Henry placed his cup in its saucer. “A few minutes ago, you said you were feeling so restless you could not sleep last night, and now you are talking about rivers of sunshine and smiling to yourself. I know something is afoot. Are you going to tell me what?”
“There is something I wish to talk to you about. But it’s of a rather serious nature and not what brings a smile to my face.”
“Good heavens! Don’t tell me you’ve decided to marry Lord Towne,” Henry teased.
“Very funny! You know I’d die before tying myself to that old goat.”
“The groom has readied the horses, my lord.” Benson appeared in front of them.
“Shall we go?” Ottilie pushed back her chair and stood up.
“Don’t you want a bite to eat first?”
“I’ll eat later. It’s rude to keep our party waiting.” Her nerves were alive with anticipation and her appetite obliterated at the idea of seeing Jack again.
“Now, I’m convinced something’s afoot.” Henry dabbed his mouth with his napkin and stood.
They made their way through the garden to the stables, where the groom handed Henry the reins to his bay thoroughbred and helped Ottilie mount a chestnut mare, side-saddle.
“Shall we?” Henry asked, once they’d settled on their horses.
Ottilie nodded and cued her mare forward. They trotted side by side along Hill Street and crossed into the park several minutes later via Stanhope Gate. Hyde Park sparkled under the cloudless sky and had never looked more lush or green to Ottilie. Perhaps it was the fruit from the rain two nights ago, she thought. As they approached Rotten Row, Ottilie spotted Jack looking regal in a black riding jacket and white breeches. He had on a silk top hat and even his tall, black boots shone in the bright sun. He sat atop a magnificent dappled gray thoroughbred and seemed absorbed in conversation with a lady on a bay mare. His horse stood unnecessarily close to her mare, and Jack angled his body toward the woman, so he almost touched her.
“Did Mr. Bastin say who would be joining his riding party this morning?” Ottilie asked.
“He did not, but I see he brought his cowboy valet along, and there’s Lady Buntley on a bay mare. I don’t recognize the lady he’s conversing with.”
As they rode toward the party, Jack turned.
“Good morning,” Henry called. “I hope we haven’t kept you waiting too long.”
“Not at all.” Jack smiled at Henry, but his gaze passed over Ottilie, and a whisper of fear brushed her throat.
“Lord Hudsyn, Miss Hamilton, I believe you have already met Lady Buntley, and of course, you know my valet, Brandt.”
Aside from a black cowboy hat, which Brandt doffed at them in greeting, his riding costume was identical to Jack’s.
“And allow me to introduce Lady Astyr,” Jack said.
Lady Astyr?The familiarity of the name struck Ottilie.Could she be a relation of Sir Richard’s? Or his new bride? No. Sir Richard has lived in India with his common-law wife for years. And this woman is too young.
“Shall we ride?” Lady Buntley’s voice broke through Ottilie’s thoughts. “The horses are becoming restless.”
“Lead the way,” Jack said. “We shall follow.”
“Splendid!” Lady Buntley spurred her mare into a gallop. Her horse disappeared down the row with Brandt’s black thoroughbred.
Jack remained close to Lady Astyr’s side as their horses trotted down Rotten Row, speaking intermittently to Henry and behaving as though Ottilie were invisible.
He is sensible to distance himself from me while in Henry’s company, and flirting with Lady Astyr is an excellent ruse. Henry will believe he has returned to his old habits.Ottilie reasoned with herself, but she could not help sensing something was amiss, and it caused a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.
*
Jack worked tokeep a smile on his face and his attention on Lady Astyr despite smoldering inside at the thought of Ottilie’s betrayal. She stayed close to her cousin and threw cursory glances in his direction as if trying to conceal her devious intentions. When he’d invited Hudsyn to join his riding party, he knew Ottilie would accompany her cousin and take advantage of the opportunity to spy for Sir Richard. And he’d been right. He envisioned her taking mental notes, recording what she saw and heard, so she could report all to the man. Jack smirked. Let the blackguard confront him. He itched to point his pistol at that bastard’s head.
Ottilie diverted from the group, leaving her cousin’s side and trotting ahead.
Jack watched her.What is she doing?
