polite; Katherine knew exactly who he was once she got a good look at his face. The Duke of Durham’s sons were famously regarded as the three most eligible gentlemen in Sussex. Katherine had seen all three in Henfield from time to time but never spoken to any of them. The gentleman on the horse was the youngest, a tall, lanky young man with too-long dark hair falling over his brow in a very dashing way—or as dashing as one could be, dripping wet. He waggled his gloved fingers as she continued to gaze dumbly at him. “Come,” he added in a cajoling tone. “Let me see you home.”
Rain sluiced down the back of her neck, her boots were ankle deep in mud, and she still had two miles to go—and Katherine didn’t know what to say. Who would have guessed that a handsome gentleman, the son of a duke, would ask to see her home when she looked as though she’d been dragged through a pond? “I don’t mind the walk,” she said stupidly. His greatcoat was securely buttoned up to his chin, and with his hat pulled low, he was about as dry as anyone could be in the downpour. She had a sudden fear that she would only prove herself a complete idiot if she accepted his offer, and surely that would be even worse than looking like one.
He laughed. “I would, in your place. You don’t want to take a chill; I would never forgive myself if you did.”
“It’s not far,” she protested weakly, even as her hand rose toward his of its own volition.
“Then it will be no trouble at all. Come; put your foot on mine—there—step up—and here you are.” With almost effortless ease he pulled her up onto the saddle in front of him. Katherine balanced awkwardly, not sure what to cling to. He shifted behind her, then folded the fronts of his coat around her, settling her securely against him. Underneath the greatcoat he was warm and dry, and the feel of his chest at her back almost made her lungs stop working. She glanced down at the ground as he nudged the horse into motion. Far below, a veritable stream ran down the middle of the muddy, rutted lane where she had stood just moments ago.
Good heavens. This must be a dream, or perhaps a fit of delusion. She was riding in front of Lord Gerard de Lacey, wrapped in his greatcoat with his arm snug around her waist to hold her steady. Things like this did not happen to her. Any moment now, she would startle herself awake and be standing in the mud again.
“I hope you completed whatever errand brought you out into this gale.” His voice rumbled in his chest, and his breath was warm on her cheek. Her heart seemed to be doing a dizzying dance inside her breast.
“I only wanted a book.” She shifted it clumsily under her wet cloak. Why couldn’t she think of something entertaining to say? “It was silly to go out just for that . . .”
“Nonsense,” he said with another laugh. “Some things require urgent action.”
She smiled in uneasy gratitude. “Thank you for taking me home.”
“What sort of gentleman would leave a lady to walk in this?” A gust of wind threw a sheet of rain straight at them, and Katherine reflexively ducked into the shelter of his coat as the horse shied and snorted. His arms tightened around her as he brought the horse back under control, and for a moment she could almost pretend it was an embrace. She pressed her cheek against his lapel, inhaling the warm scent of his cravat, and a little piece of her heart fluttered helplessly.
The next two miles passed in the blink of an eye. He made a few jokes and good-natured curses about the weather, and she managed to smile and even laugh. This was unreal. She no longer felt the rain or the cold; instead she felt like a princess, safe in the arms of a handsome prince—she, who had never been sought out by any young man. When the gates of her home appeared, she was somewhat dismayed it was over.
“There is my gate,” she said, turning her head to tell him.
“This one?” His blue eyes flashed, so very close to hers. “Shall I turn in?”
She shook her head. “Let me down at the gate, please.”
Perhaps he understood that she preferred no one see her riding with him; he surely