Perhaps I had not scandalized our servants, but the lieutenant was rightly aghast.
He cleared his throat. “Did you enjoy your morning ride?”
I lifted my chin, ignoring the swell of embarrassment within me.You do not care for the opinions of others, especially not his.“I did enjoy my ride.”
He nodded, his eyes roaming over my face and hair, intent on taking in every detail of my appearance. To judge, no doubt. “And do you often ride…like this?”
“This?” I challenged. “I’m afraid I do not take your meaning.”
Lieutenant Paget pushed away from the stall and stepped closer. He left a good distance between us, but my heart pounded harder all the same. Light poured into the stables through the windows, but with the sky so cloudy, much of the space was still bathed in shadows. The lack of light only seemed to play to his strength and attractiveness, making his dark hair and eyes all the more rich in color and the sharp edge of his jaw more pronounced. Why did the man have to be so blastedly handsome?
“This.” He gestured to all of me. “In improper attire and…and so…”
“Sowhat, Lieutenant? Indecent? So wild and free?”
“Wild and free is an adequate description for a woman riding bareback with no riding habit.”
I narrowed my eyes. His tone was even, but a hint of something had come through, almost indistinguishable. As my father’s guest, he was likely attempting to maintain politeness and hide his horror to find a viscount’s daughter so uncouth.
Well, I refused to be embarrassed by his shock. Kenwick was my home, and I would not perform for others while here. A ball or house call, perhaps, required a certain degree of sophisticated behavior and grace. After all, I would not wish to disrespect my parents by embarrassing them to such a degree in a societal gathering. But here? In the stables?
No, I would not pretend to be anything or anyone but myself, and Annette Apsley was wild and free.
Almost.
The latter was within my grasp, and I would convince Father just as soon as he recovered enough for the conversation. Until then, I would not allow Lieutenant Paget’s clear disdain to rattle me.
I took three steps forward, placing myself so close to the man that I could feel the heat radiating from him. He stiffened, and his throat bobbed with another hard swallow. His repulsion pulled a grin on my lips. “Do you have a problem with my preferred riding style, Lieutenant?”
His breathing was shallow. I could tell by the quick rise and fall of his chest. Mine seemed in sync with him, a reaction I blamed on the ire building in my chest. I expected him to chide me, wanted to hear it even. The words would only solidify my loathing of the man.
But he did not chide me. He did not speak a word. Instead, his hand lifted to my plait, and my breath caught when he took it between his fingers. He wore no gloves, and the barest touch of his skin against my collarbone made me shiver. I searched his expression, but his focus was on my hair as he toyed with the cloth tie holding it in place.
Doubt flooded my thoughts. A man repulsed by my appearance and behavior wouldn’t respond this way. He wouldn’t play with my hair in such a manner.
Would he?
The lieutenant pulled his gaze up to mine, where it lingered several seconds before dropping briefly to my lips. Memories battled their way to the surface, and a longing to repeat them consumed me. Did he long for that moment in the alley, too? Live in those memories as often as I did?
Mistake, mistake, mistake!I repeated the word in my mind, willing myself to be convinced.
As if my hair caught fire, the lieutenant released my plait and took an abrupt step away from me. I felt the loss of his warmth, and the unwanted longing that had stirred inside me vanished like smoke in the darkness.
There. He was repulsed by my behavior and appearance. Why did that fill me with relief while simultaneously niggling at my pride? His displeasure was what I wanted.
“You should go inside, Miss Apsley,” he said, taking another step back, his eyes focused on the horse in a nearby stall. “I’m certain you must be cold.”
I was cold, but I did not wish for him to order me about. “When I’m ready, I shall go in.”
He would not meet my gaze. “I am leaving Kenwick for the morning, but if I may, I would request an audience with you when I return.”
I scoffed. “You have my attention now. Why force us to meet again?”
“Because I need to go, and you—despite wishing me to believe that you intend to remain outside—would prefer to change out of your wet clothing.”
My cheeks heated. I had not considered that my wet clothes were sticking to me in a rather revealing way. I was not soaked through, by any means, but the simple day dress I’d chosen this morning, due to my ability to get into it without assistance, had suffered during my ride through the rain.
I crossed my arms, willing my blush to dissipate. “I enjoy being wet.”
