Page 38 of The Marquess’s Forbidden Bride

He smiled. ‘You’ll have to struggle along until I return. By then I hope you will be ready for us to reappear in public together?’

When she hesitated, he sighed and said, ‘At least, I hope you’ll have convinced Lady Englemere to arrange some private dinners. In any event, I’ll want Hart’s and Rafe’s ladies to plan some for us.’

‘When…will you leave?’ she asked. She’d had only a vague idea of when she might see him again, especially since Astley’s had turned out to be useless as a riding venue, but the idea of him going out of London, beyond the reach of a ride, a meeting or even the dispatch of a note, caused an unpleasant sense of…abandonment.

‘Two days from now, after the balls my aunt says I cannot miss.’

‘I see,’ she replied, that sinking feeling intensifying.

‘Your company will be the only thing I miss about London, you know,’ he said in a conversational tone, looking away. Perhaps he did so to mask any excess of emotion—which she appreciated, since she didn’t want him to see the disappointment she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide.

Rallying herself, ‘I shall look forward to your return, then, and to meeting your friends. Now, I suppose I should get back.’

If there must be a break, she’d rather do it quickly and get it over, rather than have the news of his leaving spoiling her pleasure in the time they had left. ‘I’m glad you waited until the end of the lesson to tell me your plans,’ she confessed.

‘I’ll only be gone a short time,’ he assured her. ‘My presentation in Parliament shouldn’t be much longer delayed.’

‘But Harding Glen is in Norfolk, isn’t it? With travelling time and even a short visit, you should be gone at least a fortnight, if not longer.’ Accustomed to seeing him two or three times a week, such a period seemed wretchedly long.

‘Yes, it would if I were returning to the Glen. As it happens, my parents are visiting my mother’s friend in Guildford, not too long a ride out of London. I shall be gone only a few days, a week at the longest. Perhaps not any longer than we normally go between meetings. I’ll give you my parents’ direction; you can send me a note by courier, if something disturbing happens.’ He smiled. ‘If Aldersby becomes too insistent, I shall sharpen my sabre and return posthaste.’

Cheered by the thought of him riding to rescue her, she said, ‘I appreciate the gesture, but I’m sure nothing will occur that requires a dragoon’s intervention. I shall just endeavour to survive your absence,’ she added, trying for a joking tone to cover her distress.

‘I’m sure you will thrive. Just don’t thrive too much,’ he cautioned, tilting her chin up to face him. ‘I should hate to return and discover my place has been taken by another riding instructor.’

She smiled at that. ‘I think you can consider that position secure.’

‘Good. I’m not eager to end this interlude, but it’s getting ever more crowded and the manager warned me the ring will shortly be cleared so the riders can go through their final rehearsal before the afternoon performances.’

She nodded and let him help her remount, closing her eyes to savour the feel of his hands at her waist, steadying her into the saddle. Though the truth was, his assistance did more to unsteady her, even as he secured her on her mount.

He’d been making her more and more unsteady since the night they met. She’d been so sure then what she wanted—and what she didn’t. Now she felt unsure of everything, knowing only she craved his company and would miss it keenly.

She was unsure, too, of how he felt about her. They’d begun in teasing friendship, but somehow along the way, her feelings had…deepened. She was nearly certain he, too, felt that intensifying connection—but with his driving imperative to work though his situation until he felt easy in his new role, she didn’t know how that would affect the course of their relationship.

Could there be…more than friendship in future? Once he’d fully assumed his role as marquess, would she want there to be? If he did court her then, could she sacrifice her independence and her zeal for gardening to be with him?

Having no answers to questions that only deepened her current distress, she pushed them to the back of her mind. She’d concentrate on the present: assisting Sarah and getting through the next days or weeks without seeing him.

After thanking the manager, they exited the arena, then walked the horses over to the public house, Richland ducking in to summon Higgins. After he rejoined her, they stood silently, waiting for the groom to finish his ale.

‘I hope you have a good visit with your parents,’ she said at last.

‘It’s always a pleasure to see Mother and Father. I’ve written to Hart and Rafe and hope they will both be in London by the time I return.’ He shook his head, his expression wry. ‘By which time, I must accustom myself to calling them “Fenniston” and “Thornthwaite”, at least in company.’

She smiled. ‘I imagine they will have similar trouble remembering to refer to you as “Richland”.’

‘I suppose. At least during my absence, you’ll be able to attend whatever entertainment you choose, without having to coordinate with me.’

‘Sarah will keep me busy. I’ll escape to the garden as often as I can.’

‘I suspect you’ll never be as content as when you’re in the potting shed with your fingers in the soil.’

‘How well you know me.’ Labouring over plants in the potting shed truly would be her favourite activity once Richland left London. Knowing there was no chance of seeing him would make all other activities, from calls to rout parties and especially balls at which she must skirt around the rooms, trying to avoid Aldersby, range from dull to outright annoying.

Richland opened his mouth to speak, then closed it abruptly. A slight frown on his face, he scanned the street around them.

‘What is it?’ she asked, mystified.