Early days, Hugh told himself. Astride a horse, Luke was an impressive figure. The perfect man to banish Cardew from her mind.
They left the stables and their horses trotted across the grass.
At this time of day, Rotten Row was quiet, as most riders either came earlier, or later in the early evening. Few carriages drove along the South Carriage Drive, except for a high-perched phaeton driven by a dashing young blade. Hugh recognized him.Nash. He raised his crop to salute him, but the young man’s eyes were on Miss Kershaw, deep in conversation as she rode beside Sarah.
Hugh tightened his jaw. Surely it was concern, not jealousy he felt. Although her response to Nash was not his affair, the man was not the right sort for Miss Kershaw. But that was not something he was able to tell her.
Riding beside Luke, Hugh glanced behind him. Miss Kershaw responded to Nash’s greeting with a casual wave, before turning back to Sarah again. At any rate, she didn’t appear to be in love with the fellow. His deep sense of relief and the extraordinary feeling she caused in him left him baffled. The only answer was that he felt protective of her. It was not only remarkable, but uncharacteristic of him. And he was pretty sure he was fooling himself.Let it alone, he thought. He wasn’t free.
But he couldn’t help riding over to join her, which served the dual purpose to having Luke join Sarah.
When Miss Kershaw turned to him, he was surprised to see worry darken her eyes.
“I hope you approve of me befriending Lady Sarah, Lord Dorchester.”
“Why would I not?” he asked, startled.
She shrugged and tightened her hands on the reins, causing the horse to sidle. “Because of the gossip about me.”
“Is there gossip about you?”
She frowned at him. “You must know I refer to my lie about my father.”
“I had forgotten it,” he said. “I can see it is not your habit to tell lies.”
She gazed at him for a moment, her big, brown eyes regarding him. “You are too good.” Then she urged her horse into a canter to catch up with Luke and Sarah.
Too good? It was not how he thought of himself when his hands clasped her slim waist, and a rush of very different thoughts filled his mind and stirred his blood.
Chapter Six
Stone walls enclosedLord Dorchester’s magnificent Mayfair mansion, which nestled in a lush garden filled with bright spring flowers. In the drawing room, Lucy sipped tea from a delicate floral cup while seated on a cream satin armchair opposite Lady Sarah and her mother, the Dowager Countess of Dorchester. Somewhere Lucy had never expected to find herself, even in her wildest dreams. She should have felt like a fraud. But Lord Dorchester knew the truth about her and could have refused to allow his sister to befriend her if he wished, and despite that, she was enjoying herself too much to care.
Lord Dorchester’s footman had taken a note to Aunt Mary and Mr. Beaufort had driven Lucy and Lady Sarah in his carriage to his lordship’s home. After which, disappointingly, Lord Dorchester and Mr. Beaufort had disappeared into the library.
Lucy felt the dowager countess’s gaze upon her and straightened her back. Was the elegant lady aware of the lie? Lucy must not think of it, or her hand would tremble. She carefully replaced her cup on its saucer. She was acutely conscious that she did not belong among these people. But Lady Sarah was so warm and reassuring, drawing Lucy into the conversation by recalling the sight of a very fat man on a small horse riding down the Row.
“Sarah!” Lady Dorchester frowned. “You should not make fun of people.”
“But, Mama, he was whipping the poor horse.” She grinned at Lucy. “Miss Kershaw rode up to him and chastised him.”
The dowager countess turned to Lucy, eyebrows raised, no doubt thinking she lacked manners. “Sarah tells me you grew up in Bath, Miss Kershaw.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Do you still have family there?”
“Only my father.”
“I seem to remember meeting the Marquess of Berwick some years ago. The Kershaws hail from the far north. Might they be relatives of yours?”
Lucy tensed, fearing exposure. “Yes, they are distant relatives.”
The dowager countess nodded, then rose from her chair. “I’ll rest, Sarah, and take luncheon in my room. I’ll leave you to entertain your guest. Good bye, Miss Kershaw.” She nodded to Lucy and, looking thin and rather fragile, drifted from the room, her shawl trailing from her shoulders.
Lady Sarah watched her mother with concern darkening her eyes. “Mama has been unwell,” she said in a low voice. “She keeps better health in the country. Hugh wished for her to remain there and allow him to chaperone me. She should rest after our sojourn to Bath. But she does enjoy a little social life.” She stood. “Will you stay for luncheon?”
“My aunt will expect me at home,” Lucy said.
