“Well, it don’t sound so fun when you say it like that, I only did what she wanted -–“ Moreland did not have a chance to say more, before Tristan’s fist connected with his face sending him to the ground. Tristan wished it was muddy. Moreland belonged in the mud and filth.
He stood for a moment over Moreland waiting for him to rise. There had not been enough satisfaction in that single blow. Moreland refused to cooperate. He rolled on his side and retched.
Tristan stepped back, gathering the gelding’s reins again.
“Don’t know why you did that. Not very gentlemanly.”
Neither was kicking a man when he was down. Tristan ground the heel of his boot into the dirt. The urge was hard to resist. He would like nothing better than to tear Moreland to shreds. That would not solve anything. The important thing now was Marguerite. He must get back to her. “I would suggest that you of all people do not use the word gentleman again in my hearing. I would, further, suggest that you ask your father for funds and take a long journey. I hear that Italy is wonderful this time of year. I would, however, suggest that you avoid mixing the wine and the women. I hear the fathers have long knives.”
He walked on down the path. He did not look back to see if the horse had any difficulties with the obstacles in his path. He did hear one smothered scream. “I’ll try calling on you in the morning. I suggest you be already gone. If you are not – let us just say I will not long remain a gentleman.” He walked on.
Marguerite looked up at the horse. The mare was smaller than Buttercup, but that was not reassuring. The horse snorted and looked at Marguerite, demanding. Demanding what Marguerite was not sure, but she knew that look. Her mother used that look.
She reached out a palm and let the mare nuzzle it. “You are a pretty girl. Can we be friends?”
The mare snorted again and stamped a foot.
“I know just how you feel. It has not been an easy day.” She patted the horse again and called to a groom to help her mount. She was glad Will had disappeared for the moment. He would only serve as a reminder of what she had lost.
A gnawing tightness grew in her chest. She would not think of that. She was here because she refused to think of it. She was going to let this day go on as it should have. She knew it was foolish for a multitude of reasons – you could not turn back time and pregnant women did not belong on horseback – but, for this day, this one day she refused to be reasonable. Being reasonable had gotten her no place. For today she would give into fantasy.
She would ride this damn horse and catch her husband and make him listen. It was time she made people listen – that she stood up for herself. She would show everyone.
She actually had her hand upon the pommel of the saddle, when she stopped.
Getting thrown from a horse would not show anybody anything. She was acting like a foolish child – besides she would not endanger her child – not that her horse’s rump of a husband would care, he might even be happy.
She turned away from the horse and strode off towards the park. She would find that stupid man on foot and then she would let him know just what she thought. Anger was much better than self-pity.
She did not even consider fetching a maid. She wanted no witness of this confrontation. She marched on into the park. Just wait until she found – She spied a group of ladies she knew ahead and turned on to a side path. She did not want company. How could she smile and pretend that all was fine – when her heart was breaking. She had always considered that a melodramatic phrase, but now it truly felt as if something deep inside of her were being ripped in two. Rage was not a strong enough shell to contain the hurt that continued to grow.
A tear trickled down her cheek. She was a fool. First, she should never have gone to Tristan in the first place. There must have been somebody else she could turn to for help. Another tear fell. Second, she should not have