Mistress of the Hunt by Amanda Scott Page A

Lucinda or Jessalyn thought for a moment that she might come to learn of their deceit and be saddened by it, they would have had second thoughts altogether.”
    “Then I wish they had thought of it,” he said grimly. “Lucinda, for one, is certainly wishing now that she had thought more carefully before she acted.”
    “Oh, dear, were you very harsh with her?” Philippa asked anxiously, remembering her earlier thoughts upon the subject with some misgiving.
    “She was treated to the rough edge of my tongue, certainly. She deserved no less.”
    “But you did not … that is, you—”
    “I didn’t beat the chit, if that is what you are trying to ask.” It was he who looked away over the vale this time, and his next words came in a near-mutter. “Not that it mightn’t have done us both some good if I had.”
    “Surely not, sir. Surely it is enough that she knows she has displeased you.”
    “Oh, she knows that much,” he said. “I hope never to be the victim of such a flood of weeping again, I can tell you. I don’t know where she found so many tears, but I am persuaded that anyone setting eyes upon her after she left the room must certainly think she had been mercilessly ill-used.”
    Though she hid a smile, Philippa was grateful that Jessalyn had not subjected her to such an appalling scene. Tears were not Jessalyn’s way, however. That young lady was much more likely to indulge in coaxing and cajolery. Philippa felt a surge of compassion for Rochford, but it was very brief, lasting only until he gave it as his opinion in his very next breath that she had no doubt found it even more difficult dealing with her stepdaughter.
    “Indeed,” she said haughtily, “and why should I, sir?”
    “Well, you must admit you are rather young for such a charge, my lady.”
    “I admit nothing of the sort. I have had charge of Jessalyn since her eighth year, and in the general way of things, she and I get along very well. And I tell you, sir, that I bear also the responsibility for a young man in his first year at Oxford, and I do not find Edward to be any more cumbersome a burden than his sister.”
    “No doubt I misread the situation,” he returned suavely. “Are you fixed in Leicestershire for some time, ma’am?”
    “I do not know,” she replied, looking away so that he would not read in her eyes the contempt she was feeling. Clearly his lordship had no wish to dispute any matter with her. No doubt, like so many of her would-be suitors, he would agree that the best horses were green if she were to express such an opinion. Truly, a gentleman intent upon pursuit could be a boring creature.
    “You have no notion at all?” he persisted.
    “I fear I have become something of a Gypsy over the past months,” she told him honestly. “I suppose that having remained in Sussex for so long after Wakefield’s death, I simply become bored now when I remain too long in one place. I came here seeking peace and quiet after the racket of Brighton and London, but so far peace is the last thing I have found.”
    “I see,” he said slowly, “but surely you must have realized that Leicestershire during the hunting season is not known as a peaceful county.”
    Philippa shrugged. “I did not consider the sporting men,” she said. “They cannot have reason to seek out my company when they are intent upon the fox.”
    “That is true, certainly, but they do not seek the fox at all hours of every day.”
    “Do they not?” She chuckled. “I well remember when my mama asked Lord Honeycutt about the hunting box he had hired for the season, whether it had a nice garden. His reply was that he hadn’t got the slightest notion, since having never seen the place by daylight, he had never seen the garden.”
    Rochford smiled appreciatively. “ ’Tis true enough, I suppose, that many men leave their houses before daylight to attend distant hunt meetings and don’t return from their carousing before dark, but those must be the most