Page 20 of Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman

When he caught up to her, it seemed he’d accepted her silent rebuff. In a normal tone, he said, ‘Belcher was probably right. I’m feeling infinitely better these last days, but if I had to shoulder a weapon or wield a sword, I’m afraid I still wouldn’t be of much use.’

Perhaps his nearness had rattled her normal sense of propriety, for she found herself asking, ‘Did you wield a sword when the pirate ship was taken?’

‘I did.’ His mouth thinned and his gaze went to the far horizon. ‘I served in the Quartermaster’s Corps during the Waterloo campaign, which mostly involved coordinating the movement of provisions in and around Brussels. We never saw any actual fighting. I hope I acquitted myself well when we took the pirate’s vessel, but battling for one’s life in a skirmish is nothing like fencing at Angelo’s.’

Amanda wondered if he’d killed a man. He must have at least injured some, if only to protect himself and his shipmates. With the grim look on his face, she didn’t dare ask.

In any event, they’d reached the manor. Amanda was about to walk up the steps when the entry door flew open and Althea, the train of her habit caught up over one arm, dashed out.

She stopped short, staring at Amanda with her hand on Mr Anders’s arm, her eyes widening.

A flash of guilt wafted through Amanda—as if she’d been caught kissing him.

Trying to damp it down and prevent a flush from mounting her cheeks, she said, ‘Thank you, Mr Anders, for a most illuminating discussion. I expect I’ll see you at dinner.’ Nodding to Althea, whose expression had gone from shocked to betrayed to accusing, she continued up the steps and into the house.

Chapter Nine

Two days later, Greville entered the breakfast room to find it deserted. In answer to his unspoken question, Sands said, ‘Miss Amanda rode out early to visit some tenants, but Miss Althea should be down soon.’

Conscious of a disappointment he shouldn’t be feeling, Greville nodded and went to fill his plate. He’d not seen the glorious Amanda yesterday. After awakening with his left side on fire and the cutlass wound weeping, he’d cursed himself for his foolhardiness in insisting on driving and spent the day resting.

He really shouldn’t seek her out anyway. For the second time, he’d almost committed the impropriety of kissing her, the urge to do so stronger than the occasion before, on the terrace. This time, she’d nearly initiated the caress herself, before sanity returned and she prudently broke away from him.

He should respect that prudence and keep his distance.

Except…he just didn’t want to. What was the harm in a little dalliance? an insidious voice asked. He wasn’t a green youth, to be catapulted beyond the limits of control by a simple kiss, and she had her cap firmly fixed on catching a husband much grander than him. A few stolen caresses would titillate her and gratify them both, after which she’d be off to London and he could concentrate on settling his own future.

While he wrestled with temptation, Miss Holton entered. ‘Are you feeling more the thing today?’ she asked as she accepted a cup of coffee from Sands.

‘Much better, thank you.’

‘I’m so glad. We hoped you’d not re-injured your shoulder avoiding the collision with Mr Williams.’

‘A temporary setback, no more.’

‘Excellent. The day looks to be fair. Would you like to ride out? I could show you the ruins of Neville Tour.’

After the irritation of his aching shoulder and a day of forced inactivity, the idea of being out in the fresh air was so appealing that he replied at once, ‘I should like that very much.’

‘Wonderful!’ Miss Holton gulped the rest of her coffee and set down the cup. ‘Just let me change into my habit and I’ll meet you at the stables.’

Not until she’d dashed off did Greville recall that, with Miss Neville off somewhere and unable to act as chaperon, he probably shouldn’t have accepted Miss Holton’s invitation.

By now, he’d had several occasions to observe the strain between the two girls. He suspected that, after seeing him with Amanda on his arm two days ago, Miss Holton had leapt at this opportunity to circumvent her cousin’s attempts to prevent her from spending time alone with him.

But the day was truly too fine to waste, so by the time he arrived at the stables, he’d decided he could ride while still respecting propriety by getting one of the grooms to accompany them.

Miss Holton arrived a few minutes later. She looked askance when, after the servant gave her a leg up, he threw himself up on his own mount.

‘You needn’t come with us, Billy,’ she said, a touch defiantly.

The flush that accompanied her words told him he’d been wise to be cautious. ‘I asked him to do so, Miss Holton. The consequences of our excursion two days ago reminded me that I’m not yet fully healed. If I should tire and need to return early, I wouldn’t wish to spoil your ride. Billy could accompany you home.’

‘I’ve ridden these hills and valleys since I was a child,’ she protested. ‘I don’t need help getting home.’

‘Perhaps, but you are a young lady now. A gentleman never leaves a lady without an escort.’

He bit back a smile, watching the play of emotions on her face as gratification at being considered a lady warred with her desire to refuse a chaperon. ‘I suppose I must bow to the preferences of a guest,’ she said at last.

For a time after they set out, Greville tried the horse through its different paces, seeing how his body responded to the jolt of being astride. Requesting the services of the groom hadn’t been entirely a matter of maintaining propriety; on this, his first ride since his wounding, he wasn’t at all sure how much stamina he’d have, especially after the strain of fighting the team to a standstill two days ago.

But after a mile at an easy trot, he felt surprisingly well, the familiar rhythmic motion paining neither his arm nor his side. Joy suffused him; for the first time in almost a year he was on horseback, surveying the countryside like a hale, whole, independent man again.

Soon, he’d have an occupation that ensured he stayed that way.

Worries about his endurance dispelled, he turned his attention to determining whether his speculation about Miss Holton’s intentions had been correct.

‘Will Miss Neville be joining us?’ he asked casually, pulling up his mount beside her.

Her chin rising defiantly, she halted her horse as well. ‘Do you not wish to ride with only me for company? If that is the case, just say so—’

‘Of course I wish to ride with you,’ he interrupted, a bit annoyed by her prickly temper. Still, after the way he’d watched her being virtually ignored by her neighbour, he could understand her sensitivity on that point. ‘You promised me a tour, did you not? Besides, I find you a most interesting and unusual girl,’ he added with perfect truth.

That modest compliment earned him a smile. ‘I don’t see why we can’t ride without her,’ she replied. ‘She was strolling with you the other day without a chaperon. If being alone with you won’t sully her reputation, why should it harm mine? I think she just likes telling me what to do. Ever since Aunt Lydia fell sick, she’s taken over at Ashton and ordered everyone about.’

Her tone was belligerent, but the vulnerability he read in her eyes touched him. She was an orphan, after all, and very much in her beautiful cousin’s shadow. He knew all too well what it was like to stand in the shade of a more famous and compelling relation.

‘She probably didn’t have much choice about taking over from her mother,’ he pointed out mildly, recalling what Miss Neville had confided to him. ‘With all in chaos and distressed by the illness and then loss of those most dear to her, perhaps she did not exercise that authority as lightly as you might have wished. I expect it was a difficult time for everyone.’

‘You can’t imagine!’ the girl burst out. To Greville’s alarm, tears sheened her eyes. ‘Do you know, they didn’t even send me word that Mama was so ill? And then, when I finally did get to Ashton Grove, she was—’ Miss Holton’s voice broke. Swallowing hard, she continued, ‘She was so delirious, they wouldn’t let me see her.’

‘She had contracted a virulent fever, I was told. Probably the family wished you to avoid the infection.’

‘Amanda sat with her.’

‘Had Miss Neville not already recovered from the fever? Perhaps it was thought no longer dangerous for her.’ By now, Greville was wishing he’d tried to turn the subject rather than enquiring further. What did he know about consoling a distraught young female?

Still, something about her—her bravado, her desire to escape being held to the rigid standards required of young ladies—reminded him of himself at her age, rebelling against a world in which the possession of wealth and property was everything, yet at the same time, priding himself on belonging to that ruling class, by birth if not status. He’d battled his relegation to an inferior position ever since leaving university—until a turn of fate reduced his existence to the most elemental level. His months at sea had taught him character was a much more important measure of a man than title and position.

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