Countess Gives Birth in the Saddle.
The headline wouldn’t shock Valentina one bit.
For now, however, she had more practical realities to consider for Archie had urged his mount into a trot. How was she to keep pace? Fortunately, or unfortunately for her rump, her horse seemed to have an idea as it fell into step behind him, leaving her no choice but to notice things about him.
Like, how attractive he was with his hair glinting gold in the morning sun. And how broad his shoulders appeared in his impeccably cut riding coat. And the way his body moved with utter command and a certain looseness as they rode across London streets that were now waking to the day ahead.
At last—though it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes—they reached the verdant environs of Hyde Park. Archie slowed his mount to a walk and drew abreast with her. “You truly are a terrible rider, Miss Hart,” he said. “I’ve never witnessed anyone less suited to a horse. Can’t you simply relaxinto the ride?”
“No.” It was that simple.
His mouth widened into his too-charming smile. “Aw, but Miss Muffet is truly a sweet, old girl,” he said, reaching over to stroke the mare’s mane.
Valentina had a very different relationship with sweet, old Miss Muffet. “She nipped at me.” She still felt sour about it.
Archie shrugged. “Well, that’s down to you. You really should have brought her a sweet.”
The cheek of the man! “I know nothing of horses.”
Again, he shrugged. “Now you do. Anyway, it’s a good thing you’re so good-looking. Perhaps Nestor won’t notice that you don’t know one end of a horse from the other.”
Even as she considered defending herself from such slander, her mouth snapped shut.
A sliver of heat from his suddenly intense gaze cut through her—to a place deep and dark and interior. It stole her breath away; that heat, from this man.
To incite and capture the heat of a man like Lord Archer—a man who appeared to sail through life with blithe cool—it felt strangely special.
Then he shifted his gaze and fixed his mouth into the smile she’d come to know. He leaned in her direction. “We’re on.”
She followed his gaze. There, twenty yards ahead, was Lord Nestor riding toward them. Disgust surged through Valentina. Here was the man who’d decided it was his lordly prerogative to take what he wanted and ruin good men and families in the process. He was vile, and though she had her doubts about Archie’s methods, Valentina was suddenly grateful for his involvement in securing her family’s savings.
“Nestor, old chap,” Archie called. “You made it out.”
“You’re the one who’s late, Archer,” groused Nestor.
Lady Delilah laughed. “We Windermeres tend to have a loose association with timekeeping.”
“In short, we don’t have any use for it,” said Archie unapologetically.
Nestor’s gaze settled on Valentina. His eyebrows drew together quizzically. He was probably wondering why this Italian contessa, who he’d never met, was scowling at him. She made an attempt to relax her face and offer a smile.
Her lips lifted a fraction.
This approximation of a smile would have to do.
“Greetings, Contessa,” he said with a tip of his hat.
Valentina opened her mouth to reply, when Archie jumped in, “Poor thing doesn’t speak a lick of English.”
Her mouth snapped shut. Even as irritation streaked through her, she saw the wisdom of the choice. Nestor would know her for a low-born country bumpkin the instant she spoke her first hello.
And that would be good-bye.
Nestor shrugged indifferently and cast his gaze about. “Where’s the Arabian?”
All charm, Lord Nestor.
“Oh, I convinced the contessa not to bring him up to Town.”
