behind them, he did
not follow. She would stop when she realised he was not behind her and wait for
them both to catch up. But she did not pull up and he was at an impasse.
`Sir! Sir!' the
groom cried behind him. 'Go after her, sir, for I cannot.'
Cursing under
his breath, he set off after her. She was a fine horsewoman, he noted as drew
closer, but she was riding side saddle and that was not easy at that speed. And
how to stop her safely when he did ride up alongside her, he did not know. He
could not seize her reins, it would be asking for trouble. He could hear her
laughing and he feared for her at the same time as he appreciated her skill.
`Miss
Martindale,' he shouted. 'Juliette, pull up please, I own myself beaten.'
She seemed to
be galloping straight for the lake, but suddenly she drew up and brought her
horse to a blowing, sweating stop beneath a chestnut tree, whose blossom filled
the air with its scent. She jumped easily to the ground and turned to face him.
He threw himself
off his horse and found himself standing so close to her, he could see the
gentle heaving of her bosom and a laughing mouth that simply asked to be
kissed. He took her arms in his hands and pulled her towards him, lowering his
head to her upturned face.
Her laughter
turned to an expression of astonishment, but there was no fear there, no anger,
but that was merely her innocence, he knew; she did not understand what was
happening. Just in time he realised his folly and drew away, dropping his hands
to his sides and stepping back. `Are you hurt?'
`Goodness, no.'
Afraid to admit, even to herself, that she had wanted him to kiss her and was
disappointed that he had not, her voice was unusually hearty. 'Did you think
the horse had bolted with me?'
`Had it?' he
queried with a smile.
`Certainly not!
If I had been on Diablo and riding astride, as I am used to do in the country,
you would not have caught up with me.'
`But this is
not Hartlea, it is London.' He was still so shaken by desire he could hardly
look at her. Of all the stupid things to do, to fall in love at this particular
time! And what was worse, almost to declare himself. He pulled himself
together. 'We must be thankful that no one saw us.'
`Oh, but
someone did,' she said and nodded towards another rider who sat quite still on
another path, watching them.
He followed her
gaze. 'Martindale!' he said as the man turned his horse and trotted away.
`Are you quite
sure? He was too far away to recognise, surely?'
`I am sure.'
Her euphoria evaporated as suddenly as it had come, leaving her deflated and
worried. She had no reason to believe he would not report what he had seen and
what would the tattlemongers say about it, not to mention her mama?
He helped her
to mount and they rode silently side by side towards Thomas, who was limping
along beside his cob, apparently having been thrown in his efforts to keep up
with them.
Chapter Three
It seemed to be tacitly agreed among the members of the
ton that Miss Martindale would make her choice between Mr Devonshire and her
cousin, and her other would-be suitors quietly faded into the background to
watch developments. Consequently, in the next few weeks, Juliette found herself
escorted by one or the other gentleman to the theatre, to Bullock's Museum, to
Vauxhall Gardens and Astley's Amphitheatre, to soirees and routs and afternoon
tea parties, which she might have enjoyed if she had not been so conscious of
the fact that each was trying to outdo the other, and that wherever she was
taken by one
of them, sooner
or later, the other would appear as if by accident.
`You would
think the fellow would take the hint,' James grumbled, when Philip arrived
towards the end of a musical evening being held at Lady Grainger's house in
Park Lane.
'Hint, Mr Martindale?'
Juliette queried. 'What can you mean?' It was the supper interval and they had
repaired to the dining room for refreshments. Juliette sat holding a plate
containing a small pork pie and
not follow. She would stop when she realised he was not behind her and wait for
them both to catch up. But she did not pull up and he was at an impasse.
`Sir! Sir!' the
groom cried behind him. 'Go after her, sir, for I cannot.'
Cursing under
his breath, he set off after her. She was a fine horsewoman, he noted as drew
closer, but she was riding side saddle and that was not easy at that speed. And
how to stop her safely when he did ride up alongside her, he did not know. He
could not seize her reins, it would be asking for trouble. He could hear her
laughing and he feared for her at the same time as he appreciated her skill.
`Miss
Martindale,' he shouted. 'Juliette, pull up please, I own myself beaten.'
She seemed to
be galloping straight for the lake, but suddenly she drew up and brought her
horse to a blowing, sweating stop beneath a chestnut tree, whose blossom filled
the air with its scent. She jumped easily to the ground and turned to face him.
He threw himself
off his horse and found himself standing so close to her, he could see the
gentle heaving of her bosom and a laughing mouth that simply asked to be
kissed. He took her arms in his hands and pulled her towards him, lowering his
head to her upturned face.
Her laughter
turned to an expression of astonishment, but there was no fear there, no anger,
but that was merely her innocence, he knew; she did not understand what was
happening. Just in time he realised his folly and drew away, dropping his hands
to his sides and stepping back. `Are you hurt?'
`Goodness, no.'
Afraid to admit, even to herself, that she had wanted him to kiss her and was
disappointed that he had not, her voice was unusually hearty. 'Did you think
the horse had bolted with me?'
`Had it?' he
queried with a smile.
`Certainly not!
If I had been on Diablo and riding astride, as I am used to do in the country,
you would not have caught up with me.'
`But this is
not Hartlea, it is London.' He was still so shaken by desire he could hardly
look at her. Of all the stupid things to do, to fall in love at this particular
time! And what was worse, almost to declare himself. He pulled himself
together. 'We must be thankful that no one saw us.'
`Oh, but
someone did,' she said and nodded towards another rider who sat quite still on
another path, watching them.
He followed her
gaze. 'Martindale!' he said as the man turned his horse and trotted away.
`Are you quite
sure? He was too far away to recognise, surely?'
`I am sure.'
Her euphoria evaporated as suddenly as it had come, leaving her deflated and
worried. She had no reason to believe he would not report what he had seen and
what would the tattlemongers say about it, not to mention her mama?
He helped her
to mount and they rode silently side by side towards Thomas, who was limping
along beside his cob, apparently having been thrown in his efforts to keep up
with them.
Chapter Three
It seemed to be tacitly agreed among the members of the
ton that Miss Martindale would make her choice between Mr Devonshire and her
cousin, and her other would-be suitors quietly faded into the background to
watch developments. Consequently, in the next few weeks, Juliette found herself
escorted by one or the other gentleman to the theatre, to Bullock's Museum, to
Vauxhall Gardens and Astley's Amphitheatre, to soirees and routs and afternoon
tea parties, which she might have enjoyed if she had not been so conscious of
the fact that each was trying to outdo the other, and that wherever she was
taken by one
of them, sooner
or later, the other would appear as if by accident.
`You would
think the fellow would take the hint,' James grumbled, when Philip arrived
towards the end of a musical evening being held at Lady Grainger's house in
Park Lane.
'Hint, Mr Martindale?'
Juliette queried. 'What can you mean?' It was the supper interval and they had
repaired to the dining room for refreshments. Juliette sat holding a plate
containing a small pork pie and
Similar Books
