His brief bout of reasonableness had hardly lasted until they’d left the breakfast room. She had responded eagerly to his suggestion of a ride. It was always a relief to throw off some of the strictures put upon her and have a good gallop. But she should have known that his idea of a ride would be nowhere near as exciting as that.
Now, as she stood in the mews at the back of the house, she stared at the horse he had chosen for her with disdain. ‘And what is the meaning of this?’
He had already taken to the saddle of a fine Arabian stallion, tugging at his riding gloves to be sure that they offered him a good feel for the reins. ‘It is the most appropriate beast that could be hired on short notice. There are few grown women in my family. I do not keep an appropriate mount for a lady.’
She compared the fine blood he was riding to the sad mare that had been chosen for her. ‘Are you sure she is strong enough for this? Perhaps I should be the one to carry her.’
‘I am sure she is quite up to the task of a ride around the park,’ he said, ignoring her sarcasm.
She looked enviously at his horse again, remembering all the times she had been allowed to take her father’s Turk out for exercise. ‘At least allow me to dispense with the side saddle. Perhaps if I am astride and not perched on her side like a decoration, I can coax some life back into her.’
‘Certainly not!’ It was not quite the shout he had released during their wedding, but it was bad enough.
She sighed. ‘Very well, then. If you insist, I shall ride like an old woman, on an old woman.’ She glanced at him as she was lifted up into the saddle and muttered, ‘Beside an old woman as well.’ Then, she gave her horse a quick nudge to pull in front of him.
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing, my dear.’ She turned back to him, offering a dim-witted and adoring smile, then cantered towards the street.
He caught up to her easily, offering a polite dip of his head to the ladies crossing in front of them as they turned into traffic. They looked up at him and giggled before hurrying on. From each woman they passed as they rode, he received more simpering and blushes, and she saw obvious looks of envy at her marital success.
George could not deny he made an attractive companion. It was a shame that she did not share in the public enthusiasm for the man. As she glanced back at him, she could see his look of annoyance that she’d outpaced him again. In her opinion, he could have saved himself the irritation if he had been willing to keep a reasonable pace. She mentally crossed off the first day in the duration of the truce. It was going to be a long month.
He was smiling at her as if it caused him physical pain to do so. ‘Perhaps you should let me lead. The traffic near Hyde Park can be unnerving.’
‘Are you speaking to me, or the horse?’ she said and gave a gentle shift of the reins to increase the distance. ‘I assure you, a few people on the street and the odd carriage is in no way alarming.’
He spurred to catch up. ‘Then perhaps you should allow me to lead as a sign of respect,’ he suggested.
She nudged her horse to be one step ahead of his. ‘Perhaps, if you were to go faster, we would be walking side by side.’
‘I have no intention of racing through the streets to get to the park,’ he countered.
‘Racing?’ It took all her restraint not to show him what a race actually looked like. ‘I doubt that would be possible with this poor beast. If we were to trade mounts, you could best me with a display of superior horsemanship and not just by being larger and louder.’
‘I am not louder.’ Even as he’d said the words, his volume had increased. He paused to regain control of himself before speaking. ‘And I say again, there is no reason to rush, nor do we need to make a simple ride into a contest of wills.’
‘If you mean to dominate me in every small detail of my life, then you can expect many more such contests,’ she said, deliberately spurring her horse to a trot.
He increased his pace to match hers, riding at her side, as she suggested. ‘Do not think, because I yield to you now, that I intend to let you set the pace of our marriage for me.’
They had arrived at Hyde Park already and were turning onto Rotten Row. Even she had to admit that the middle of a crowd of gossipy riders was no place to continue the argument, so she gave him the same insincere smile he was giving her. ‘If I wish to set a faster pace for our partnership, it is only because I want it to be over as soon as possible.’ Then she turned deliberately away to admire the carriage that had just passed them.
It was smartest curricle she had ever seen. Balanced high on its two large wheels, it was a hundred times more interesting than the sensible barouche that had delivered them to the town house yesterday. She looked up to see a familiar face smiling down from the driver’s seat. ‘Mr Gregory?’
She shouldn’t have used such a questioning tone. There was no mistaking Oliver Gregory for anyone but who he was. His dark skin and dazzling white smile had set maidens’ hearts fluttering all over London. But like all the rest of the mothers, Marietta had forbidden her to make his acquaintance.
He is not our sort.
By that, George had assumed she’d been referring to his being Indian. But really, he was only half so. Since it had not diminished his manners and had improved his looks, it was a strange thing to bother about.
‘Mrs Challenger.’ He gave a respectful bow of his head and another especially pleased smile. Then he grinned past her, at his friend. ‘’Lo, Fred. Out and about already?’
Mr Challenger shrugged and smiled back, relaxing. ‘Satisfying the curiosity of theton.’
‘But your bride is curious as well, I see.’ He had noticed her interest in his carriage.
‘Yellow wheels,’ she said in awe, reaching out to touch the rim that stood even taller than her horse.
