She nodded.
“Better cross at the bridge.” He pointed downriver. “The water is deep here after the rain. If you should fall in wearing that heavy velvet riding coat you wore yesterday, you’d be in trouble.”
Her amused brown eyes met his. “We have had little rain as of late. I am well aware of the risk.”
“Good.” She did not take advice well, but he’d be damned if it stopped him from expressing his concerns. “You prefer not to have a groom with you?”
Annoyance thinned her lips, usually delightfully full. “I prefer to ride alone.” She turned to view the sheep now safely shut in his paddock. “It is my uncle’s hope that you will have these fences fixed soon, Lord Montford. There’s been trouble before.”
“Then I am sorry for it. I shall deal with any problems here as soon as possible.”
Lady Madeline nodded, looking down at him from her well-behaved gray. “My uncle will be pleased to hear it.” She settled her hat over her abundant locks. “And now, as I can offer no further help, I’ll say goodbye.”
Did she have any idea how she aroused a man dressed in those breeches? If she could have read his thoughts, he doubted she’d wear them again.
He watched with approval as she jumped her horse over the lower fence. She performed it superbly. But her shoulders were stiff with indignation as she rode down the bank. He chuckled. Unwilling to take his advice, back she went over the stream without hesitation. She was plucky as a tit-mouse in an owl’s nest. They were unlikely to become friends, and he was sorry about that. They seemed to have gotten off on the wrong foot. And he remained more than a little intrigued by his enigmatic neighbor.
Lady Madeline stubbornly occupied his mind until he settled at the desk in the study while Rasputin stretched out before the small fire burning in the grate. Hart groaned at the pile of unpaid accounts. “Not getting any smaller, is it, Horace?”
“In my experience, they never tend to, m’lord,” his steward said soberly.
The sooner Hart married and improved the estate, the better. Until then, it was possible to get a bank loan to tide him over, which would allow him to show some signs of progress to please his uncle’s trustees. Enough to release his inheritance? Recalling Spilsby’s sober face and his words of warning, Hart was doubtful. It appeared he must marry, and despite despairing over his dwindling days of freedom, he intended to seek a bride in London.
“Send the carpenter out to fix the fence in the south paddock,” he said to Brownly. “Some posts are down, and the sheep get through.”
“Yes, milord.”
“What do you know about Arthur Wakeham?”
“Not a lot, m’lord.” Horace scratched his nose. “Keeps to himself. Though I’ve seen some questionable visitors come there after dark.”
“Questionable?”
“Rough-looking types. Who knows what he wants with them?”
“What indeed.” Before he went up to London, Hart would meet Madeline’s guardian, Mr. Wakeham. As the fellow hadn’t stirred himself, Hart would call on him to invite him and his niece to dinner to discuss the work to be done to the boundary fences. It would be difficult for Wakeham to refuse. Hart intended to invite his sister along to make a four for whist. Diane could charm the very devil himself.
He began a letter to the bank, but after writing the salutation, he replaced the quill on the standish. Lady Madeline still hovered in his mind. She must be about twenty. And unmarried. Had she made her come-out? He doubted it. She’d be married if so. And stuck away here, she was unlikely to meet a suitable man to marry. Surely it was Wakeham’s intention to see her married? It would be her father’s wish. Hart disliked the man before he even met him. But he shouldn’t rush to judgment. He wasn’t aware of the fellow’s plans for his niece. Wakeham might have introduced her to suitors. Would a tall, independent girl like Lady Madeline put off men who looked for a biddable wife? He doubted it. She was far too fetching and would be pursued if she appeared in a London ballroom. He remembered how she’d stood up to him, and yet, he sensed a vulnerability in her, which, along with that cut strap, left him more than a little unsettled. He shook his head and returned to his letter.
*
In her bedchamber,Maddie peeled off the breeches Henry had found for her. They were remarkably comfortable. How lucky men were not to have to contend with yards of material while riding, as well as the cursed sidesaddle. Riding astride gave one so much more control. She was careful not to appear before her uncle in this garb. He needed little prompting to censure her, which could mean being shut away in her bedchamber until she groveled sufficiently to satisfy him. She held her tongue, unwilling to apologize, especially when he was so often in the wrong. But she did it to keep the peace. He would be right this time. She’d been bold, but desperate to get away from the house and feel the scented spring air on her face. And she could not ride Pearl until they mended the sidesaddle. Henry had promised to do it today. She grimaced and chewed her lip. She hadn’t missed Lord Montford taking her in from head to toe. Her power to move him sent an odd thrill through her body. She hadn’t expected to meet him, but seeing him struggling, she couldn’t leave him to deal with it alone, could she? Had she shocked him? So sophisticated a man. He must have seen worse, so she refused to worry about it.
She remembered Cathy’s words concerning Lord Montford.A handsome devil, always with a different woman hanging on his arm when he visited Bath. I saw him dancing at a ball, and setting all the women aflutter. Now he is a marquess, he is one of the most desirable bachelors in England, but word has it he doesn’t seek a wife, and ignores any matron’s attempts to push their daughters his way.
He obviously preferred city life. Would he stay long here? Long enough to make the improvements to his estate? She hoped he would stay. And they might meet again if he rode near the boundary between the two estates. Maddie welcomed more conversation with him, but that was probably because she was profoundly bored. She had tried again at breakfast to persuade her uncle to allow her to attend the London Season. Cathy wrote of Aunt Libby being well enough now to consider her come-out. She was sure her mother would be delighted to chaperone Maddie, too, and if they decided to go to London, she would write to her Uncle Arthur. But after Maddie mentioned this to her uncle, he remained resolute. He did not trust her aunt to keep the fortune hunters on the lookout for a wife with an excellent dowry at bay. Maddie was to remain here until he could escort her himself.
It was a lie. Her uncle had no intention of taking her to London. But why would he not let her go? she wondered, frustrated and close to screaming point. He appeared to dislike having her underfoot. Although she’d leaned to be careful never to do anything to draw his ire, he still found fault with her. It wasn’t her nature to be a meek, bread-and-butter miss. To cajole and appeal to his masculine vanity. She’d choke if she tried. And there was more to worry about. What went on in this house at night after she went to bed? She never ventured from her room when his visitors were there, knowing her appearance would surely anger him. But it gnawed away at her. She doubted his explanation of them meeting to play cards after she stayed up late to watch them through her window, coming furtively down the path. They looked more like highwaymen and not at all the sort of guests a gentleman would welcome into his home to play cards. What did it mean? She swallowed the sense of panic; she didn’t know her uncle well at all. Had seen very little of him before her parents died. The last time was when he’d come at her father’s bequest, she believed, to discuss the will. It was after her father’s heir, his younger brother, Frederick, had died of pneumonia.
Maddie moaned. Her twenty-first birthday was in a little more than a month. Then she hoped to have more control over her life. Otherwise, she could see herself a spinster shut away in her declining years. She wanted to meet someone she could love, who might love and care for her. She’d become so lonely it was all she could do to rise from her bed in the mornings. Only birdsong and her love of riding through the verdant countryside, spying shy deer darting through the trees, eased the grief of losing her beloved parents, her home, and her freedom.
While her maid, Jane, did up the buttons on Maddie’s morning gown before she went down to breakfast, Maddie thought again about Lord Montford. His handsome aquamarine-blue eyes changed like the sea at Brighton in summer. Pale in the shallows and darker in the depths. They darkened when she told him about the strap. Why would it concern him? And yet, she felt sure it had. It must have been an accident, for what else could have happened? But it warmed her to think he was concerned, although he must have dismissed it by now.
“Will I return these breeches to the attic?” Jane asked, holding them up as if they might bite her.
“Mm. No. I’ll keep them. I might wear them again.” A plan was tinkering at the edge of her mind. At this stage, she wasn’t sure she was bold enough to carry it out.
Jane giggled. “Lord Montford must have been stunned to see you wearing them.”
