Page 37 of The Marquess’s Forbidden Bride

‘Don’t even think about it,’ he said with a shudder. ‘After trusting you to my escort, it would be pistols at dawn with Lord Englemere if I came back bearing your broken body in a litter.’

‘I’d just as soon not have my body broken either,’ she agreed. ‘No galloping on one foot, then. Very well, proceed with the charade of leading my horse for a circuit or two. Then we can dismount and walk the horses while we talk.’

So he did, having had the forethought to bring along the required lead. While they rode, he kept her laughing with outlandish suggestions on how she might improve her form.

After two circuits, she insisted on a halt. ‘Enough! I’m sufficiently well tutored in how to keep my boot tucked into the stirrup and the proper position of my wrists.’

‘Very well, Miss, we will walk the horses.’

After helping her dismount, he took the reins in one hand, letting their mounts trail behind. ‘Perhaps I don’t need to become a trick rider after all,’ he said as they began to walk. ‘Perhaps I should seek employment as a riding instructor. It’s been marvellous, moving about the ring with no one paying me any notice, just another anonymous man going about his duties. Even in the army, as an officer giving or following orders, I was always the focus of a certain amount of attention.’

An anonymity he was soon to lose, she thought with sympathy. ‘You’d be a skilful instructor, especially with ladies. You have such a good eye for proper form.’

She grinned as he gave her a look, having caught her innuendo. ‘I know proper form when I see it. It’s even better when I can touch it, but lacking that leafy glade, that’s not possible here, either.’

‘Perhaps our next meeting needs to be in a garden with a leafy glade. This venue scores high points for offering anonymity, but none at all for providing adequate space for actual riding.’

‘As long as the garden includes that leafy glade, you have my approval.’

‘I can at least appreciate the magnificent horses here. One would have to maintain a mount in excellent condition to trust its strength and endurance while riding standing up, balancing only on one foot! I wonder where they get their fodder? Or whether there are fields close enough to take the horses to graze. We always had superior mounts at Wellingford. Our pastures grow exceptionally fine grass and clover, as well as oats and maize for supplemental feeding through the winter. What a serene sight on a summer afternoon, watching the fields of seed heads swaying in breeze! I often—’ She broke off as Richland began to chuckle. ‘What?’

He shook his head at her. ‘How exceptional you are! I doubt most gently bred females have any idea what their mounts eat, beyond a vague impression that they graze in pastures. Whereas you can enumerate the different types of forage and when it is used.’

A little defensive, she said, ‘Only because I appreciate plants. All types of plants, not just ornamental ones. I don’t see that’s a matter for mockery.’

‘I didn’t mean to mock!’ he protested. ‘Only to note again how unique you are. The question of forage is a serious matter to a dragoon, I assure you. It was often difficult in the Peninsula, finding sufficient water in the dry months and adequate grazing all year. English-bred horses accustomed to lush pastures like those you describe at Wellingford found it hard going adapting to the drier, coarser esparto grass of Portugal and Spain. Which made it a particular concern for us not to lose contact with the supply trains who could provide supplies of oats, barley or corn.’

‘I imagine it is just as important for a dragoon to keep his horse in good form as it is for these trick riders.’

‘Absolutely. And like the horses of these exhibition riders, cavalry horses require a good deal of training. Once one has produced a superior mount, one guards and cares for it zealously. Still, you’re the only lady I’ve ever met who sees horses and thinks about grass.’

A little embarrassed, she shrugged. ‘Perhaps I should marry someone who breeds horses, who would appreciate my enthusiasm about the crops that nourish them. And if there were fields enough bordering the manor for an ornamental garden, it would be perfect! Well, we should turn our efforts to the purpose of this meeting and discuss our upcoming plans.’

Richland extracted a paper from his waistcoat pocket. ‘I made a list of the entertainments my aunt has accepted for us in the next two weeks. Although you’re not going to need to know about most of them now,’ he added.

‘Why, has something else happened?’ she asked with some alarm. ‘Surely Lady Routham didn’t create another scene.’

‘No, but I’d almost rather that than what she does do. Forced to accept me as heir and apparently convinced I have little idea of gentlemanly conduct, she’s taken to sitting near me during refreshments, I suppose to observe whether I use the correct forks and spoons. Then, despite the hovering presence of Lady Jersey, she manages to slip past her to introduce unmarried females, whom I surmise she approves as suitable candidates to become a marchioness. Or perhaps she does those things only to annoy me. Unfortunately, gentlemen do not have the convenience of the ladies’ retiring room. I was forced to flee into the garden at one recent event when I spied her about to bear down on me with yet another candidate.’

He sighed. ‘It’s not just her. Although I’ve been able to restrict my dancing to Lady Jersey and her friends, I’m still subjected to an avalanche of introductions to gentlemen wanting to make my acquaintance. Men who I’m sure wouldn’t have given me a second glance had they not been informed I’m the new Marquess of Richland.’ He laughed, the tone bitter. ‘In fact, some of them I had met before, though they’d paid so little attention to a mere Lieutenant Marsden as to not recognise me again. It was amusing, really, to see them realise I seemed somehow familiar but not be able to place me.’

‘I suspect it’s more annoying than amusing,’ she said, feeling for him. ‘My handsome dowry attracts enough unwanted attention, but I suspect it’s nothing compared to what you now have to face.’

‘I appreciate your understanding.’ After falling silent a moment, as if weighing what he meant to say, he began, ‘The only thing I look forward to in London is meeting you again. And it frets me to flinders to have to sneak around to do so, as if being with you were somehow shameful!’

‘It’s not that! I just feel it would be…safer,’ she finished lamely. In truth, she didn’t care a particle what the ton thought and had no doubt she could handle Lady Routham’s rancour if she had to. But as continued contretemps with that lady would only make Richland’s integration into his new family even more difficult, she’d told him the fib, knowing that, otherwise, as a hardened soldier unafraid of battle, he would rather confront than placate the woman.

‘Yes, yes, I know avoiding public meetings is your preference—for the moment—and I will continue to respect your wishes. But since I cannot see you or dance with you at balls but cannot avoid attending them if I’m in London, I’ve decided to leave the city for a while. At least until my friends come to town and my presentation in the Lords is to take place.’

Conscious of a sinking feeling, Emma could manage only a faint, ‘Oh.’

He turned toward her. ‘As I’m sure you understand, it’s…aggravating to be constrained to meet people I’m not interested in knowing, while having to stay away from those I’d rather spend time with. Besides, I need to visit my parents. I’ve written to them about…events, of course, but I should speak with them face-to-face. Assure them I will always consider Harding Glen my first home and them my true parents.’

‘Of course, you’ll want to reassure them, though I’m sure they already realise how you feel about them. They know your character well enough not to fear your head would be turned by acquiring a fancy title or a grand inheritance.’

‘I imagine they do, but reassurance never hurts. And, frankly, I need to get away, to be once again just Charles Marsden of Harding Glen, former Lieutenant of Dunbar’s Dragoons. So…will you miss me?’

More than I ought, she thought, that sinking feeling in her gut again. ‘Alas, terribly. Who will give me pointers on my riding form?’