He dismounted, taking her with him and setting her safely on the ground. Touching the side of her face briefly, he asked “Are you all right? Didn’t twist an ankle?”
“No, I am all right.” She looked up at him; her eyes twinkled with humor. The world around them grew hazy, his vision shrunk down to just this woman standing in front of him. He stilled, unable to tear his gaze away. She smelled delicious, like vanilla and maybe cinnamon? His hand, still at her waist, squeezed reflexively. She stood inches away, so close he could easily bend down and bury his nose in the curve of her neck. He wanted to lick his way up to her delicate earlobe and see if she tasted as good as she smelled.
Then a deep bark shattered the moment. Vivian stepped away from him, sweeping her hands down her skirts. They both turned to the others and found the owner of the dogs gaping at Andrew.
“How did you do that? Get them all to sit, I mean?”
Andrew, still atop his horse, shrugged. “The whistle is always an effective way to get a dog’s attention. Then you have to speak to them with authority. They have to understand you are in charge.”
“Well, I am amazed. Thank you…?”
“Lord Gilchrest.” He doffed his hat with a small bow of his head.
“Miss Whittingham.” She gave a small curtsy. Glancing at Vivian, she said, “Again I am so sorry. Well, if everyone is all right, I best be getting these beasts home.” She organized the leads and continued walking along the path behind her pack.
Lord Davenport came over to Vivian. “Are you sure you are not injured? I apologize for not being more help. Everything happened so quickly.” His hands gestured vaguely toward the retreating dogs. Jack snorted. The fool had almost let Vivian fall into the pond.
Davenport smiled at Andrew. “Gilchrest, it is nice to see you about. How are you and the boys?”
“We are doing fine, thank you. May I introduce my brother, Captain Aston.”
Jack inclined his head stiffly.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Davenport doffed his hat in a short bow. “You had excellent timing, you two.”
“Yes, thank you, Captain. I would not have enjoyed a dunk in the pond,” Vivian smiled at him.
“Anytime I can save a damsel in distress,” he replied with a wink. Then he mounted his horse.
Davenport turned to Vivian. “Maybe we should head back after all this excitement?”
“Absolutely. Perhaps I can offer you some tea when we get back to Dunmore House?”
Davenport tucked Vivian’s hand in the crook of his arm, and with a wave, the two walked away. Jack sat on his horse, frowning after them. Again, the urge to scoop her up and whisk her away was strong.
Andrew said, “Come on, let’s get going, Jack. I promised the boys I would have lunch with them.”
Chapter Seventeen
Friday evening Jack escorted his sister and mother into Lady Yardley’s home. They were attending a musicale, whatever that was. The drawing room had been set up with rows of chairs at one end, and in front of a yawning stone fireplace, a small stage had been erected.
The walls were painted a soft white, and the moldings had all been done in gold paint. Dozens of candles lit the room. The candlelight reflected off the gold, giving the room an ethereal effect. There were cherubs everywhere, painted on the ceiling, and depicted in small statues fixed to the walls and placed along the tables.
His mother spotted a friend and excused herself.
“What is a musicale, anyway?” Jack leaned down to ask Caroline.
She gave him a strange look. “It’s music and song performed.” She elaborated, “Lord and Lady Yardley’s daughters and niece will show off their musical skill. I believe she also has a popular opera singer performing tonight as well. Didn’t you have to come to these when you were younger?”
He grimaced, “Apparently, I was smarter back then. I don’t remember attending evenings of amateur music.”
No wonder Andrew had stayed home. Earlier at dinner, his brother had just raised his glass of wine and said, “Have fun,” when they discussed their plans for the evening. Andrew knew precisely what Jack’s evening would be like, the bastard.
Just as his mood plummeted, he spotted Vivian entering the room with Miss Beaumont and George Davis. She looked stunning tonight. A gown of bronze silk showcased her golden skin. The short, puffed sleeves and low neckline were trimmed in cream lace. Her glorious curls were all bundled on top of her head, but as usual, a few escaped, framing her face.
“Oh, good, there are Vivian and Gabrielle.” Caroline said. “And look, they brought Mr. Davis. Now you can stop pouting; you will have someone to talk with.”
“I wasn’t pouting. Men do not pout.” He gave her a withering look.
