Page 54 of Miss Dramatic
“God, you feel good.” He’d muttered that against her hair. “You look good. Luscious, rosy, rumpled, tumbled. Please heave me into the Twid, lest I become incoherent with desire.”
“I love it when you finally lose all that self-possession, but the sun will rise on us cavorting like otters, and then the whole village will be scandalized, along with all the guests.”
He gave her a squeeze. “Very well. We appease the jealous gods of decorum for now.”
Rose had to count to three—twice—to marshal the resolve to leave his embrace. She was soon dressed and trundling along the towpath, hand in hand with her lover, heart light, mind for once at peace.
“I need a nap,” she said. “Another nap, thanks to you, but when I awaken, and when you have ridden your demon colt all over the shire, we must talk.”
“Right. Talk, think, ponder, and plan. I thought it a sorry coincidence that Drysdale should pop up here in Crosspatch, but perhaps it’s an opportunity.”
Rose dragged him back when he would have marched across the gray mists of the park. “A kiss for luck.”
The kiss became very lucky, and then Gavin was escorting her—properly, of all the inanities—up the garden walkway. He parted from her only after ensuring the terrace door was unlocked.
“Until luncheon,” he whispered very near her ear. “Dream of me. And, Rose?”
“Hmm?”
“Keep an eye on Lady Iris. Something about her bothers me. When we were playing pall-mall…”
“She pretended to not watch us until you caught her at it. Then she did that silly little wave when she’s not a silly woman.”
“I have the sense I’ve seen her before, but I can’t place her.”
“As do I. You’ll be careful on your gallop?”
“For you, yes. I will be careful.” He kissed her again, and Rose lingered in the shadowed doorway, watching his retreat until he disappeared into the soft mists of the new dawn.
“Your colt’s stride is more relaxed,” Phillip said, nudging his gelding to fall in step beside a sweating Roland. The hour was still misty early, though the birds along the towpath had long since been awake. “He’s gained enough muscle and wind to enjoy the gallops.”
Gavin thumped his mount on the shoulder. “Roland has always delighted in a hard run, and he’s growing up. My boy will be ready for some competitive outings when the weather cools. I’m loath to turn him over to a real jockey.”
DeWitt was more relaxed, too, less… bleak. An evening frolic by the Twid was ever useful for restoring the spirits.
“Phillip, may I ask you a question?”
“You excelled at asking questions when you were a lad. Now you’re all manly silences and churchyard platitudes.”
“I bored the village witless for years with my recitations, and they were all too kind to tell me to shut my gob. I’m repaying their consideration with some self-restraint. If somebody were intent on parting you and Hecate, how would you respond?”
Phillip adjusted reins that needed no adjusting. Herne was to be trusted under saddle in all particulars, unless an inviting mudpuddle tempted him from proper deportment. Mudpuddles turned an otherwise sane equine into a frolicking foal.
“I expected a question about schooling a horse over jumps, not amatory tactics.”
“Mrs. Roberts and I became close shortly after we met. Somebody schemed to separate us or cause trouble between us. They succeeded, though Rose and I are sorting out particulars only now.”
“Rose.”
“Yes, Rose. If fate is kind and the lady willing, I hope to offer her the role of Mrs. Gavin DeWitt.”
“A prudent man would allude to rushing fences and misjudging footing in the face of such a pronouncement. She tossed you into the ditch before.”
They came to the turnoff for Lark’s Nest, and yet, Phillip rode on.
“She never left me that money, Phillip. Somebody else schemed to injure my dignity, and Rose and I never discussed it. She took my hurt pride for an inexplicable rejection, and then she misconstrued some remarks made by another member of the company. Possibly.”
“Dunderheadedness on every hand. Mrs. Roberts is an attractive, comfortably well-off widow. You doubtless had competitors for her attention, whether you noticed them or not. You were the centerpiece of Drysdale’s budding hopes for a London tour, and allowing you to be distracted by a wealthy widow was not in his plans.”
