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He was about to call out to the lad to switch mounts when the sound of gravel crunching caught his attention.

Turning around, Evan spied Lady Holly strolling toward him, conversing quite intently with a servant.

She hadn’t yet spotted him, and he unashamedly took the opportunity to study her as she strode forward.

Her riding habit was a deep burgundy, the velvet jacket hugging her waist, the matching skirt trailing on the ground behind her.

Her red-gold curls were partially hidden by a black riding hat that matched the frogging and buttons on her gown.

Evan had never had the slightest interest in ladies’ fashions before, yet he was enchanted by every single detail of Lady Holly’s habit. From the black leather gloves to the burgundy feather that adorned her hat.

Just when he was deciding that he needed to get a hold of himself, Lady Holly looked up and her gaze caught his own.

And the hold he was trying to get disappeared all over again as he watched a blush work its way along her skin.

He’d never before been charmed by the blushes of debutantes.

Why then did Lady Holly charm him so?

“Good morning, my lady,” he called as she dismissed the servant and came to a hesitant stop before him. “It appears we both had the idea of getting here early.”

“Indeed,” she answered softly, her eyes darting around the stable yard.

Evan felt a twinge of something akin to disappointment as he watched her shuffle from foot to foot before him.

He knew that she’d been manipulated into this just as he had.

But he also knew it was his fault.

He’d been so enamoured of her beauty that he’d gotten them both into this. But the last thing he was in the mood for was dragging a conversation out of a vapid miss like so many others of theton.

That would teach him to think with his head, rather than another part of his anatomy that was infinitely less sensible.

He was seriously considering making up some excuse and crying off, when her gasp caught his attention, and he glanced up to see she was staring in a sort of awe at Tempest.

“Oh, he’s magnificent,” she said breathlessly.

Evan was embarrassed and a bit alarmed at the stirring in his body at her tone of voice. And more than a bit consternated that it was his horse and not him that had inspired such adoration.

“My stallion, Tempest,” he said softly. “And he lives up to the moniker, believe me.”

She grinned at his comment, but her attention was firmly on the beast and not Evan.

Stepping forward, she made soothing noises as she carefully reached up to run a hand along his head.

She looked tiny beside the black horse, and Evan felt bizarrely nervous.

“I was of a mind to take him for a quick run then re-stable him and borrow one of your mounts, Lady Holly,” he said. “Though I’m happy to forgo my ride with Tempest, since we’re both already here. He’s not an easy one to keep up with. Especially for a lady.”

If he hadn’t been watching her so closely, Evan might have missed the stiffening of her shoulders at his words.

But he couldn’t have missed the glint of fire in her eyes as she turned to glare at him.

Gone was the demure, blushing debutante who wouldn’t meet his gaze. In her place a woman who was quite obviously keeping a temper under a tight leash.

“I’m sure I shall manage, Lord Stockton,” she bit before signalling to a stable hand that Evan hadn’t even noticed lurking in the background.

The lad brought forward a beautiful white mount. Tall, too. Not the smaller pony he would have expected.