Page 48

‘Do not ride Horatio!’ Lord Purfoy commanded.

His voice was forceful and overlaid with panic.

But just as Eliza thought better of her spontaneous action, a deafening crack of thunder overhead made everyone jump and Horatio reared up into the tempestuous air, whinnying in fright.

He bolted off back down the racecourse with Eliza on his back clinging to his mane.

She struggled to hold on. The reins were inaccessible, dangling down his chest, and the stirrups were too long for her feet to reach; she had never ridden a horse so large, so full of power and will, and Eliza was terrified.

The rain was beating into her face, almost blinding her; her hat had blown off and her hair was unravelling and whipping across her eyes.

She knew that being thrown at this speed could break her neck and all she could do was cling on, hoping this great beast beneath her would tire of his own accord.

Raven Purfoy lost not a second. He grabbed Taz’s horse and threw himself into the saddle to take off in pursuit.

He was in the grip of such historic fear, he could barely breathe.

The nightmare from which he had been in flight these last seven years was repeating itself and he knew his spirit could not survive the same fatal ending.

To protect himself, his heart so newly unfurled began to harden once more to stone.

Horatio was ahead of him and the small, bedraggled figure of Miss Gray was still lodged on his back.

‘Hold on! Hold on!’ he muttered to himself.

Desperate not to see her tumble off to lie under the flying hooves, motionless as a rag doll in the mud, he spurred his horse on.

Luckily this mount had not been ridden in the race and was fresher than Horatio, but far from as powerful.

His bolting steed’s headlong gallop meant Eliza and Horatio were soon approaching the starting line, having covered almost a mile.

The rain was still pouring down in rods, lightning occasionally zigzagged across a tumultuous sky and thunder rumbled intermittently over the Surrey hills.

The operatic heavens were reflected in Lord Purfoy’s emotions as he drew his horse alongside a tiring Horatio.

‘Hold on, Miss Gray!’ His voice was peremptory.

He leaned out of the saddle to grasp his runaway horse by the bridle and then slowed both animals to a canter then a trot, finally bringing them to a halt.

He immediately dismounted and put his hand up for Eliza who fell into his arms. She felt safe at last. The fear was over.

She had survived and now was held in the close embrace of the only person she ever wished to hold her so.

Lord Purfoy’s emotions were more complicated and intense.

Despite Eliza’s mesmerising proximity and his overwhelming feelings of protectiveness and relief she was alive, a primitive fear had the upper hand.

It burst out of him with force. ‘How dare you take Horatio! I’ve warned you before no one rides him.

He’s too spirited for anyone but Taz and me.

How dare you refuse to listen to me, to risk your life like that!

So reckless! So selfish!’ All the tightly constrained pain and distress of the past came tumbling out of him.

‘I’m sorry, Lord Purfoy. I was so ashamed and angry I just wanted to get away.’ Eliza had extricated herself from his arms and stood before him like a drowned rat, her clothes drenched, her fair hair down her back tangled and dark with the rain, her face streaming with water.

Lord Purfoy looked at her, full of life, her spirit bright as the sun, and gratitude to the heavens overwhelmed him.

With a catch in his voice, he said, ‘I was so afraid you would die, like my little sister, Elizabeth. The person I loved best in the world, the person for whom I was responsible. She disobeyed my order not to ride my horse and was thrown, her neck snapped in an instant, like a twig.’

He put his hands over his face and Eliza realised with a shock what terrible memories she had re-awoken. The rain had begun to roll away down the valley but the sky was still storm-ridden. She put a tentative hand on his arm. ‘I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me of this?’

He threw off her hand. ‘Because I could not bear to relive those days. And you, in your outrageous wilfulness, have made me do just that. I cannot survive such loss and guilt again. You are as headstrong and as reckless as she, how can I trust my heart to you? How can I love again, give myself to you who are capable of taking me to the edge of reason?’

Eliza gasped at the damage she had wrought.

He was right; her wilfulness and selfishness had brought them both close to the brink of ruin.

Corinna had warned her of her power over him and she had abused it.

Realising this too late, she was filled with remorse and overwhelmed with a sense of mortification.

‘How can I atone?’ she asked, her face taut with anguish.

His eyes met hers, distant and dead, as he answered in a flat voice, ‘By letting me go. Don’t fill my heart with longing, don’t haunt my dreams. Just leave me to my own designs. It has taken me the years since Elizabeth’s death to work out how to survive. I cannot return to that agony.’

Eliza could not bear the bleakness of such a vision. ‘Surely love is worth the pain. I too have loved and lost, but isn’t denial of love the bitterest of all?’

He had taken the reins of both horses and they began to walk to the makeshift stables.

The storm had passed and in the silver light, everything was renewed; the trees were sparkling, their branches dripping diamonds, the sodden turf as green as emeralds and somewhere, birdsong floated on the air.

But for Eliza and Lord Purfoy the storm had entered their souls.

Staring straight ahead, he said, ‘Loving you lifted the weight of grief from me, only for it to return today with crushing force. I realised I could lose you too and I prefer bitterness to demolition and insanity.’

Eliza had no answer and bowed her head, feeling her own weight of grief at what she had done and the gulf between them. He still did not look at her and asked, ‘Where is Polly, to chaperone you? Your recklessness about your reputation, your carelessness of your life, makes you dangerous!’

‘No one knows I’m a woman,’ she said hastily, tucking her hair into the back of her jacket.

‘I’m afraid, Miss Gray, you do not make a credible man.

You’re far too beautiful and your shape gives you away.

’ His voice was still matter-of-fact and cold but Eliza suddenly felt exposed and self-conscious, keen to dress again in her own clothes, which at least hid the form of her body from the eyes of the world.

Polly came running towards her. ‘Miss, I was worried you were caught in the storm. Are you all right?’

‘Yes, a horse bolted and Lord Purfoy rescued me.’ Eliza was suddenly very cold and her teeth began to chatter.

He took her by the arm and walked her up to her maid. ‘Polly, your mistress needs to be in the dry and warm as soon as possible. I’ll get Taz to take you both back to Nonsuch Place in my curricle. Five minutes.’

‘But you too are drenched to the bone, sir!’ Eliza protested. She looked at him standing before her, his hair blackened and spiky with the rain, the shoulders of his beautiful coat oozing damp, water still clinging to his eyelashes and streaking his pale face, and she shivered.

‘Don’t worry about me. It’s more important you get back and warmed up.

Shock too can be delayed. You will need some brandy.

’ He paused, his face harrowed as he said, ‘I have told you I love you, and honour you, and would hold you dearest in all the world. But you have flung this back in my face; now give me leave to go.’ And with that he strode off, the horses following obediently behind him.

Polly hurried Eliza back to the room behind the stable which had stood in as a makeshift dressing room.

She stripped her of the wet clothes and drying her with her own pelisse quickly dressed her in the chemise, day dress and spencer she had arrived in, and then wrapped Eliza close in her cloak, trying valiantly to pin her hair back into a passable bun.

Shock had made Eliza’s limbs as lifeless as a puppet’s, incapable of their own agency.

She could not bear to think that in one rash and thoughtless act she had destroyed this man, his love for her, her future with him.

He had asked her to let him go; she owed him that respect at least.

Taz arrived outside the tack room, driving Lord Purfoy’s flashy greys harnessed to his famous navy blue curricle.

He sprang down to hand Eliza up, followed by Polly.

They were snug on the seat beside him and Eliza once more felt the familiar warmth of Taz’s presence, so like the no-nonsense men she had grown up amongst. He set the horses off for the short drive back to Nonsuch and cast her a wry smile.

‘Well, Miss Gray, ye know how to set the wolf among the fold. Never seen ’is lordship so devil-ridden. ’

‘I didn’t mean to be so troublesome.’ Tiredness engulfed Eliza and she found it hard to speak as she laid her head on Polly’s shoulder.

‘Ye may not mean to be, Miss Eliza, but ye surely are.’ It was the first time Taz had offered any reproof of her and it made her already injured heart shrink under the flail.

Not another word was uttered while Eliza’s soul cried in the silence, What he requires of me will break my heart but set him free .