“Notmine, by any means,” Martine said. “I have gone right off him. He has nothing to recommend him but his looks.”
“He sits a fine horse,” Brilliance remarked, and her friend began to chuckle.
“Sweet Bri, you mean he has a fine seat.”
Brilliance was shocked. “Do you mean Lord Patterson’s posterior? How can you tell from this angle?”
“No, I mean —” Martine didn’t finish. “Never mind. I hate to say it, but in my conversations with him thus far, I thought him self-absorbed and shallow.”
Brilliance agreed but wouldn’t have said anything in case her friend had been enamored.
Martine shrugged. “Lord Hewitt has a fine seat, too.”
Brilliance startled. He was up ahead in the main group while she and Martine had been among the last to mount up. His back was arrow-straight, and his riding coat of dark gray fit him perfectly.
Although she was always grateful for Martine’s loyal friendship, Brilliance couldn’t deny a part of her wished she was riding beside Lord Hewitt. He seemed to be speaking animatedly about something to Lady Georgiana, who was hanging upon his every word, and she longed to know what he was so enthusiastic about. It wouldn’t surprise her if the lady — and all the other female guests — were growing atendrefor the pianist.
That would be awkward indeed, for Brilliance could well imagine warning them away from the gentleman who was swiftly and thoroughly capturing her attention in a way no man had ever done before.
The instant attraction in the conservatory combined with their kisses were assuredly a sign of destiny.
Suddenly, Lord Hewitt turned as if feeling her gaze. He tipped his hat in her direction before facing forward again, and a pleasant warmth spread through her. It quickly died when Lady Georgiana turned as well, smirking smugly as if she knew of Brilliance’s interest.
“If I can see that you are aware of Lord Hewitt’s good qualities,” Martine said, “then others can, too. Including LordHewitt, himself. That would give him too much power over you, I fear. Proceed with caution, Bri. I urge you most adamantly.”
Brilliance nodded. She would not deny the truth, at least to herself, yet she knew it most improper to mention the kisses even to her good friend. Martine would disapprove of her distinct lack of caution, and Brilliance would hate to lose her friend’s respect no matter how full her heart already was with ... something special for him.
“Let us speak of anything besides men,” she suggested to Martine.
They brought up the rear, trotting, cantering, galloping, and walking. By the time they reached the ruins, forty minutes later, Brilliance was ready to dismount and wouldn’t care if she ever rode again.
“Was it your first time riding?” Lady Georgiana asked loudly, her tone dripping with antagonism. “You looked positively petrified. So stiff and awkward. We feared you might topple off at any moment.” Then she allowed Lord Hewitt to assist her in dismounting, giving no doubt as to whom she meant by “we.”
Brilliance stopped herself from sticking her tongue out by clenching her jaw. After all, it was her own fault. She had made an enemy, one who would bring up her every flaw — and Brilliance knew she had many. Suddenly, the week stretched out before her as one long opportunity to be derided and mocked.
Moreover, she didn’t like the way Lady Georgiana had launched herself off the side of the horse, so Lord Hewitt had no choice but to catch her, nor the way she seemed to slide down his body.
Waiting atop her mare, hoping he would also help her to dismount, instead Lord Patterson arrived first.
“May I offer you assistance?” he asked.
She glanced to where Lord Hewitt was taking Lady Georgiana’s arm, turning toward the ruins.
“Yes, thank you, my lord.” Unfortunately, as she unhooked her leg from the upper pommel, her treasured new skirt caught, making her tumble awkwardly onto him.
Lord Patterson yelped, trying to keep them both from toppling over, and succeeded in drawing every eye their way. With most of her riding habit still above her head, Brilliance could feel the cool air on her legs and let out a matching yelp of surprise.
Even Lord Hewitt and Lady Georgiana turned back toward the ruckus. The lady burst out laughing, and Brilliance was further from wanting to give her an apology than ever.
With a vicious tug, she managed to free her skirts from the saddle. Ignoring any continued snickering, not daring to look in Lord Hewitt’s direction, Brilliance smoothed the front of her habit, no longer wondering if he found her fetching. She only hoped the horse had hidden her nether regions from any of the guests on the other side of it.
“Are you steady now?” Lord Patterson asked, his own cheeks having ruddied somewhat at her clumsy display.
“Yes, thank you. I appreciate how you kept me from ending up prostrate at your feet. Shall we go see the ruins?”
As a group, Lady Twitchard’s party guests swarmed what once was a Roman farmhouse as well as a nearby personal family temple. Lord Hewitt had disappeared ahead, still being monopolized by Lady Georgiana. Martine was speaking with their hostess probably about the ruins, as her friend had an interest in history.
For the better part of ten minutes, Brilliance climbed over low walls and tried to imagine what would have happened in each area of the farmhouse. Lord Patterson remained doggedly nearby, jabbering in her ear about his own estate in Norfolk, until a female guest dropped her fan beside him. It wasan obvious ploy, indicating the lady’s interest, and for which Brilliance was exceedingly grateful.
