Page 31

Somehow, Nicolette didn’t think Mathias would be appalled if he learned she could wield a blade and shoot a pistol. No, in fact, she thought he might well applaud.

“I have ridden astride. Quite frequently,” Gabriella, the Duchess of Pennington, admitted quietly.

Raised by very strict grandparents, Gabriella’s announcement took Nicolette by surprise and given the other women’s equally flabbergasted expressions, them as well.

Gabriella looked around guardedly to see who might be listening. Satisfied, no one earwigged on their conversation, she said, “Roni is absolutely correct. Once you’ve done so, you truly dislike riding side-saddle. There’s so much more freedom astride.”

“Gabby, I didn’t know you had,” her sister Ophelia Brentwood chided in astonishment. “You sly chit you. How could you keep that from me?”

Gabriella looped her arm through her sister’s elbow. “Darling, you know perfectly well our grandparents would’ve had a conniption, and I didn’t want you reprimanded.”

“Hmph. Well, I fully intend to join Roni tomorrow, just so you know.” Ophelia puckered her forehead as she fluttered her fan. “Although what I’ll use to cover my legs, I’m not sure.” She gave her sister an intense look. “What did you use, Gabby?”

“I wore multiple pantalettes.”

Although not strictly in fashion, more and more women were wearing the undergarment.

Nicolette tilted her head. “I should very much like to join you tomorrow, as well.”

In truth, it sounded like great fun, and the slightly scandalous aspect appealed greatly.

Mayhap she could borrow a pair of Ansley’s trousers, for Mama wasn’t of the mind pantalettes were a necessity. However, the next time Nicolette visited the modiste, she meant to have a pair of riding britches made. And when they repaired to Fawtonbrooke Hall for the summer, she fully intended to pursue riding astride.

My, swearing and riding astride. She was indeed becoming a pariah.

“I’ve never ridden a horse astride, but I have ridden an elephant and a camel.” Megan crinkled her nose. “Trust me. A horse smells much better, and they don’t spit.”

“How marvelous.” Nicolette grinned at Megan. “An elephant and a camel? Was it thrilling?”

Chuckling, Megan nodded. “The elephant, yes. Not so much the camel. They urinate on their legs and the stench…”

She pinched her nose and crossed her eyes.

Her silliness pitched them into a fit of giggles.

Nicolette liked Mathias’s sister. A great deal, truth to tell.

At the tea last week, she’d met Megan’s three dark-eyed boys. Timothy, the eldest at seven, was a solemn little chap with missing front teeth. He resembled his mother a great deal. However, six-year-old Eric and four-year-old Gregory both sported shocks of red hair. Their father’s hair, Megan had explained, a faraway look in her misty, blue eyes.

That she still grieved for her beloved husband was obvious.

At one time, Nicolette had believed she’d wanted that kind of love.

You still do.

Pressing her lips together, she admitted to herself, she’d never loved Kilbourne in that way. Oh, she’d held him in fond regard, but he hadn’t invaded her thoughts during the day and her dreams at night. There’d never been an overwhelming urge to kiss him, much less have him touch her in the ways she’d daydreamed about Mathias caressing her.

She couldn’t even recall how Kilbourne smelled, but she did remember his perpetually foul breath—a combination of rotten eggs, garlic, and cigars.

A most noxious mixture.

But—and this was most worrisome—Nicolette knew exactly how Mathias smelled: peppermint, soap and starch, and sandalwood. Sometimes a hint of brandy or horse or leather, too. And he did invade her thoughts, very much as he did at this precise moment.

She’d looked forward to every outing with him. Every conversation, every secretive glance, every unintentional touch.

Just contemplating the latter sent a scorching flush over her entire body, made her breasts heavy, and caused an unsettling ache to coil low in her belly.

“We shall have a grand time.”