Page 8 of A Game of Hearts

Dawn mist still clung to the grounds of Pelham Hall as Emma made her way to the stables. She had risen early, hoping to enjoy a quiet ride before the morning’s planned activities, only to find that several other guests harboured similar intentions.

Lady Beatrice waved to her from where she stood with Lord James, both already mounted. Other horses were being led out by grooms, their riders following in twos and threes. Emma’s heart gave a treacherous leap as she recognised Lord Limnwood’s tall figure near the stable door, speaking quietly with the head groom.

“Miss Everton!” The Duke’s cheerful voice carried across the yard. “Excellent! We seem to have arranged an impromptu morning riding party. Would you care to join us?”

Before she could respond, Lord Limnwood turned. Their eyes met, and Emma felt the weight of last night’s events hang between them - his defence of her, that almost-improper kiss of her hand, the way that he’d looked at her as he wished her good night...

“Your usual mount is ready, miss.” The head groom led forward the sweet-tempered bay mare that Emma had ridden several times during their stay. “Though I fear that there’s been a slight change in the arrangements.”

“Oh?”

Emma forced herself to focus on the groom rather than on Lord Limnwood’s approaching figure.

“Yes, miss. Lady Anne’s mare came up lame this morning - nothing serious, mind, just a stone bruise - so she’ll be riding Bella instead. Which means you’ll need to take Shadow, as he’s the only other mount suitable for a lady.”

Emma’s breath caught. Shadow was a beautiful black gelding, but rather more spirited than the sort of horses that she usually rode. She had admired him from afar but never...

“Is there a problem?”

Lord Limnwood’s voice was carefully neutral.

“Not at all,” Emma said quickly - too quickly, perhaps.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Shadow can be challenging, from what I’ve seen. Perhaps...”

“I am perfectly capable of managing him.”

Emma lifted her chin, ignoring the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She would not show weakness, not with Lady Anne watching from her perfectly docile mount.

“As you wish.” But something in his tone suggested that he was not entirely convinced. “Though perhaps you would permit me to ride nearby? Simply to maintain proper supervision of the party.”

Her heart leapt at this transparent excuse to stay close to her.

“If you feel it necessary, my Lord.”

A groom brought forward the mounting block, but Emma hesitated, noting its slightly unstable placement on the cobbles. Lord Limnwood noticed her concern.

“Allow me to assist, Miss Everton?” He moved forward, positioning himself beside Shadow’s shoulder. “The yard is quite uneven here.”

Emma’s heart quickened as he cupped his hands to create a step. She felt his strength as she placed her foot in his hands and he easily boosted her up smoothly as she pushed against his support, allowing her to settle perfectly into the sidesaddle. The fluid grace of the movement surprised her - clearly, he had assisted ladies with mounting before, though something in his expression as their eyes met suggested that this time felt different.

“Thank you, my Lord.” She was proud of how steady she kept her voice, despite the lingering warmth she felt from his assistance.

He swung onto his own mount - a magnificent grey stallion - with easy grace. Emma found herself admiring the smooth movement, the way he sat his horse, and the strength evident in his shoulders, before she caught herself and looked away.

“Shall we?” The Duke’s voice broke into her inappropriate daydream. “I thought that we might ride to the old abbey ruins - the view of the sunrise from there is quite spectacular.”

They set out in loose formation, Lord James and Lady Beatrice in the lead with the Duke, other couples falling in behind. Emma found herself near the rear with Lord Limnwood, which she suspected was not entirely accidental on his part.

Shadow proved to be everything she’d heard - responsive but spirited, requiring constant attention. She focused on maintaining perfect form, very aware of Lord Limnwood watching her.

“You ride well,” he said quietly as they followed a path through the woods. “Though I confess, I find myself concerned about Shadow’s temperament.”

“Because you think me incapable of managing challenging situations?”

The words emerged in a sharper tone than she had intended.

Something flickered in his expression - concern, perhaps, or something warmer.

“On the contrary. I begin to think you quite capable of managing any situation. Which makes me wonder why you feel the need to prove it.”

She looked at him then, startled by the understanding in his tone. The morning light caught those golden glints in his dark hair, and for a moment she forgot to breathe.

“Perhaps,” she said softly, “because some people’s good opinion seems worth earning.”

Their eyes met, and Emma felt the world narrow to just this moment, this understanding passing between them. His expression softened in a way that she had never seen before.

Before he could respond, a pheasant burst from the undergrowth directly under Shadow’s nose. The horse shied violently, nearly unseating Emma. She kept her seat through pure instinct, but Shadow had already taken the bit between his teeth, charging off the path into the woods.

She heard Lord Limnwood’s curse, the thunder of hooves behind her as he gave chase. But all her attention was focused on staying mounted as Shadow crashed through the undergrowth. She tried to turn him, to check his headlong flight, but he simply ran faster.

Through the rush of wind in her ears, she heard Lord Limnwood’s voice. “Emma! Let him run - there’s a clearing ahead!”

She forced herself to relax her death grip on the reins, trusting him. Shadow’s pace began to slow, and soon they burst into an open space - the remains of what might once have been a garden, now grown wild with early spring flowers. Emma took a firm grip, and pulled Shadow into a turn, forcing him to slow even more for balance as they circled the clearing. Every step, she prayed that the horse would keep his footing on the uneven ground, but all was well. The gelding recovered from his fright, and began to respond as he should, training overcoming the moment of shock.

Lord Limnwood’s grey caught up to them as Shadow finally dropped to a walk, blowing hard. Without a word, Nathaniel reached across to place his hand on Emma’s as they brought both horses to a halt.

“Are you hurt?”

His voice was rough with what sounded like genuine fear.

“No.” But she couldn’t quite control her trembling. “Though I begin to think that you were right about Shadow being too challenging.”

“You handled him beautifully.” He dismounted in one fluid motion, moving to help her down. “Most riders would have lost their seat entirely.”

She lifted her right leg over the pommel, and sat fully sideways for a moment. Then, before she could simply slip to the ground, his hands settled at her waist and steadied her as she slid down. When her feet were firmly on the ground, he didn’t immediately let go. Emma found herself pressed against him, her hands on his shoulders, both of them breathing hard from more than just the wild ride.

“I thought...” His voice was barely a whisper. “When I saw him bolt with you...”

“I’m perfectly well, my Lord.” She looked up, and found his face much closer than she’d expected. “Though perhaps it is not entirely proper, being alone with you like this.”

“No.” But he didn’t step back. “Though for once, I find that I care rather less about propriety than about the fact that you’re safe.”

Emma’s breath caught at his words. His hands still rested at her waist, warm and steady, and she could feel the rapid beat of his heart where her palm now pressed against his coat.

“Yesterday morning,” she began hesitantly, “you seemed to care very much about propriety.”

His grip tightened slightly.

“Yesterday morning I was...” He broke off, studying her face. “When I saw Shadow bolt with you...”

“You were worried?”

She meant it to sound teasing, but her voice emerged soft, uncertain.

“More than worried.” His hand rose to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. “Emma...”

The use of her given name made her shiver. His eyes darkened at her response, and she knew that he was remembering their kiss from yesterday, just as she was. The proper thing would be to step away, to maintain distance between them. Instead, she found herself swaying slightly closer.

“We shouldn’t,” she whispered, even as her hands continued to rest against his chest.

“No.” But his other hand curved around her waist, drawing her nearer. “Tell me to stop.”

She couldn’t, didn’t want to. When his lips met hers, she melted into the kiss, feeling his sharp intake of breath at her response. This kiss was different from yesterday’s - slower, deeper, full of unspoken feelings that neither of them was ready to name.

When they finally drew apart, she saw her own confusion and desire reflected in his eyes. Something was growing between them, something that terrified and thrilled her in equal measure.

A distant call made them both start. Reality crashed back - they were alone, unchaperoned, and had just shared a highly improper embrace. The rest of the riding party must be searching for them.

“We should go back,” Emma said reluctantly. “Though... what will you tell them?”

“The truth.” He brushed a final kiss across her lips. “That Shadow bolted, that I caught up to you, and that we are both perfectly well.” His eyes sparkled. “Though perhaps we needn’t mention every detail of what occurred after the horses stopped.”

“And Lady Anne?”

“Will say what she wishes, as she always does.” His expression hardened slightly. “Though she would do well to remember that I have influence enough to make society question her observations rather than your behaviour.”

Emma touched his cheek gently.

“I don’t want you to compromise your position for me.”

“I’m not. I’m finally living up to it.” He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “A man of my rank should protect those he... those he loves. Not through denial or rigid rules, but through honour and truth.”

She almost gasped at his choice of words, but, before she could speak, could ask him… the calls were getting closer. When he turned away a little and looked to the horses, Emma simply stood, waiting, until he helped her remount, his hand coming up to rest on her knee once she was safely settled in the saddle. The heat of that touch seemed to fill her whole body, distracting her from the exigencies of the moment.

“We will need to be careful,” he said quietly. “It is so easy to slip into impropriety. But never doubt, Emma - my feelings are engaged, I think, beyond what is sensible at all.”

She smiled down at him, joy bubbling up despite her awareness of the complications ahead, if he meant what she thought he meant.

“As are mine. You make me want to do things I shouldn’t - even when you’re being impossibly proper.”

His laugh was interrupted by the arrival of Lord James and Lady Beatrice, both looking relieved to find them safe. Emma noticed Lord James’ quick assessment of their slightly dishevelled appearance, the knowing gleam in his eyes.

“There you are!” Lady Beatrice called. “We’ve been so worried! Though...” She glanced between them with barely suppressed excitement. “I trust everything is... well?”

“Perfectly well,” Nathaniel said smoothly, mounting his horse. “Though perhaps we should return to the house? I do believe that Miss Everton has had quite enough excitement for one morning.”

They rode back together, maintaining proper distance but unable to quite hide their shared joy. Emma caught Lady Beatrice watching them with obvious delight, while Lord James wore an expression of profound satisfaction.

As they approached the house, Emma saw Lady Anne waiting on the steps, her expression calculating. Their absence had clearly been noted. Emma’s stomach tightened - what had been a moment of perfect connection now felt dangerously exposed to society’s judgment.

She lifted her chin, refusing to let anxiety dim the warmth that still lingered from their kiss. Whatever Lady Anne might suspect, she had done nothing truly wrong. Even if her heart still raced every time she caught Nathaniel - Lord Limnwood, she corrected herself firmly, for if she allowed herself to think of him that way, despite the fact that he had given her licence to use his forename, then she was sure to call him so in a situation where it was most inappropriate - looking at her.

As they dismounted in the stable yard, Emma could feel the weight of curious stares. Lady Anne had clearly been busy during their absence - several other guests lingered near the steps, watching with poorly concealed interest.

“Miss Everton.” Lady Agatha’s voice cut through the morning air as she descended the steps. “Are you quite well? We were most concerned when it was reported that you had become separated from the party.”

Emma caught the sharp look her aunt cast between her and Nathaniel. Something in Lady Agatha’s expression suggested that she saw more than Emma might wish her to.

“Quite well, thank you. Shadow was startled by a pheasant, and it took some time for me to bring him back under control, but Lord Limnwood’s quick thinking in following me prevented any mishap.”

“How fortunate that he was there to... assist you.” Lady Anne’s voice dripped honey-sweet venom. “Though one must wonder why it took you so long to return? The woods cannot be that extensive.”

Emma felt heat climb her cheeks at the memory of exactly why their return had been delayed. But before she could respond, Nathaniel spoke, his voice cool and controlled.

“We had to allow the horses to cool down a little, after their exertion,” he said smoothly. “As any experienced rider would know.”

Lady Anne flushed at this subtle reminder that she had given up her usual mount due to lameness, and then taken the quieter of the available horses, due to her claimed inability to handle Shadow. But her eyes narrowed as they moved between Emma and Nathaniel, clearly noting something in their manner which fed her suspicions.

“Come, my dear.” Lady Agatha took Emma’s arm. “You must change before breakfast. Though perhaps we might have a moment of conversation first?” Emma’s heart sank at her aunt’s tone. She allowed herself to be led away, though not before catching Nathaniel’s glance. The warmth in his eyes made her breath catch - how had they gone from proper distance to such awareness in so short a time? “I couldn’t help but notice,” Lady Agatha said as they reached Emma’s chamber, “that both you and Lord Limnwood returned looking rather... windswept.”

Emma busied herself removing her riding gloves.

“We were riding through the woods at speed, and not on a trail, aunt.”

“Indeed.” Lady Agatha’s voice softened. “Emma, look at me.”

She turned reluctantly to face her aunt, expecting censure. Instead, she found understanding in Lady Agatha’s eyes.

“You’re developing feelings for him, aren’t you?”

Emma’s breath caught.

“I... I hardly know what I feel. Everything is so confused.”

“That, my dear, is exactly what concerns me.” Lady Agatha settled into a chair. “Confused feelings can lead to confused behaviour. And in society, behaviour is everything.”

“Nothing improper happened,” Emma said quickly - perhaps too quickly.

“No?” Her aunt’s eyebrow rose. “Then why do you look both guilty and delighted? No, don’t answer that. Just... be careful, my dear. Growing feelings are wonderful things, but they need time to be understood. And society is not always patient with such understanding.”

Emma sank onto the edge of her bed, suddenly overwhelmed by the morning’s events. The memory of Nathaniel’s kiss made her fingers tremble as she unpinned her hat. What was happening between them? How had simple attraction become something that made her heart race at just the thought of him?

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted softly.

“Do nothing, for now.” Lady Agatha rose. “Let your feelings settle. Let his show themselves for what they truly are. Time has a way of making things clear - or showing them to be mere passing fancies.”

But as her aunt left, Emma pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering their kiss. Whatever was growing between them, it felt like anything but a passing fancy.

She only hoped that she wasn’t being a fool to let her heart become so engaged before she was sure of his – but he had implied, had almost said….

A tap at the door made her start. Susan entered with a silver tray bearing a note. Emma’s hands trembled slightly as she recognised Lord Limnwood’s precise hand.

Miss Everton,

I trust that you are recovered from this morning’s excitement with Shadow. Please allow me to express my admiration for your excellent horsemanship, and my relief that no harm came to you. I find myself quite unable to concentrate on anything else until I am assured of your wellbeing.

Your most humble servant,

Limnwood

Emma pressed the note between her palms, feeling, somehow, that by touching it, she might absorb the proper phrases that somehow conveyed so much more than their surface meaning.

He had written nothing that could raise eyebrows if intercepted, yet she felt the concern - and something warmer - behind his words.

“Shall I help you change, Miss?”

Susan’s voice held careful neutrality, though Emma caught her quick assessment of her mistress’ flushed cheeks.

“Yes, though...” Emma hesitated. “Perhaps the blue muslin for breakfast? Since we’re to have botanical drawing in the conservatory later.”

“Very good, Miss.” Susan moved to the wardrobe, then paused. “Though... if you’ll pardon me saying so, perhaps the green would be more suitable? It being rather warmer in the conservatory?”

Emma caught her meaning - the green was more modest, less likely to draw attention when she was already the subject of speculation.

“Yes, you’re right. The green will do very well.”

As Susan helped her change, Emma’s mind wandered back to that moment in the clearing. The way he had looked at her, the kiss, the gentleness in his touch that had belied his usual rigid manner... what did it really mean? And more importantly, what did she want it to mean?

“Your hair’s come quite loose, Miss,” Susan observed, carefully removing pins. “Shall I put it up again, in a different style?”

Emma caught sight of herself in the mirror - windblown curls escaping their pins, cheeks still flushed, eyes bright with remembered emotion. No wonder Lady Agatha had looked concerned.

“Yes, please do,” she decided. “Though please hurry - I wouldn’t want to be late to breakfast.”

Being late would only fuel speculation. She would have to face them all - face him - with perfect composure, as if this morning had been nothing more than a minor adventure with a spirited horse. Yet she knew, with a certainty that thrilled and terrified her, that everything had changed. Not just because of their kiss, but because of the way he had looked at her then, as if seeing her properly for the first time.

“There now.” Susan stepped back, surveying her work. “No one would guess you’d had such an eventful morning.”

Emma smiled at her maid’s loyalty.

“Thank you, Susan. Though I fear Lady Anne’s imagination will supply whatever details she wishes, regardless of my appearance.”

“Let her imagine what she likes, Miss.” Susan’s chin lifted slightly. “Those who matter will know the truth.”

But that was just it, Emma thought as she made her final preparations to face the day. She wasn’t entirely sure what the truth was anymore. Only that her heart beat faster whenever he was near, that his touch made her forget everything proper, and that somehow, without quite meaning to, she had started down a path that might lead to joy or heartbreak - or possibly both.