Page 57 of The Princess Stakes
Rhystan wasn’t surprised in the least. She’d always been dauntless. The girl he knew would never let something as life-altering as an injured spine slow her down, nor would she let anyone tell her she couldn’t do anything. His mouth bowed into a reluctant smile.
“Why is that?” he asked.
“I’m physically capable of it,” she said. “But the mind, you see, once it has known pain and associated that pain with an event or action, it doesn’t forget. If I go too fast, my instinct is to slow to a safer speed, which makes me lose the competitive edge. Fear is a rather powerful thing to conquer.”
Rhystan had the sudden thought that she was no longer speaking of racing. Though her face remained composed, he could feel the thoughtful weight of her sidelong glance. “So you’re afraid of taking another fall?”
“Aren’t we all a bit fearful of pain, Your Grace? Falling or otherwise?”
“You’ve never been afraid of anything in your life.”
He did not attempt to hide the depth of his esteem. Why would he? He’d always valued her mettle…herspirit. Sarani’s gaze swung to his as she faltered, her horse veering sharply as her hands jerked on the reins.
Deviltry tugged at him. “Besides, you seem to be falling for me quite happily. Most women do, you know. It’s inevitable.”
The horse jolted to an ungraceful stop.
“Good gracious, your arrogance is astounding.” Splotches of color skimmed her cheeks, but she kept her expression calm when she started moving again and regarded him haughtily over one shoulder. “I’m not ‘most women,’ Your Grace.”
“No, you’re not.” He grinned, clicking at his horse to speed up to match her increased gait as she angled her horse away from him. Her cheeks were blazing now, making an indistinct rush of pleasure gather in his chest. God, she was lovely. “Are you blushing, my lady? My word, the boatswains would argue that London Town has made you soft, cabin boy.”
She shot him an arch look. “We are not on your ship now, Duke.”
“I’m well aware of that,” he said. “Would that we were, however.”
In truth, he’d give anything to feel the salty sea spray on his face, to stand in the path of a hurricane, or even outrace brigands in the Caribbean Sea. Anything was preferable to the tedium of the city. Balls, assemblies, dinners, and hours and hours of incessant discussion on etiquette and suitability. He was sick of it. Sick of pretending to be someone he was not. This duke whom everyone revered…that was not him. Even the women his mother insisted on foisting upon him were wearing him ragged. If he heard one more simpering giggle, he was going to strangle someone.
Rhystan glanced over at his riding companion. She most certainly was not like those women. Sarani did not simper or giggle. She laughed with everything in her, full and raw and so sultry it made his bones melt. And she did not trifle. She always had something intelligent to say.
He recalled his mother’s intervention in the study earlier and fought a wave of disgust. Her thoughtless words galled him, but he knew she wasn’t alone in her sentiments. If thetongot wind of who Sarani really was, they wouldn’t hesitate to treat her with veiled disdain or ridicule her behind closed doors in their drawing rooms as they had her mother after she’d left England. If there was one thing the aristocracy loved more than celebrating their own importance, it was slander.
And by association, his family would be smeared by the scandal.
The gossip in the wake of the Duke of Embry taking such a bride would ruin the dowager’s standing in the eyes of theton. They would never insult her directly, but invitations would dwindle, as would her influence. She would become the subject of gossip, something he knew she loathed. Ravenna, too. The Huntley name would lose its eternal luster.
Who gives a tinker’s curse about the title?
He didn’t, but others would, namely his peers. Not that he gave a shit about theton… It was Ravenna he worried for. She needed to secure an excellent match and a husband who would look after her. He worried for his mother as well. For all her endless faults, she loved her children dearly and was steadfastly loyal to her family.
Rhystan shoved down his worries, determined to enjoy the few moments of peace and quiet. They were nearing the corner of Hyde Park. He rolled the knotted tension from his neck muscles. “Shall we have a race on Rotten Row? Last I heard it’s been significantly widened and new railings installed.”
“You wish to race?” Sarani asked, but her eyes glittered with excitement. “Are ladies allowed?”
He glanced down at his pocket watch. “It’s early. Most of the toffs won’t be out for the afternoon promenade for hours yet. And besides, a future duchess can do as she likes.”
“I am not a future duchess,” she said.
“A princess, then.”
She laughed, the sound hollow. “Trust me, no one here sees me as that. They see me as a strange creature, likely raised by wolves in some remote, vulgar corner of the world, whom the gallant and brave Duke of Embry doubtless rescued from a ghastly life.”
“Well, at least they got the ‘gallant and brave’ part right,” he teased. “You did forget handsome though. The gallant, brave, and dashingly handsome Duke of Embry.”
“One day, your head will explode with all that vanity, and that will be the end of you.”
“Will you mourn me?”
She grinned. “I’ll dance on your remains like the Goddess Kali did with her lover, Lord Shiva.”
