Jane felt it, the softening. She was determined to bring him completely around. To make up for what she had done, to make him happy. She knew she could do it. If only he would let her love him.
“Look! Aren’t they beautiful?”
The earl looked, saw the two riders on magnificent Thoroughbreds, the lady a vision in purple silk sitting sidesaddle. They both rode beautifully as they cantered through the park. There were quite a few riders about as well as curricles, gigs, and even a few strollers. “The chic time to ride in Hyde Park is before tea.”
“It seems like such fun,” Jane said wistfully.
The earl glanced at her, saw her longing expression. She felt his regard and quickly smiled at him; he turned away. But he was thinking carefully. She was an actress’s child, she had been raised in the theaters of London. What had her upbringing been like? Her manners and airs were beautiful, flawless. Yet it occurred to him that she had been deprived of most of the pastimes open to high Society, for she was not truly a part of it. He found he was disturbed by the empathy he felt for her.
The couturier was ready for them. Nick explained, first, that Jane was his ward and the granddaughter of the deceased Lord Weston, Duke of Clarendon. She needed everything: riding habits in silk and velvet, satin tea gowns, evening gowns in velvet, brocade, and so forth. “And the smallest bustle, please,” he said, knowing Jane would look ridiculous in an oversize one with her slender frame.
Not trusting Jane after the fiasco when she had appeared in the horrendous purple dress, Nick chose the fabrics for her—while she watched, wide-eyed. “This and this,” he said, picking up delicate swaths of pale-blue and mint-green silk. “The silver for evening. These pinks, the rose.” He squinted at Jane. “I think you can wear emerald and sapphire.” He held up samples against her skin, trying to be immune to the worshipful look in her eyes. “Yes, these as well.”
“How about the red?”
He looked at the flame-red dress and scowled. “Absolutely not. Maybe the wine. No red, no royal purples.”
He left them then to hours of fittings. But her adoring gaze haunted him all through the day.
Jane was late for dinner due to the time it took for all the fittings. While she had been measured and pinned, the couturier’s girls had altered several ready-to-wear pieces upon the earl’s instructions. She dined alone on cold roast chicken and watercress salad. Her heart leapt when the earl appeared in breeches and boots. She smiled tremulously.
“Are you too tired to go for a ride in the park?” he asked flatly.
Jane almost fainted. “No.”
“I’ll be in the study.”
Jane, no longer interested in food, raced upstairs to don a gray riding habit, hands shaking. She wondered if she should tell the earl she did not know how to ride, then decided against it. He would change their plans, and she would die rather than lose the opportunity to spend the afternoon with him.
Jane thought that her mount was an overly large thing. She studied the sidesaddle, then decided, What the hell? She was an actress, she understood the mechanics of riding, and everyone did it. How hard could it be?
Once in the saddle, her instincts asserted themselves and she held on for her dear life. The earl’s voice, from behind her, made her realize what she was doing and how she must appear. She tried to relax and look casual. “He’s a gentleman, don’t worry,” the earl said, his gaze sharp. “Are you afraid?”
Jane smiled brightly. “Of course not.”
His features softened. “Let’s go.”
Taking a deep breath, Jane nudged her heels to the gray’s sides and was surprised to find him ambling after the earl on his big bay hunter. Jane smiled. This was not so difficult. In fact, it was quite easy.
They rode down New Road at a sedate pace. The earl said nothing, and for once Jane did not mind. She was too busy accustoming herself to the feel of the horse’s gait and learning how to use the reins to steer him. She knew she should pull on the right rein if she wanted to go right, but a brief experiment brought no results. Fortunately, her horse was following the earl. This was easier than trying to control him, so Jane settled for taking up the rear. Besides, that way she could openly stare at the earl, even if it was only at his broad back.
They entered Regents Park. Jane stared at a couple on horseback who were coming towards them. The woman wore a red velvet habit and an elaborate black hat with lace veiling. Her companion was impeccable in polished boots, breeches, and a hunter-green riding jacket. As they drew abreast, Jane craned her head to watch them, and realized that the two were doing the same to watch her and the earl. A moment later she realized that they were not interested in her. They were staring at the earl. He nodded politely. They instantly put their noses in the air and ignored him. Jane was appalled. She opened her mouth to say so, saw his fierce expression, and immediately closed it.
A curricle passed. Jane looked within and saw two men in suits and a woman in tweeds. Everyone looked at everyone, except for the earl, who regarded no one. The trio’s undisguised curiosity gave way to elaborate shock. The woman gasped melodramatically, raised a gloved hand, and whispered loudly to her entourage. “It’s him! The Lord of Darkness! You know, the one who—” The rest was indiscernible.
Jane’s heart was pounding. She dared to peek at the earl. A vibrant shade of pink had stained his dark features, giving him the appearance of being sunburned. “I hate them,” Jane cried aloud before she could think.
“Let’s have a canter,” the earl replied tonelessly, nudging his steed into a lope.
Before Jane could say “wait” or even consider how to approach this new predicament, her own nag was following suit. Jane, thankfully, did not scream. Instead, she hung on to the saddle for her dear life.
She forgot about the reins, and they fell from her hands to flap loosely against the gelding’s neck. Her mount immediately became agitated, his gait increasing. The earl heard it and looked back—just in time to see a white-faced Jane slipping from the saddle in slow, slow motion.
“Damn it!” he cried, wheeling his hunter around roughly and then leaping off. He knelt in the dirt track by Jane, who was raising herself up on her elbows. She looked at the earl. Her cheeks grew pink.
“Are you all right?” he demanded. “Is anything broken? Are you hurt?”
“No, I think I’m fine.” Her voice shook. She was lying. She was in imminent danger of having a heart attack!
