Page 36 of The Marquess’s Forbidden Bride

‘What’s so amusing?’ she asked as they pulled up near the park gates.

He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe we are reduced to meeting at an equestrian spectacle. Maybe I ought to take those lessons after all, train to become a trick rider and give up the marquisate.’

‘You, reduced to performing as a trick rider? Wouldn’t that make Lady Routham shout with glee! It wouldn’t restore her brother, though. Legally, you’d still be the marquess, whether you acted the role or not.’

‘True,’ he agreed, sobering. ‘There’s no escaping that responsibility.’

‘No escaping either that I can’t linger any longer. Sarah is giving a large dinner for Englemere’s Parliamentary colleagues tonight. There will be a thousand last-minute details to help her sort out.’

As the groom caught up, he watched her draw herself up, her open warmth cooling to social politeness as she transformed from intimate friend to Society acquaintance. ‘Thank you for your escort, Lord Richland, and goodbye. I hope your next few days will be pleasant.’

‘Until we meet again, Miss Wellingford.’

With that, she nodded and set her horse in motion.

Charles watched until both riders disappeared from view down Park Lane, trying to ward off a vague sense of depression.

With uncertainty over how much ‘protection’ Lady Jersey would extend and worse, knowing he’d not have Emma’s spritely company to entertain him, he wasn’t looking forward to attending the next few engagements his aunt had accepted on his behalf.

He’d stave off some of that disappointment by writing immediately to his friends. In the battle that was Society, discovering when his reinforcements would arrive in London would be sure to raise his spirits.

As would anticipating, he thought, chuckling again, spending a morning among the riding instructors at Astley’s Amphitheatre.

Chapter Twelve

Three mornings later, Emma hurried to the stables to collect horse and groom and head to Astley’s. Though Richland had sent a note offering to meet her two streets away and escort her to the amphitheatre, she wrote back, refusing. If they truly wished no one to discover their rendezvous, it was best that they not meet up until they were well clear of Mayfair. Higgins, who was devoted to all the Wellingford offspring, would provide sufficient protection in the unlikely event she might need any.

She hadn’t ridden since her last meeting with Richland. She told herself it was because she didn’t wish to encounter anyone who might be lying in wait for them. But if she were truly honest, much as she loved riding, the idea of doing so without his company had dimmed its appeal. Perhaps if she had to wait longer than three days for her next ride, she might have ventured out alone, but for that short time, she was willing to forego the pleasure until she could enjoy it with him.

Her excitement and anticipation rose as they approached the large-roofed amphitheatre on Westminster Bridge Road. Ignoring the little voice that warned she was far more excited to see Richland than she sensibly ought to be, she gave herself over to the prospect of a welcome ride and an even more welcome interlude with that intriguing gentleman.

Spotting her first, he emerged from the bustle of the street to ride toward her. After thanking the groom for safely escorting her, Richland said, ‘Shall we go in? I’ve arranged for a space. I told the manager that though I would be happy to pay the usual fee, we wouldn’t need an instructor; I’d be teaching you.’

She looked at him with mock indignation. ‘Will you, now? In just what aspect do you consider my horsemanship lacking?’

‘In your inability to dismount in leafy glades?’ he suggested.

Laughing, she said, ‘A failing of which I could accuse you as well. Very well, Sir Instructor, lead on.’

After leaving Higgins to enjoy a pint at a nearby public house, Emma let the marquess help her dismount and lead their horses into the enclosure.

In addition to half-a-dozen small groups where an instructor was giving lessons to neophyte riders, around the outside perimeter of the large ring professional equestrians were practicing their performances. Coming from one direction, Emma saw a young woman standing on the back of her galloping mount, balanced on one foot like a ballerina on the stage. From the opposite direction two horses trotted towards them, controlled by a man standing with one foot on the back of each.

After glancing around the crowded ring, Richland shook his head. ‘It appears we’re not going to be able to gallop here.’

She agreed with a sigh. ‘Granted, I had only a foggy idea what to expect, but there are far too many riders milling about, some of them’—she pointed toward one who’d lost his seat when his horse accelerated from a walk—‘very inexperienced. A trot may be the fastest we can safely manage.’

‘Not that I think the manager will give us more than a passing glance now that he has pocketed the fee, but to maintain appearances, it might be good to fasten a lead rein on Sunlight and have me lead her while we trot. As if I were conducting a lesson.’

Affronted, she gave him an indignant glance. ‘I haven’t ridden with a lead rein since I was five years old.’

He chuckled. ‘I suppose we could put the lead rein on Aeolus and you could lead me.’

Laughing at the absurdity of the situation, she said, ‘I’d rather have you teach me how to gallop while wielding a sabre…though that could not safely happen here, either.’

‘Thank Heaven that’s a skill you’ll never need!’ he said feelingly.

‘It would be thrilling to be able to gallop standing bareback on only one foot,’ she said, watching the equestrienne speed past them.