Page 7 of Courting Scandal With The Duke

She stepped up, and he easily boosted her into the saddle. Unlike most men, he did not struggle to lift her somewhat large frame—and his fingers did not dig into the flesh of her waist. Indeed, he hoisted her up without effort.

His firm strength made her feel as light as a feather. A unique and rather breathtaking sensation.

Lovely, in fact. An odd sort of weak feeling took her by surprise. And right at that moment, despite some earlier reservations before she left home, she knew she would enjoy the day.

As she settled into the saddle, he guided her foot into the stirrup and glanced up. ‘How is that?’

‘Perfect.’ And it was. The saddle needed not the slightest adjustment, which was unusual as most times there was a lot of fiddling about to lengthen the stirrup. Once they had even had to change the saddle because she was too tall. Talk about embarrassing.

Today, it was if he had somehow taken her measure and judged her needs and passed them along to his staff. Did that make him too fussy or just caring?

Maybe the former. What need had he to care?

He made a slight adjustment to the girth.

She forced herself not to be taken in by his solicitude. ‘I assume you have some grass over which we can gallop and streams we can jump, to make my journey worthwhile.’

A look of satisfaction crossed his face. ‘I will do better.’

Such arrogance. But before she could ask what he meant, he left her side and went to speak to Kemp, who had joined the groom holding the Duke’s horse. There was some muttered conversation between the two men.

The stable master glanced her way with raised eyebrows then bustled off on some errand.

What was that all about?

The Duke mounted up.

Barbara could not help but admire his athleticism as he swung up on to the large gelding, seemingly without effort. Or how manly he looked on horseback. As if he and the horse were one.

The horse sidled a bit, showing the whites of its eyes, but the Duke soon brought it under control, firmly but gently. No jabbing at the bit or sawing at the reins.

All in all, an impressive sight .

Yes, the Duke would be a challenge. But an enjoyable one.

‘Before we give the horses their heads,’ he said, riding close, ‘let me show you a little bit of the estate. It has been in my family for many centuries.’

To her surprise, as they left the stable, a mounted groom emerged from the stables and followed them.

‘Observing all the proprieties, are we?’ she asked. The gossips were right, this duke truly was a stuffed shirt. Dour-bridge. An apt nickname.

According to another, he was as toplofty as the King himself. He certainly seemed that way.

He needed taking down a peg or two.

Perhaps Barbara was the one to help in that quarter.

The Duke gave her a dark look in answer to her question. Oh, yes, as arrogant as they came. Well, she had suffered under arrogant men in the past, but not this one.

Her horse seemed eager to be off at a gallop, but Barbara held her in check. She did not know the lie of the land hereabouts and would not put the horse in danger.

They rode around to the front of the house. It was a small manor house in a rather plain style, little more than a farmhouse really.

‘This house has been in my family for seven hundred years,’ the Duke said.

She forced herself not to roll her eyes. ‘How interesting. It doesn’t seem grand enough for a ducal seat.’

‘No, it is not the Derbridge seat. It is only one of many properties.’

Barbara’s father didn’t even own a property. As the younger son of a younger son, he had spent all his life climbing the ladder of the diplomatic corps. Always seeking a title, even if it meant climbing over the corpses of his rivals.

‘I suppose its closeness to Parliament is the source of its attraction.’ She could not imagine why else the Duke would keep it for his own rather than rent it out.

‘Partly.’

Having a conversation with this duke was little better than talking to a rock.

She glanced over at him, to discover he was watching her intently. As if seeking her reaction to…something.

She stared back. Waiting for him to say more.

He turned away with a wave of his arm. ‘The estate is bounded by Hampton Court lands on that side.’

‘How nice. Are we hacking out or did you bring me all the way here for a geography lesson?’

If possible, his expression seemed grimmer than ever. ‘This way.’

To her disappointment, they turned not in the direction of open country where they could likely find open fields, but towards a small copse down the hill from the house. It seems they were going to take their horses for a walk after all.

The Duke led her down a narrow, rutted path and the groom followed behind. It was so dull.

Dull as ditch water.

Dull as—

‘Oh, my,’ she gasped as they emerged from the trees .

She came up alongside the Duke and gazed at the sight of a race track. The mare she was riding pricked its ears forward and back and skittered around. Barbara brought it under control.

The stable master she had met earlier was waiting at the rail with an older, grey-haired woman in the severe attire of a servant.

‘You own a racecourse?’ she asked.

The Duke looked down his nose. ‘Certainly not. I own racehorses. This is where they train.’ An expression of satisfaction crossed his face. ‘Nothing like a track for providing a safe good gallop. That is what you wanted, is it not?’

A small smile curved his lips.

It was the first time she had seen even the hint of a smile, and the effect was devastating. It brought warmth to those icy blue eyes and a sparkle that made them dance like sunlight across water.

Her heart skipped a beat.

What could she say? ‘It is of all things, the most marvellous.’