11
The women had assembled in the entryway. Ivy and Millie made a beeline for Hannah. Upon their approach, Philippa excused herself and drifted over to where Lady Bradford and Lady Hastings were admiring each other’s riding hats. Miss Annabelle Hastings stood with the older ladies looking a bit out of place amongst the matrons.
‘Are you well, Hannah? You seem… off.’ Ivy’s perceptive gaze scanned Hannah’s face.
‘I don’t frequently ride horses. Truthfully, I never ride them.’ Hannah desperately wished she could continue never riding them for the unforeseeable future.
‘There’s nothing to it.’ Millie’s husky voice was full of confidence. ‘The trick is to show no fear.’
‘Right. No fear,’ Hannah echoed.
‘If you show them one hint of apprehension, they’ll trample you flat in a heartbeat.’ Millie smiled brightly at Hannah. Hannah tried not to be sick all over her borrowed riding habit.
The late-summer sun shone down on them. Fluffy, white clouds played in a cerulean sky. Honeysuckle and hyacinth sweetenedthe air. Bees buzzed in the blooms. It was a glorious day. If only Hannah wasn’t trudging to her certain doom on the back of a snorting beast.
The gentlemen convened in the yard near the stables. Alfred Cavendale was talking to Lord Franklin St George. Hannah felt Millie stiffen as they passed the two gentlemen.
‘Good morning, ladies. Aren’t you all looking lovely this morning?’ Franklin St George’s stare lingered on Millie. Hannah narrowed her eyes, her lips tightening into a scowl. The nerve of him! While Hannah didn’t know the details, it was clear he had some kind of history with Millie. And not a pleasant one. How dare the bastard look at Millie like he was assessing a new stallion he wished to buy.
His chin dissolved into his neck and his ears stuck out, but his posture and fine clothes reeked of money. He kept his head tilted up to look down his nose at everyone. Such a pose left his soft throat unprotected and vulnerable. It would be so easy to punch him hard in his gullet and collapse his windpipe.
‘Laugh, Millie. Pretend I just said something devastatingly funny. Throw your head back and laugh.’ Ivy followed her own advice and let out a hearty laugh.
Millie turned to them. ‘It’s fine. I’m okay.’ But her glassy eyes and accelerated breathing told a different story.
‘Then show him.’ Ivy put more energy into her laugh, making Hannah worry she might have a coughing fit.
Hannah joined in, no doubt sounding like a braying donkey.
Millie looked at Ivy and Hannah, shaking her head. The corners of her mouth turned up in a slowly widening smile. ‘You’re both mad, you know.’ Her laughter was forced, but it filled the courtyard with a low melody.
Franklin St George’s eyes hardened. His mouth turned down in a sour frown.
Hannah’s laughter grew as she watched the pompous ass glare at them. The ladies crunched past the two gentlemen on the gravel drive. She kept herself between Millie and Franklin St George, determined to completely ignore the men. Still, St George’s malevolent glare burned through her back.
Groomsmen brought saddled horses from the stables. Hannah kept her eyes peeled for Betty’s handsome stable lad but was distracted by how massive the horses were as they stomped around the yard.
The assembly began choosing their steeds in a flurry of activity while Lord Cavendale, Lord Hastings, and Lord Bradford watched from a distance declaring themselves too old and too tired to join the ride.
Millie selected a massive Cleveland Bay mare and swept into her saddle without any help from the groomsman. Her eyes flashed with passion as her horse pranced in a small circle.
‘Tally-ho ladies! Let’s show these men how real horsewomen ride!’ Millie looked like a Valkyrie ready to sweep down and steal the souls of unsuspecting soldiers.
Ivy followed Millie’s lead, settling into her saddle with confident grace. Hannah tried not to scowl.
Philippa caused a minor stir in her split skirts, but it was nothing compared to the gasps of the women as she mounted her horse and rode astride. Hannah didn’t miss the censuring brow of Lord Franklin St George as he muttered something to Alfred Cavendale.
Philippa noticed as well. She trotted the black gelding close enough to spook St George’s horse, almost unseating the vile man. Glancing at Hannah, Philippa winked.
A curly-haired steward with bright eyes and a charming smile led a brown mare toward her. The horse snorted, pawing her front hoof on the gravel, kicking up stones.
Bother and blast!
Hannah could swoon. Surely if she slumped to the ground, someone would pick her up before the horse stomped her to death. She could go back to the house and snoop around to her heart’s delight while everyone else went on their bloody picnic. Capital idea.
She was moments away from doing just that when Killian appeared at her side.
‘She’s just as nervous about you as you are about her.’ He was standing too close as he reached up and placed a steady hand on the horse’s nose, rubbing the white forelock. Hannah watched his fingers and felt irrationally jealous. Of a horse.
