Regency Society Collection Part 2. Ann Lethbridge

      ‘I was. I noticed you hanging back, then Lady Caldwell showed up without you. One of those idiots should have stayed behind.’ He sounded furious.

      ‘I’m not a child, you know. I’ve ridden these fields alone all my life.’ She glanced around for Pippin. Not a sign of him.

      ‘Still chasing the leaders,’ Robert said.

      ‘I don’t know what got into him.’

      ‘Overexcited, I suspect.’ Robert held out a hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Can you walk?’

      She took a couple of steps. Her legs felt like blancmange and her bottom hurt, but she wasn’t injured. ‘A little stiff and sore, but I’m fine.’

      ‘Too bad.’ His dark eyes sparkled. ‘I was hoping for the excuse to carry you in my arms.’

      ‘Now why didn’t I think of that?’

      ‘Because you don’t play those kinds of games,’ he said. ‘Good thing too.’

      There was no one in sight. The only thing in the middle of the field was them and an oak tree. An oak tree with a very wide and gnarly trunk. As they passed it, a wicked thought popped into her mind. ‘Oh, I’m not feeling quite the thing.’ She headed for the tree trunk and leaned against it with her arm covering her eyes.

      ‘Are you feeling faint?’ he said, peering into her face.

      She let her arm fall and laughed up at him. ‘No.’

      He cursed softly. ‘Do you know how beautiful you look?’

      ‘No. But I’m hoping you are going to tell me.’ Had she said that? Was it he who made her recklessly wanton, or was it all her bad blood?

      He gave an unwilling laugh, his white teeth flashing in the black of his curly beard. ‘It seems you do play those games.’

      ‘Why have you given up shaving?’ she asked.

      He stroked his chin with strong square fingers. Mischief shone in his eyes. ‘Don’t you like it?’

      ‘I’m not sure.’

      He placed his hands against the rough trunk, his broad forearms bracketing her head. She drew in a quick breath at the jolt in her stomach. He leaned in for a kiss and she flung her arms around his neck and melded her body to his. After the strain of the morning, it felt wonderful to be in his arms.

      He groaned and deepened the kiss, his mouth working magic against her lips, his hands crushing her close.

      He broke away, and she was pleased to see he was breathing just as hard as she. ‘Robert—’

      ‘Someone is coming. Listen.’

      Hoof beats approaching fast. ‘Dash it all,’ she muttered.

      His dark eyes gleamed. ‘You owe me the rest of that kiss, but for now, start walking.’

      They stepped out from behind the shelter of the tree as a black horse and rider leading Pippin stopped to open the gate to the field.

      ‘Your rescuer arrives,’ Robert said drily.

      ‘Viscount Lullington.’

      He nodded. ‘Watch that man, Frederica.’ His voice held such deep loathing, she couldn’t help but glance at his face. His eyes were narrowed and his shoulders tense.

      ‘Do you know him?’

      His lip curled. ‘I know men like him. He’ll take any advantage.’

      ‘Oh, he’s not interested in me. He’s in love with Lady Caldwell.’

      ‘That kind loves only one person. Himself.’

      ‘Why, Robert,’ she said, her smile growing, ‘are you jealous?’

      He glanced at her, his eyes dark, almost bleak. ‘What right do I have for jealousy?’

      With a sinking sensation, she realised he’d made no promises to her. ‘Just do not trust that man.’

      The viscount was almost upon them. She turned to face him as he leaped from his horse and strode to her side. He appeared not to notice Robert. ‘Are you all right, Miss Bracewell?’

      Wishing him elsewhere, she forced a smile. ‘Perfectly fine. Pippin decided I needed a walk.’

      He grinned. ‘I am all admiration. Your spirit does you credit. I expected tears and gnashing of teeth.’

      Federica could almost hear Robert grind his teeth. She gestured towards him. ‘I was fortunate Mr Deveril came along or I might be less sanguine.’

      ‘Good man,’ the viscount said. He dug into his pocket and flipped a coin to land at Robert’s feet.

      Robert stared at it, his face rigid, pride in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders, then he bent to retrieve the coin from the dirt. He touched his cap and walked away.

      She felt sick and faint. As if he’d been shamed and it was all her fault. She longed to call out an apology, but Robert’s long legs carried him off at a rapid pace.

      Meanwhile the viscount was all kind concern. ‘Are you sure you are not hurt, Miss Bracewell?’

      Heart aching, she forced herself to answer calmly. ‘P-perfectly sure.’

      Lullington looked at her face and then at the retreating Robert. ‘Has he been with your family long?’

      ‘Just a few weeks,’ she said.

      ‘He seems like a competent fellow, if rather bold.’

      She glanced up to find him staring at her intently, his pale eyes seeming to see into her mind. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he gave a tight smile. ‘Now, Miss Bracewell, do you think you can re-mount this beast?’ He pointed to Pippin.

      Aware of prickling heat creeping up her face, she nodded. ‘I can.’

      ‘Pluck to the backbone. Let me give you a hand.’

      He led her to Pippin and she noticed how soft the leather of his gloves and how long and languid his fingers were. A shudder ran down her spine as if she’d brushed past a cobweb in the dark. Such nonsense. He was a dandy. A nobleman. She was wrong to compare him with the hard-working Robert.

      With Maisie looking on, her face a picture of envy, Frederica twisted to look at her back in the mirror. Wings. Made of the sheerest material and dusted with sequins, they looked almost real. The gown made her look taller, more shapely. ‘It is supposed to represent Titania from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Mrs Phillips did a wonderful job.’

      ‘You look like a fairy an’ all, miss,’ Maisie said. ‘My ma used to tell me about them. Don’t walk in the fairy circle, she always used to say. Toadstools, they was.’

      With a smile, Frederica ran her hands down the front of her sheer gown of browns and soft greens.

      Maisie went to work with the hairbrush and Frederica let her thoughts wander. What would Robert think if he saw her now? Would he approve? Or would he stare at her with those fathomless dark eyes and tell her that she looked like a damned peacock? Pretty, but useless.

      She couldn’t prevent a small smile. Yes, that was indeed what the blunt, unpolished man would say. And after tonight, after her one and only ball, she would never look like a peacock again. Why, she might even dance the night away on the arm of a handsome gentleman. She sighed. If only that gentleman could be Robert, it would be the best night of her life.

      A knock sounded on the door. ‘Who is it?’

      ‘Maggie. May I come in?’

      ‘Please do.’

      Maggie looked simply ravishing. A vision. Frederica felt quite dull and plain as she took in the gauzy trousers and soft veils of midnight-blue covered in sequins. The dress of an