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“Lord Archibald, great that you could join us,” Francis Drummond shouted as Archie approached the group in front of the stables. Archie only waved, still, a bit annoyed himself for having his valet wake him at the ungodly hour of eight-thirty in the morning. Despite having been in the country for weeks, he had still not fully acclimated to country hours.
Francis Drummond was waiting along with his two sisters, Algernon Gaywood and Miss Gaywood. All of them had already mounted their horses. Lord Lambourn was standing by Miss Gaywood’s horse but did not seem to be joining them, although he wore a riding habit.
Both Drummond and Gaywood had said that they would go riding this morning and asked whether he would be their guide. He had hesitated, but when they had mentioned that their sisters would be joining them, he had agreed. At least he could ride next to Miss Gaywood and share a harmless flirt.
The gentlemen had perhaps hoped that Hester would join them as well, but Archie had just more or less run into her as she was entering the estate as he was exiting. He absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder, uncertain of why she would be in such haste when returning from watching birds. She always woke at five thirty or a similar time to go birdwatching if the weather permitted it.
A groom brought out his horse Jupiter, a large bay gelding, and the group took off, saying farewell to Lord Lambourn who headed back to the estate. Archie steered his mount to walk beside Miss Gaywood’s. He could see that it was one of the horses from his father’s stable. Minerva.
“Why isn’t the earl joining us?” he asked in what he hoped was a casual manner.
“He has already been out riding,” Miss Gaywood answered curtly. He was not certain whether it was him or the earl that she was upset with.
Archie glanced at her profile. She was wearing a crimson riding habit and a small black hat with a veil and feathers. She looked like a piece of confectionary and Archie’s mind immediately went to how she might taste. Which of course was a mistake, since the thought of his mouth between Miss Gaywood’s legs made his cock harden, and riding with an erection was definitely not pleasant.
He willed his mind away from her with his old trick of going through the list of monarchs: William the Conqueror, 1066 to 1087, William II 1087-1100, King Henry I, 1100-1135. He had reached King Henry III before it was finally comfortable for him to ride again.
“Does your sister often wear pantaloons, Lord Archibald?” Miss Gaywood asked beside him. Archie was almost startled at hearing her voice. He had been so focused on names and dates that he must have been quiet for several minutes.
“I have no idea. I don’t make it a habit of looking at my sister’s legs,” he answered truthfully. “Was she wearing pantaloons this morning?”
He tried to remember but had only briefly seen Hester when their paths crossed at the doorway. And then he had been more focused on the fact that she ran into him without apologizing.
“She was,” Miss Gaywood confirmed in a way that told him that she did not approve of it.
“I suspect it’s more convenient when she goes birdwatching, but I gather that you disapprove, Miss Gaywood?” he asked and tried to keep his tone light. He did not like her criticizing Hester, but he would also much rather flirt with Miss Gaywood than play the protective big brother right now. He would if he had to though. He had probably not been able to hide his protectiveness completely because Miss Gaywood quickly amended:
“I meant no disrespect of course. I merely meant that it is an unconventional choice of clothes for a woman.”
“So, there are no circumstances under which you would consider wearing a pair of pantaloons yourself, Miss Gaywood?” he asked in a light tone and raised his brows in question, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Absolutely not,” Miss Gaywood answered instantly. Her gray eyes found his for a moment and he saw the mirth in them.
“What if I forced you? At gunpoint?” Archie knew that he was grinning smugly as he said this.
“Well, by heavens,” Miss Gaywood’s lips quivered as she said this as if she wanted to smile, “if you forced me - at gunpoint - I might actually have to consider it.”
For some insane reason, the scene played for Archie’s inner eye: Him holding a gun and making Miss Gaywood strip out of her dress to put on a pair of pantaloons. They would show off her legs exquisitely. He was sure that they were slender but shapely like the rest of her.
The vision of Miss Gaywood in pantaloons and little else did nothing good for the situation in his own trousers. King Edward I, 1272-1307. King Edward II, 1307-1327. King Edward III, 1327-1377. Thank Heavens for rigorous tutors who had drilled the list of monarchs into his memory.
“Would you only consider it?” Archie prodded.
“Yes, if you were forcing me at gunpoint there would be a very real chance that you would shoot me afterward and I am not sure that I would wish to be found dead in a pair of pantaloons.” Miss Gaywood was actually smiling at him now and Archie could not help but laugh out loud at her joke. Was she flirting with him?
“What is so amusing?” the eldest Miss Drummond said as she turned her horse to ride next to them.
Archie sighed inwardly. It seemed to be her line and the fun always went away at that point. He was happy that Miss Gaywood simply said:
“It cannot really be explained.”
And then proceeded to talk about dresses. He slipped away from the conversation soon after but felt a twitch of remorse at having to leave Miss Gaywood’s side. A woman who was both beautiful and had humor was rare indeed.
***
That evening Cecilia wanted to make sure that there would be no games when the men joined them in the drawing room. When the duchess left the table, she immediately sought out the eldest Miss Drummond in the hope of making an ally of her.
Despite her finding the woman a bit irritating, she might prove herself useful. At the moment Cecilia had been annoyed at Miss Drummond for interrupting their conversation that morning, but afterward, she had come to regret her bold words to Lord Archibald. They had been very close to flirting and the last thing she wished was to have him continue his advances on her.
Had she been younger and less experienced, she might have relished in them, but she knew now that nothing good could come of such attention: At most, it would end in a very lovely and unforgettable kiss after which he revealed that he had never been serious and that she was too dull and proper to keep his attention for any longer span of time.
“We should organize a dance when the gentlemen join us,” Cecilia said without much introduction.
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Miss Drummond said and had an absentminded expression. Cecilia suspected that she was doing the numbers as to how many people there were. She had been doing them herself and if their parents did not participate, but if one of their mothers could be persuaded to play the pianoforte that would leave five couples.
“We should talk to Her Grace to be certain that it will not be a nuisance,” Cecilia said and the two went to seek the duchess’s permission. With that granted and the promise that the duchess would play, it was only to sit back and wait for the men to join them.
Flint was not much of a dancer. It was one of the only things that Cecilia found was a true flaw in him. He might be a bit too serious at times and his kisses might not ignite the passion in her that she hoped, but he was nice and pleasant. She was certain that he would make a dutiful and faithful husband.
She immediately sought him out as the dance was announced. She did not wish to dance with any of the other gentlemen nor have any of the other ladies dance with him. Especially not Lady Hester. They had been seated opposite Lady Hester and Flint’s twin brother Percy at dinner and she had noticed with growing frustration how Flint would suddenly cut into their conversation.
As they danced, she could not help but notice how elegantly Lord Archibald danced though. Despite his height, there was a certain grace to his body as he twirled the youngest Miss Drummond and the two of them seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely.
It did not seem to be a family trade, being a graceful dancer. Lady Hester danced just as stiffly as Flint as she danced with Francis Drummond. They broke away to dance with others and Cecilia could tell that Flint had lost track of the dance because he did not meet her when he should. Instead, he was one or two paces behind and turned abruptly towards her, seemingly in the hope of catching up.
Cecilia was not exactly sure what happened but one moment she was standing upright dancing, and the next she was lying on her back with Flint on top of her. Flint rolled off her and people crowded around her. Pain shot up her leg.
“Are you hurt, Ceci?” Algernon asked in a low voice as he crouched beside her.
“My ankle, I think,” she breathed as she pushed herself up to a seated position.
Her brother wriggled her foot gently.
“It’s just a sprain,” he declared. “Can you stand?”
Cecilia got up with his help, but it was clear that her foot would not support her. In a swift motion, Algernon placed an arm behind her back and one under her knees and lifted her. He started walking through the drawing room with her towards her room. Cecilia rested her head against his shoulder, trying to crush the image of her being carried off by Lord Archibald instead of her brother.