hesitation. He lowered his silky neck to drink and she used a nearby rock to aid in her dismount. She dipped her handkerchief into the water, wiped her face, and then found a comfortable seat on the rock, or as comfortable as one could be on a rock. From her new vantage point she surveyed the plants that lined the bank.
Hoofbeats from across the stream drew her horse’s attention before she even noticed them herself. Lord Destry appeared on the other side of the ford and moved through it with confidence.
“Good morning, Miss Brent!” He stopped in the middle of the ford while his horse drank. He did not wait for an answer. “If you would like to cross the ford, I can lead your horse for you.”
“No thank you, my lord. I was enjoying the solitude but must return to the house in a moment.”
He either did not hear, or chose to ignore, the word “solitude,” because he rode up beside her, jumping off his horse with practiced ease. There was no doubt that men had the advantage of women when it came to riding. Someday she was going to risk it all and don a pair of trousers so that she could try riding astride herself.
He sat on the rock next to her and began pulling off his boots. “It’s a perfect day for wading. The cool of the stream will feel marvelous. Care to join me?”
“My lord!” Cecilia stood up, horribly embarrassed by the suggestion that she show her ankles in public. Not exactly in public, but to a man who was not a relative or even a close friend.
“Miss Brent,” he said with a sigh. “I had hoped that any woman who was willing to venture out unaccompanied would not be beyond the very slightest of improprieties.”
“You are wrong, my lord, and I am only alone because Beatrice recalled another commitment and the groom escorted her back to the house. I wished to spend a little more time in the wood.”
“And would not be deterred by convention, which is my point exactly. You know,” he went on, “this is what house parties are for. It is a break from the burden of London rules and prying eyes.”
“I would not know, my lord.” And if they did go to London, she would hardly be traveling in the same social circle as the heir to a dukedom.
“You will know London soon enough, Miss Brent. And I promise you will look back on this lost adventure with great regret.” He had pulled off his boots and stockings. He stood up and waded into the water, his very pale feet quite clear through the gentle wash of the stream.
“Ahhh,” was all he said, but he made the sound a long, drawn-out groan of pleasure.
They were perfectly normal, ordinary feet. His was a perfectly ordinary reaction. But still she blushed. Climbing up onto the rock she seated herself on her horse before she said, “I will leave you to your childish play, my lord.”
“I will catch up with you!” he called out as she left, which only made her more determined to be back at the stables before he could join her.
She could have made it, she was sure, if she had not been stopped by Lord Crenshaw and her sister who were themselves headed to the river.
“I met your sister on her way to the house and she agreed to ride with me. We are going to cross the ford and meet up with Mrs. Wilson and the countess, who have taken her dogcart the long way round to the old banqueting platform she mentioned last night.”
“I’m not sure about the ford,” Beatrice began with atypical caution. What she really meant was that she was not sure about trusting the horses to cross the ford without tumbling them into the water.
“Nonsense,” Crenshaw said. “I’ll be with you and you will be quite safe.”
“Of course you are right, my lord,” Beatrice said with a firm nod.
“I would never let anything happen to you, my dear girl.”
Cecilia watched the scene play out before her. He would never let anything happen to her. Now there was a grandiose thought. A tree could fall and kill them both. The horse could be stung by a bee and bolt.
Lord Crenshaw was charming, but his words represented the perfect example of a man’s pride taking the place of common sense.
“Of course not, my lord.” Beatrice looked away with a knowing grin on her face.