Page 23 of Dangerous Illusions (Dangerous #1)

Daintry, glancing apologetically at Charley and Melissa, saw that the former was watching her father expectantly, and turned back just as Charles replied, “No, dash it, we won’t.

“You don’t think I was turning the house upside down looking for you so that we could join the infantry on an amble around Cornwall, do you?

We are going shooting, Geoffrey, my lad.

Medrose tells me there are woodcocks and coots in the home wood, and dash it all, I haven’t been out with a gun in six months.

You don’t want to play the dashed knight errant to four females, do you?

Clemons can take some of the other stable lads if you’re in a fret about their safety.

No need for that, though. Bruising riders, all of them.

At least, Daintry is, and the girls, I daresay, and Lady Catherine just said she’s perfectly at home in the saddle, too, so come on with me. I’ll show you some real sport.”

Sir Geoffrey looked doubtful, but Daintry knew her brother would prevail and, her spirits rising, called to a stableboy to fetch out a lady’s mount at once for Lady Catherine.

“Which one, my lady?”

Before she could reply, Charley shouted, “Bring the Duchess, Teddy. She will be perfect for Lady Catherine.”

Opening her mouth to protest, Daintry encountered a fierce glare from her niece, and fell silent.

Common civility dictated that one ought to provide one’s guest with the best riding horse at one’s disposal, but Lady Catherine had said she was an expert, so no doubt the Duchess’s frequently peculiar gaits and odd habits would not trouble her.

Lady Catherine was watching the gentlemen’s departure, but she turned just then, looking not quite so much as before like a lady expecting to enjoy an exhilarating gallop across the moor.

But when Teddy emerged from the stable, leading a lovely little white mare, her countenance brightened.

“Oh, how pretty,” she exclaimed, walking up to stroke the Duchess’s rosy muzzle.

Charley, having removed her lead rein the moment her Uncle Geoffrey’s back was turned, rode up beside Daintry and muttered, “I don’t believe she really wants to go with us at all, you know. In my opinion, she saw Uncle Geoffrey and thought he meant to ride with us, and so she came out, too.”

Realizing that her niece suffered from much the same misunderstanding that she had suffered the day before, Daintry said, “I doubt that, darling. She is a cousin of his, you know. Moreover,” she added, remembering that Lady Catherine’s bedchamber did overlook the drive leading to the yard, “if she saw him, she must have seen that he was not dressed for riding.”

Charley looked doubtful, but Lady Catherine was mounted and though she still was arranging her skirt and had not yet even taken her reins from the stableboy, there was no further opportunity for private conversation.

When Clemons asked if a second groom ought to accompany them, Daintry replied quickly in the negative before Charley could commit another impertinence.

Daintry had seen from the way Lady Catherine mounted that she was not the expert rider she had claimed to be, and soon realized that the case was even worse.

Not only did the woman persist in clucking to the mare, a habit that would soon make her unpopular with anyone riding a skittish horse near her, but she held her reins in both hands as if she were rowing a boat and sat much too far forward in her saddle.

Glancing at Charley, Daintry tried to remember if the Duchess had any really dangerous habits.

Their ride progressed without incident for nearly half an hour, and Daintry exerted herself to maintain a conversation with Lady Catherine while the girls rode a little ahead of them.

“I am surprised that your brother and Sir Geoffrey allow their little girls to ride such big horses,” Lady Catherine said when they were barely out of the stable yard.

“My own dear papa refused to put me on one until I was sixteen, for of course, no younger female is strong enough to ride really well.”

Daintry replied vaguely but as politely as she could.

When Charley and Melissa increased their pace to a trot and she followed suit, Lady Catherine said, “Surely, this pace is too fast for them, particularly since the road is beginning to rise. All this bouncing about cannot be good for tender little bodies!”

This time, Daintry said only, “They do not bounce.”

Lady Catherine certainly did bounce, and knowing that only a very good rider might have a hope of matching her rises to the Duchess’s notion of a trot, Daintry soon called to Charley to canter instead.

“I know you must be longing for a real gallop, Lady Catherine,” she said, raising her voice to be heard above the hoofbeats, “but I insist that the girls increase their paces slowly, and only after they are certain the ground is safe.”

Lady Catherine did not respond, and not long afterward Daintry took pity on her and shouted for the girls to draw rein, knowing the incline would soon increase significantly, in any case.

As they came up to the others, she heard Charley begin to whistle rather tunelessly and saw Melissa look sharply at her.

Saying that they would walk the horses now that they had run the fidgets out of them, Daintry prayed that Charley would behave herself, since it would do neither of the children any good to have Lady Catherine telling tales of them when they got back to Tuscombe Park. Charley’s odd whistling continued.

“What is that child doing?” Lady Catherine said. “Ladies do not whistle, Charlotte. Gracious, what is wrong with this mare?”

“Sorry,” Charley said, falling silent.

Daintry looked at the mare, which appeared to be walking just as it should be. Catching sight of Clemons, riding behind them, she saw the man wipe a smile off his face, and grew alert.

As if absentmindedly, Charley began the tuneless whistling again, and Daintry, still watching the mare, saw at once what was happening. The Duchess had developed a limp.

“There,” Lady Catherine cried, “what is it? She nearly had me off that time. There is something wrong with her!”

Drawing rein and struggling to control her unreliable emotions, Daintry said, “Check the Duchess’s right hind shoe, Clemons. Perhaps she has picked up a stone.”

Wooden-faced, the groom dismounted and painstakingly checked all four of the mare’s shoes, one after the other. “Nothing, my lady. Like as not she’s strained that rear hock again.”

Charley said instantly, “That’s it, Aunt Daintry! We thought it was completely healed, of course, but I daresay it was still a trifle weak, or else she simply twisted it again. You will have to go back, Lady Catherine. How dismal for you!”

Remembering her duty, Daintry said firmly, “We must all go back, of course. What a shame.”

“Oh, no!” Charley cried.

Lady Catherine said grimly, “I am sure I would be perfectly able to go back alone, you know, only I do not know the way, and I would not for the world deprive you of your groom.”

Surrendering to her baser instincts, Daintry said, “Oh, we do not care for that, ma’am, I assure you.

Indeed, if it were possible, I should simply tell Clemons to lead the mare home and change your saddle to his horse.

But unfortunately, that animal is not trained to carry a female or even a sidesaddle.

If you are perfectly certain you do not mind, I confess I would prefer not to disappoint the girls after promising them this outing. ”

“I do not mind at all,” Lady Catherine retorted, “so long as you do not expect me to walk the whole distance back.”

“Oh, there is no need for that,” Charley said. “You must just let Clemons lead her and not permit him to go too fast.”

Daintry scarcely waited for the pair to ride beyond earshot before saying sternly, “You abominable girl, I do not know what you deserve for that ill-mannered trick.”

“You know? How did you know? Oh, isn’t it famous, Aunt Daintry?

I’ve never tried it when I wasn’t actually riding her, you see, and I was not perfectly certain she would do it when she hadn’t yet begun to do it on her own, but she always limps when she thinks she has been away from her stable too long. ”

“Charley, you are … I don’t know a word bad enough that I can repeat to you.”

Charley laughed, unrepentant. “Can we gallop when we get to the top of the road, Aunt Daintry?”

Daintry agreed, and when it leveled out a few minutes later, she led the way, leaving the hard-packed roadbed at once for the softer footing of the moorland.

The two little girls were close behind her.

Since she was concentrating on the terrain ahead, knowing there might well be muddy spots, even some deep puddles still, it was Charley who first saw the rider two fields ahead of them. Her cry alerted Daintry.

She had not the least doubt who it was, although at first he was no more than a dark shadow galloping against the horizon and looking, she thought, just like the centaurs of ancient days must have looked.

Animal and man moved as one, their pace so smooth, yet so swift, that they seemed almost to fly.

He saw them and turned so quickly that the great horse reared, pawing the air. Then, heading Shadow straight toward them, soaring high over the stone walls that marked the field boundaries, Deverill closed the distance rapidly.

Daintry reined Cloud in to wait for him, and as the little girls did likewise, Charley waved her whip and cried, “View halloo,” adding in a lower tone, “Lord Deverill is a bruising rider, isn’t he, Aunt Daintry?”

“He certainly is,” Daintry agreed.

“That’s how I’d like to ride,” Charley confided.

“Then you must practice a great deal more, my dear,” Daintry told her absently, still watching Deverill. He certainly could ride, she thought, and he was an excellent judge of horseflesh, as well. Shadow’s forward action was as smooth as could be, though no one could mistake his power.