Page 22 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke

‘I’m sure you did. Now, you go and sit on that tree stump over there and calm yourself. I will look after Master Anthony.’

And make certain Hal is as undamaged as he seems.

She walked back and crouched down. Hal, hatless and with a bruise already darkening over his right eye, looked up at her.

‘He is not hurt, just frightened,’ he said.

Thea nodded. ‘Anthony,’ she said firmly. ‘What is all this fuss about?’

The child lifted his face from Hal’s shoulder and stared at her, indignation at her lack of sympathy written large on his tear-blubbered face. ‘Big horse fell on me!’

‘No, it did not. You tripped it up by accident with your hoop and this gentleman fell on you to keep you safe. Now, does anything hurt? Think carefully.’

The no-nonsense tone was having an effect. The boy obviously made a mental review of his body inside and out and managed a smile. ‘I’m all right,’ he announced, sounding surprised.

‘In that case, you must go and comfort your nursemaid, because you gave her a very big shock and upset her.’ Thea took hold of the boy, stood him on his feet and pointed him in the direction of the maid.

‘You were very good with him,’ Hal remarked absently, getting to his feet. His attention was all on his horse.

‘I have several younger brothers,’ Thea said, then realised she was talking to the air. Hal and Hopkins were examining Juno.

Which was only right and proper, Thea told herself, as she went to join them.

‘Her legs are undamaged, Your Grace,’ Hopkins announced, revealing that he recognised Hal.

Thea wondered just how much the Wiveton family’s staff at knew about her parents’ failed plans.

Hal was running his hands all over the big horse, stopping at intervals to press his ear to its ribs and listen. ‘I can’t find any damage. Her breathing is clear.’

‘Good thing the ground is soft and you were on grass, Your Grace,’ Hopkins pronounced.

‘Are you hurt?’ Thea asked when it seemed she might finally get Hal’s full attention. ‘You have a nasty bruise over your eye. Did you lose consciousness?’

‘No, I know, and no,’ he replied, looking at her directly for the first time and smiling. ‘Thank you for your assistance, Lady Thea.’

She blinked at the formality, then realised that both Hopkins and the nursemaid were within hearing. ‘I could hardly have ridden straight past, now could I?’ she asked tartly, then, ‘You saved that child’s life. Your reactions were incredibly fast.’

Hal shrugged, and she was aware of the play of muscle through his coat, of the breadth of his shoulders.

Stop it. He is an attractive male, that is all. It does not mean that you have to take notice. Or yearn to touch.

Someone cleared their throat meaningfully and Thea realised that Hopkins was holding the reins of all three horses and gazing off into the distance in such an obviously tactful manner that it was positively embarrassing.

Thea turned abruptly and went to the nurse, who had recovered herself and was wiping the child’s face.

‘Are you able to get home now?’ she asked. ‘Or would you like me to call at Master Anthony’s home and have them send assistance?’

‘Goodness, no, ma’am.’ The young woman looked appalled. ‘We are quite all right now, ma’am.’

She would probably lose her position if the child’s parents realised how close to disaster he had been, but it had been an accident, not carelessness, she was sure, so the less fuss made, the better.

Thea shook hands with Master Anthony, who was politely holding out a sticky paw, and went back to find that Hopkins was mounted, his face a careful blank, and Hal was waiting to help her into the saddle.

Yes, Hopkins knows , she thought as she put her booted foot into Hal’s linked hands and was lifted up.

And if Hopkins knew, then probably the entire household was aware that she had been supposed to marry the Duke and had refused him.

Her parents normally treated the servants as useful items of furniture and were quite capable of holding highly personal conversations in front of them.

Thea was very aware of them as individuals with their own personalities.

She thought that their staff were all loyal, but she cringed internally at the thought of the gossip any indiscretion would feed.

‘Thank you, Duke,’ she said calmly, finding the stirrup, arranging her skirts and gathering up the reins in a manner that she hoped demonstrated that she did not require any further assistance.

He had been so very careful not to touch her except in the most respectful way that it made her almost more aware of him, if that were possible.

‘I do hope you do not have too much of a headache,’ she added. ‘You are going to have to come up with some convincing excuse for that bruise, unless you wish to be teased for having your horse fall over a child’s hoop.’

Hal swung up into the saddle. ‘I shall invent some tale of derring-do and a maiden rescued from a hammer-wielding villain,’ he said, straight-faced. ‘Good day, Lady Thea. Thank you for your help,’ he added to Hopkins.

‘Now, that, my lady, is a horseman,’ the groom remarked as they sat watching the tall figure canter away. It was probably the highest accolade he could bestow.

‘Indeed,’ Thea agreed. ‘But I do not think this is a story that should be repeated, do you? To anyone.’

The groom looked at her, the smile lines creasing his weather-beaten face. ‘I don’t tell tales, Lady Thea. Not about good men.’

* * *

That evening brought, mercifully, no social engagements.

‘I suppose we should expect it at this date,’ her mother said with a dissatisfied sigh at the thought of an evening spent at the dinner table with her own family.

Lord Wiveton, who would take himself off to his club afterwards in any case, merely grunted.

‘I am quite glad of the rest, Mama,’ Thea ventured. ‘We will get little enough of it once the Season begins properly.’

‘I believe that Leamington’s ball will signal the start this year, even though it is early,’ her mother said. ‘And when I think…’ She closed her lips tightly and glared at the épergne in the centre of the table.

Thea knew what she had been about to say. And when I think we could have been accepting felicitations on your betrothal.

She felt like sighing herself, wishing she had not discovered that Hal was capable of deceit to gain his own ends, that he was a man who would lure her into a friendship under false pretences because what he wanted was a convenient wife and she happened to match exactly the list of desirable qualities for a duke’s bride.

She might have decided she liked him when she met him for the first time as an adult, might happily have married him. Perhaps she never would have discovered the devious side to his character.

Although, she reminded herself as she drank her soup, she would have known that he was selfish enough to have left her on her shelf until it suited him to come for her.

Just because she was having trouble forgetting the way that he had dived to shelter that child from those thrashing hooves was no reason to forget why she had not wanted to marry him in the first place.

‘I am looking forward to the Hamptons’ ball tomorrow night,’ she said brightly. ‘I have high hopes of meeting some new and interesting people.’

‘That is true, dear,’ Mama said, looking more cheerful. ‘Daphne Hampton’s nephew Marcus is Earl of Porchester and he is unwed. He was not in London for last Season because he was in the Army and I had quite forgotten him. I believe that the Duke spoke most highly of him.’

‘Ha—? I mean, Leamington?’

‘No, of course not, dear. The Duke of Wellington. He expressed himself quite strongly when the old Earl died and Porchester sold out. Such a pity—he would look particularly dashing in his regimentals.’

‘Better, perhaps, not to be influenced by the false glamour of a uniform,’ Thea said. It was difficult enough to judge a man’s character without adorning him with that classic beguiler of young ladies—a dashing scarlet coat trimmed with gold braid.