Page 29 of Married to the Lord

Chapter Eleven

“Gus Gus!”

Augusta grimaced. She was in no mood for talk of weddings or Henry’s return.

She stilled her grooming of Bella, a beautiful sable mare who had only been with them for a few months but already had the markings of a loyal and sweet horse. Oh Lord, what if her mother had heard of these rumors?

No, she sounded far too cheery for that and there would be no use of ‘Gus Gus’ if that were the case. It was more likely to be Augusta Elizabeth Charlotte Snow if she were in trouble.

She resumed her grooming of Bella, cooing to her while she ran the brush over her coat. “It’s so much nicer to be here with you, Bella,” she murmured. “Why did I ever think it would be wise to try to become adored?”

Her plans to show Henry just what he was missing had been a complete failure. She had opened herself up to derision from people she did not even like...not to mention what had happened between her and Miles. She could not help but think if she had just remained a wallflower, none of this would have occurred. Miles would not have kissed her and she would not feel as though she were tangled in a web of her own making, powerless to escape, powerless to make a change.

Powerless to avoid the agony of knowing she had kissed Lord Miles Ashwick and would never be able to forget it—even ifhecould.

“Gus, Gus, there you are! I should have known.”

Twisting to view her mother in the door of the stables, Augusta winced at the bright daylight that streamed in around her, highlighting her petite figure. Her mother stepped into the gloom of the stables and wrinkled her nose. “Miles is here to see you.” Mama pressed her hands together. “No doubt to discuss Henry’s return. You had better hurry. It would not do to keep him waiting.” She glanced over her with a sigh. “At least Henry will not see you like this.”

Augusta grimaced. She was dirty and likely a little smelly too. “Perhaps I should change...”

“No, no, no.” Her mother waved her hands at her. “He has been waiting for you long enough.”

Sighing, Augusta nodded and lowered the brush. She swept her hands over her straw laden skirts and tucked a few loose strands of hair back into their pins as they walked back to the house. Her mother indicated into the parlor room and murmured, “I will be in the breakfast room,” before backing away.

Why her mother thought she needed privacy with Miles, she did not know, but she could not decide whether to be grateful or not. At least then if Miles had something to say about these rumors, her mother would be unaware, but it would be much easier to remain proper with her mother present. Perhaps she might even forget that she kissed him and could not help but relive the moment over and over whenever she was alone. Alas, she could hardly ask her mother to remain for such reasons.

Drawing her shoulders straight, she entered the drawing room. Miles struck a masculine feature against the pale blues and silvers of the room. Hands clasped behind his back, he stood straight, eyeing a painting of a battle at sea. He turned when one of the floorboards creaked beneath her feet and his lips curved.

“It seems those horses warrant more attention than I do.”

“I came as soon as my mother informed me you were here.” She pressed clammy hands down her skirts, wishing she’d changed. “Thank you for ensuring I’m thoroughly aware of my unkempt state.”

His smile broadened. “If it helps, I rather like you in this state. Straw suits you better than flowers or feathers.” He closed the gap between them, so swiftly that her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. He reached for her and she froze. Was he going to kiss her? Embrace her? When her mother was in the next room and the doors were wide open?

He tugged something from her hair and brandished it in front of her. She let herself sag a little. Hay. A mere strand of hay.

He twisted it in his fingers, eyeing it. “A rare thing that a woman can look more beautiful coming straight from the stables,” he mused.

Augusta felt the blush in her cheeks. “Why do you have to say such things?” she murmured.

“I thought all women liked to be called beautiful.”

“When you say things like that it makes it hard to...” Oh Lord, what was she admitting? She stepped away and went to the window, letting the slight breeze that stole through the open window cool her heated face. “What was it you wished to speak of?” She kept her gaze on the gardens but hardly saw a thing, too aware of his large presence growing near.

He had to be a few feet from her—enough to be perfectly proper—but the hairs on the back of her neck tingled. Miles remained silent long enough for her to be forced to turn around.

“Miles?”

For the briefest of moments, there was something soft in his intense gaze. It vanished quickly behind that constant quizzical look, as though he was forever trying to hide some part of him. Sometimes she wondered if that was why he teased her so—because he feared her seeing whatever was underneath.

“Jenkins was behind the rumors.”

Augusta pressed a hand to her stomach. “For certain?”

“I have yet to...speak with the man but I am certain enough.”

“Oh Lord.” She sank onto the nearest chair and placed her head in her hands. “This is all my fault.”

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