TEN
“Have you no other horses that I could use?” Sara asked the ostler of the stables, looking at the swaybacked animal in front of her.
“This or nothin’,” the man answered, spitting on the ground.
“But this is unacceptable. This horse is barely capable of standing on his own legs, let alone carrying a rider. Surely you have another . . . ”
“Look, Miss, d’ye want the ’orse or not?” the man interrupted her.
Sara looked the horse over once more. It infuriated her that this man could stand there and lend out this poor old nag for anyone to ride. She dug her hand into her reticule.
Her aunt had finally given her permission to ride, and Sara just could not wait until Lord Alston could rent a hack for her. But she had not imagined that she would have any trouble with such a simple task, nor that such sorry animals were provided. Now, unfortunately, she realized that she had been wrong.
She pulled out a few coins and handed them over. Her desire to ride was stronger than her pride, and she suspected that it was early enough in the morning that no one of any consequence would see her up on this sad-looking beast.
She was very sadly mistaken. It seemed to be a rather popular time of day to go out riding, and she had the misfortune to pass by quite a number of gentlemen she had met the previous evening. Although she recognized only two of the ladies who were out, their laughter at seeing her on this nag echoed in her ears for a good five minutes after she had nodded her greeting.
Still, she held her head high as she continued around the park. And it was in this pose that she had the extreme misfortune to meet Lord Reath, who was out on the most beautiful chestnut she had ever seen.
As he turned his horse to walk beside hers, she had no choice but to speak to him.
“How do you do, sir?” Sara said, deliberately ignoring his shaking shoulders, which showed that he was laughing at her, even though he was doing an admirable job of not laughing right out loud.
“I am very well, Miss Whately, and yourself?” he managed to say, while desperately trying to keep a straight face.
“Quite fine, thank you.” Sara kept her gaze directed in front of her. “It is a lovely day, is it not?”
“Yes. The weather has been unusually pleasant this past week.”
There was a pause in their conversation as Sara searched for something else unexceptional to say.
“Miss Whately, may I be so bold as to ask from where you obtained that . . . that animal you are riding? Surely it is not from your cousin’s stables.”
Sara gave a little laugh. “I believe you are being very kind, sir, in your choice of words. I am afraid that Lady Darlington did not wish to go to the trouble of stabling any more than her carriage horses while in town. I was forced to rent this poor old nag from a stable nearby.”
“I see. Perhaps you might allow me to see if there is another horse available from the same stable?”
“I was assured that there were none. And if there were, perhaps they are all in this same sad state.”
“Despite what you were told, I think I might be able to persuade the ostler to find a horse in better condition for you to ride.”
Sara turned and looked Lord Reath directly in the eye. “I assure you sir, I tried my best to do just that and I was repeatedly told that this was the only horse he had for rent.”
“Even so, I see we are nearing the gate, so it will do no harm to simply ride over and see if there aren’t any at this time.”
Sara could tell that he was not going to give up, so she directed the nag in the direction of the stable. The animal managed to give the impression of some enthusiasm as it headed home.
Lord Reath dismounted at the stable. But when he lifted her down, Sara had the oddest sensation of tingles all through her body. She removed her hands from his broad shoulders as quickly as she could after he placed her gently on the ground, but could not remove her eyes so easily from looking deeply into his.
His eyes were not only the most lovely color of gray she had ever seen, but there was something else, something warm and caring in them, as if he wanted nothing more than to make her happy.
She was saved from embarrassment by the ostler, who came out to greet the well-dressed gentleman. This time he did not spit on the ground even once, but instead bowed in the most respectful way imaginable.
Lord Reath, seeing the ostler approach, gave Sara a smile and a wink. He then turned an unsmiling face to the man.
“I am Lord Reath,” he announced grandly. “I am sure that there was a mistake when my good friend Miss Whately requested the loan of a horse and was given this sorry excuse for an animal instead.”
The ostler looked narrowly over at Sara. “Well now, my lord . . . ” the man began with a sneer curling his lip.
“You will give her a mount fit for a lady, my man, and you will do so immediately.” Lord Reath’s tone of voice would brook no argument.
The ostler’s gaze shifted quickly back to Lord Reath, and then without another word, he spat out some orders to a groom who was standing nearby. The young man led the nag back into the stables and returned a few minutes later with a much more respectable looking gray mare.
“That will do for today, but in the future, I expect this lady to be given your best horse each and every time she calls upon this establishment.”
The groom had led the mare to the mounting block and Sara climbed up onto her back. Lord Reath mounted his horse once again and without another word followed Sara from the stables.
The mare whinnied in protest and Sara loosened her tight grip on the reins.
“I thank you, sir,” Sara said through her gritted teeth, as they made their way back to the park.
“That is the most insincere thanks I believe I have ever received,” Reath observed, mildly.
“You will excuse me for not being properly elated that you were able to do something that I was not, simply because you have a title. Or do you think it is because you are a man? Which was it that impressed the ostler more, your enormous size and presence or your exalted personage?”
“You will forgive me if I chose not to answer that question, Miss Whately, since I see no way of doing so without causing even more offense than I obviously have already,” he answered quietly.
Sara felt a tinge of regret for her harsh words, but she had become so angry when he had been able to do what she had not. She began to think of her independent lifestyle in Philadelphia as some sort of fantastic dream. How was it that there she was able to run an entire household alone, and yet here in England she could not even walk down the street or rent a hack by herself?
Her morose thoughts were interrupted by the approach of a gentleman driving a high-perch phaeton with a beautiful high stepper pulling it.
“Ah, my Lord Reath, I see that you are once more taking advantage of your close association with this lovely young lady,” Beau Brummell called as he drove up to them.
Sara pulled her mount to a standstill, as did Lord Reath.
“But this time, I must really insist upon an introduction,” Brummell said, smiling, but with a very calculated look at Sara.
Lord Reath did not look particularly pleased, but had no choice but to comply.
“Miss Whately, may I have the honor of introducing Mr. Brummell?”
“How do you do, Mr. Brummell,” Sara said as mildly as she could.
“Your servant, Miss Whately,” Brummell said, standing for a moment in order to bow to her. “I do hope you enjoyed your little stroll down St. James the other day?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“I am afraid that I had quite lost my way. Luckily, Lord Reath was there to redirect me,” Sara tried desperately to hold her temper in check. She knew she was being baited, and did not wish to rise to it.
“Ah yes, how fortuitous that he was there. Had you and Lord Reath already been acquainted, Miss Whately?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, we have met on a few other occasions.”
”I say, Brummell, is it not a little early for you to be out and about? It was my understanding that you did not rouse yourself before noon,” Lord Reath said, raising one of his slashing black eyebrows.
Mr. Brummell smiled, but it was not an entirely pleasant one. Shaking her head, the mare reminded Sara, once again, to loosen her grip on the reins.
“You are quite correct, my lord. Unfortunately, an affair of honor forced a departure from my usual habits today. And what of you, Reath? How is it that you are about so early? You are not in your evening clothes, so you couldn’t possibly be on your way home from the evening’s entertainments . . . ” Mr. Brummell’s voice trailed off suggestively.
Reath’s cheeks turned slightly pink. “No, despite my previous reputation, I no longer engage in such behavior.”
Sara wondered if he were deliberately telling her this as well. Considering his conduct the previous evening—leaning so close to speak to that woman—she had suspected that he was quite a rake. But now he was telling her that he was one no longer. Was this, perhaps, what upset her aunt whenever Lord Reath’s name was brought up, his past reputation? She supposed that it very well might be.
“Miss Whately, I hear you are staying in town with your cousin, Lady Darlington?” Mr. Brummell continued with his questioning.
“Yes. She is bringing me out this season.”
“Ah. And what of your parents? You are from America, are you not? How is it that they let you travel all this way all alone?” Brummell asked.
Sara looked askance at Mr. Brummell. Enough was enough. Sara felt like a prisoner of war under questioning, but there was no reason why she should stand here just to satisfy this incredibly rude man’s curiosity. She smiled sweetly.
“I am from America, Mr. Brummell, where people have the freedom to move about as they please, either alone or with others and entirely without fear of being questioned by . . . ”
“Brummell, if you will excuse us, I believe it is time I escorted Miss Whately to her home,” Lord Reath interrupted.
Sara turned her furious gaze on to Lord Reath. How dared he interrupt her? She was just about to lay into this overbearing, patronizing fop.
Lord Reath gave her a warning look and turned his horse back in the direction of the gate. Sara had no choice but to follow his lead. With barely a nod of farewell and her head held high, she followed him until they were out of earshot of Mr. Brummell.
“You seem to think, sir, that I have absolutely no ability to care for myself,” Sara said, trying desperately to control her anger.
“I do beg your pardon, Miss Whately, but that is not the case at all. I merely . . . ”
Sara pulled up her horse and turned toward the man.
“You merely interfered once again in my life! You think that I am some naive little girl who needs constant rescuing—but nothing could be further from the truth.”
“I assure you . . . ”
“No, sir, I assure you that if you continue to insist on attempting to save me from every unpleasant encounter that I become involved with I will . . . I will never speak to you again. And I will tell everyone I meet what a horrible, devious, interfering rogue you are!”
She spurred her horse and trotted off toward the gate.
He had done it again! He was trying to rescue her from making another blunder. He was trying to control her and her life. It was too much. She did not want his rescuing. She did not want his interference. She did not want him in her life!
If only there were some place where she could race her horse! She looked across the neatly manicured lawns where children were playing under the careful eye of their governesses. And then back at the path she was on, which was quickly filling up with pedestrians, horses, and carriages. She desperately needed some place to take out her pent-up emotions, but this was definitely not the right place.
What made it worse was that she was sure that Reath would know of some place where she could do just that, but there was no possible way she could go back to him now to ask. No, she would simply swallow her bile and continue home as quickly as she could.