Page 17 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

“You’ve picked the rogue one there,” Xander called as he walked past the Duke. “No one wanted to test his limits. The last time I was here, he threw his rider.”

“Then he shall at least make this ride more interesting.” The Duke’s answer made Xander shake his head before he too mounted his horse.

The Duke of Hardbridge laid a firm hand on the horse’s neck and then patted him. It was both commanding and comforting. Then he did up the saddle, and the horse didn’t complain again. Stunned, Celia chewed on her lip as she watched him climb up into the saddle.

It was a display of strength as he threw his coat over the back of his horse, his biceps straining against his shirt.

Suddenly overheated, Celia pulled at the neckline of her gown, wishing it didn’t cover her shoulders so much or make her so clammy.

“Now, Lady Celia,” Lady Arundel said, appearing at her side. “Are you joining us in the carriage? We must be quick if we are to have the picnic ready for the men.”

“What is the route?” Celia asked, watching as a mare was brought out by the stable boy.

The mare was as of yet unclaimed, and she was a beauty. Tall and lithe, strong but not overbearing, she shook out her mane and neighed at the sky.

She is impatient to be part of the race.

“Oh, a difficult one,” Lady Arundel said with a chuckle. “My son always enjoys organizing these excursions.” She waved to her son, Lord Porter, who had claimed his own horse, ready for the race. “Each rider has to head to the old farmland, cross the lake, then ride up to the turreted hill. You can’t miss it. It has an old folly on top.”

“Very well.” Celia nodded.

Her eyes weren’t fixed on the landscape and the distant landmarks Lady Arundel was pointing out. Instead, she stared only at the Duke of Hardbridge.

He sat much easier in the saddle than most of the other gentlemen, who were stiff-backed and rather fidgety. In fact, he looked in his natural environment, as if he should have always been out here and never in that cramped house.

“I think I’ll join the race.”

“You will?” Violet’s voice sounded from the carriage. Beside her, Grace must have elbowed her, for Violet coughed, cleared her throat, and then said the same words without so much astonishment. “I mean… you will.”

“I will. I shall see you at the picnic, ladies.” Celia pulled on her small riding gloves, adjusting them around her wrists as she made her way toward the mare.

“Lady Celia?” Lord Porter hastened forward. “Allow me to help you onto the horse.”

“There is no need, My Lord.” Celia smiled, but he was quite insistent, stepping in her path so suddenly that she almost collided with him.

“Please, I insist,” Lord Porter said with an air of chivalry that irritated her. “Riding is no easy thing, My Lady. How would I feel if you were to fall and hurt yourself when you were a guest in my house?”

“I’d be happy to instruct you in how to ride properly,” Lord Crampton cut in, appearing at her other side and also offering her his hand.

She stepped back from the pair of them, feeling somewhat beleaguered by the show of hands.

“It is no easy thing,” Lord Crampton said belittlingly. “But with the proper instruction, I’m sure I could help.”

A deep chuckle sounded from across the yard. If Lord Crampton heard the sound, he pretended not to, but Celia certainly heard it. The laugh came from the Duke of Hardbridge, who was shaking his head at Lord Crampton’s words.

“You might be surprised, Lord Crampton,” Xander spoke up. Celia couldn’t help smiling a little when she caught her brother-in-law’s eye. “I’ve rarely seen as good a rider as my sister-in-law.”

“Well, it never hurts to have help.” Lord Porter was insistent, waving his hand at her again.

“I thank you for your… kindness,” Celia chose the word with difficulty.

To her, it wasn’t so much kindness on Lord Porter’s and Lord Crampton’s parts as an insistence on appearing as the greater and more capable man.

They are all showing off.

“Yet, I need no help.”

Celia swept her skirt to the side a little to reveal her boot. She heard Lord Porter’s gasp of surprise, and he looked away, though no other man did as she put her boot in the stirrup and pushed up, inadvertently giving them a glimpse of her calf.

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