They knew from past experience that it was a rare thing for a female to race, let alone be awarded a prize over a male. Usually, if the race was close, it went to the male riders.
However, the master of the hunt regarded them with some affection and a wide grin to say, “And so, first place goes to two of our favorites. They have worked for this hunt since they were old enough to ride to hounds. They have taken their tumbles and jumped right up and dusted themselves off, and now it gives me great pleasure to say that after checking and re-checking, our dear Lady Bess and Lady Mabry … come up here and get your blue!”
It was some time afterwards, during which a great deal of congratulations and hugging took place, that Bess turned and found the Earl of Dunkirk’s blue, so blue, eyes on her. She found herself flushed over the fact.
He grinned as he murmured, “Congratulations, lass. I see this race is a major event here.”
“Oh, I suppose we are making too much out of it … you must think it all very silly,” Bess said, her lashes shading her eyes as she looked at her boots.
“I doona think that at all, lass. I think it … refreshing.”
She saw that his smile always seemed to start in his eyes and was immediately drawn to him. This was awful, she told herself.
He was a rogue, Donna had said. He probably was no doubt laughing at her inwardly. She was sure he saw her as nothing more than a chit just out of school.
Well, but, she wasn’t. She had already enjoyed a London Season, she had just turned twenty, and if only she could stop acting like a fool … say something intelligent, but nothing, absolutely nothing came out of her mouth. All she could do was smile like a simpleton at him.
Sir George Fleetwood came up behind her at that moment, picked her up bodily, and swung her around. “See that!” he exclaimed in high glee. “My girl sweeps them all off the map.” He set her down and winked at her. “Knew you would. As soon as the old man said that you and Donna would be allowed to race with the big boys, knew you two would take it. Stands to reason.”
Bess laughed, not at all disturbed with his ‘manhandling’. They had been friends since they were able to crawl. “Stands to reason?” she returned. “Stands to whose reason?”
“Mine and anyone who has ever seen you hunt. Know how to get the best out of your animal. Now all you have to worry about is your horse’s suspensory. It was pretty muddy out there, but your man, I see, is already applying a treatment.”
An inclination of his head made Bess turn and exclaim, “Oh, Isaac is the best, isn’t he? Knows just what to do,” and then with a sudden frown she said, “Fleet, did you see something? Was she off? I didn’t feel it …”
“No, she wasn’t even stiff, but good idea to look after her like he is. As you said, he is a good man,” Fleetwood acknowledged.
The earl said quietly, “She’ll do. Doona worry yer head over it. I saw him walk her out, and she wasn’t in any discomfort.”
Bess breathed a sigh of relief but noticed that her friend’s eyes had narrowed as he inspected the earl. She laughed and introduced them. “Sir George … the Earl of Dunkirk.”
They shook hands, and she smiled at the earl. “Well, if you think she is in good shape, then it must be so.”
Sir George reacted by putting his hands on his hips and exclaiming, “If he thinks so? What about me?”
“What about you?” Lady Bess teased with a light laugh.
“George, my boy,” said Bess’s father, coming up at that moment to put a hand on Sir George’s shoulder, “we are getting up an impromptu dinner at the Grange tonight. Do you come?”
“Indeed, with great pleasure.” The tall, thin youth smiled happily, though he turned and pulled a face at Bess.
“Excellent,” Lord Saunders said as he took his daughter’s arm to lead her away. He smiled at the Earl of Dunkirk and added as they started off, “I look forward to welcoming you to our home later, my lord.”
“Thank you,” Dunkirk said, his eyes traveling to smile at Lady Bess.
She was once again riveted by his smile. It was, as was the ‘look’ in his eyes, so very intense, and then he openly did something—something he meant for her to see. His deep blue gaze journeyed over her body from the top of her head, right down to the toes of her riding boots.
She felt the heat rush through her blood and slam into her cheeks.
Men usually did look her over. Her mother had always told her it was ‘the nature of the beast’, and they had laughed over it, but never before had a man, any man, ever meant for her to see him doing this.
A sudden super-charged energy flowed through her and sent her mind into a frenzy of jumbling thoughts. She felt thrilled, naughty, yes, but thrilled all the same. He was the most magnetically attractive man she had ever met, and he had actually looked her over.
He then ruined it all when he said, “And will the Lady Bess be joining the adults this evening?” His eyes
twinkled at her.
She almost choked on her own saliva as she put up her chin. “The Lady Bess has already enjoyed a London Season, my lord! Just how old do you think I am?”
“Not old enough, my beauty, not old enough,” he said on a laugh before turning his attention to Robby, who was calling his attention to something else.
Of all the most odious things, thought Bess. He thought her no more than a schoolgirl!
~ Two ~
THOUGH BESS HAD CHOSEN her gown with care, she frowned as she studied herself in the long looking glass. Why did nothing bring out the woman in her? Everything she’d put on thus far made her look too young, and she was determined to show him after his remark that she was most certainly ‘old enough’!
Why hadn’t she paid more attention to her wardrobe? None of her gowns were provocative enough. She wanted to appear womanly and sensual. She wanted the earl to take note.
The bodice of her gown was not low enough, the material not transparent enough. Then she had a notion. She hurriedly removed the gown, turned the blue velvet inside out, removed the thick lace trim from the scooped neckline, and shrugged back into it. The swells of her breasts were just visible, yet not saucy enough to bring down censure.
She brushed her long black hair and took it up to the top of her head. She twirled various tresses and pinned them in place, weaving the matching blue ribbon between the curls.
She stepped back and was as satisfied as she was going to be. She took up a pretty light cream-colored knit shawl and draped it over her arm. She wasn’t wearing gloves, as it was an informal dinner and she preferred not to, though her father would raise a brow. It had not been easy for him since they lost her mother four years ago, but he was the best of good fathers.
Maddy stuck her head in and beamed at her. “Ah, oh, but, my love, my dear, how exquisite you are.”
She went to her nanny, who had become part of her family and remained with them, and gave her a hug. “What about you, Maddy? Aren’t you going to change into something pretty and come down?”
“Oh, no, love. I am going to my room, get into my nightdress, and have a wonderful read.” She smiled sweetly at her and said, “Now off with you. I just wanted to see you before you went down.
