Page 6 of Miss Determined
Dorning punched him on the shoulder, a gesture that imparted an odd measure of fortification, and Trevor was soon once again ignoring a London downpour and missing France badly.
ChapterTwo
The lady came galloping around the bend like the queen of the Valkyries running late for a ripping good battle. Trevor would have been knocked straight into the ditch had she not hauled hard on the right rein, aimed her horse at said ditch, and jibbed his quarters into the middle of the lane.
The horse, rather than leap the ditch and bound off into the adjoining meadow, went up on his hind legs, whinnying objections that should have been heard halfway to London. Had his histrionics been limited to a mere rear and a roar, the rider might have stayed aboard.
The beast was nimble, though, and embarked on a horsey country dance of bucks, dodges, and props that Trevor himself would have been hard put to manage. The lady’s downfall came as the result of a hard buck followed by a side step and another buck.
The rider went overboard in a heap of skirts and profanity, and the horse cantered off down the lane, head high, tail wringing, bursts of flatulence punctuating his victory.
“Madame, êtes-vous blessée?”Bon Dieu. Good God, rather. “Madam, are you injured?” Trevor had been walking his horse, who visually followed the miscreant’s progress with a wistful expression.
The lady got herself onto all fours, then sat back on her haunches. “It’s mademoiselle, and yes, I am the worse for that demon hell beast’s bad manners. My pride is sorely bruised, my dignity fractured in two places, and I shall have a prodigy of a shiner on my feminine grace. Other than that…” She shaded her eyes and watched as the horse farted his way around a bend in the road. “Fricassee of fractious four-year-old colt might appear on this week’s menu. The wretch was trying to bolt with me.”
“He’s quite muscular for four.” Trevor offered the lady a hand, which she accepted.
She got to her feet a bit stiffly and shook out her skirts. “My thanks for your assistance, and you will forget my momentary lapse of decorum.”
“I already have, and it was the horse who lapsed. You are truly hale?”
The word was too paltry for this magnificent creature. She stood at least five foot ten inches, though some of that height might have been attributable to riding boots. Her habit was a divided skirt, a style Trevor had seen from time to time on the Continent, but never before in England. She had eschewed—or lost—any sort of hat, and the setting sun turned Titian hair into a tumbling mass of dark glory.
“I should have known better than to get on that colt without working him first in the arena,” the lady said, giving her skirts one last swat. “I didn’t have enough daylight to do both. Roland is my brother’s horse. Gavin backed him at two, and he’s been allowed to languish since then. He’s not a bad sort, just green. As you and I seem to be without mutual acquaintances, I’m Amaryllis DeWitt.”
Her voice was a true alto, smooth and dark like a good Armagnac, with notes of humor, annoyance, and determination. Her physical nose was in proportion to the rest of her, and her curtsey was a brisk nod to protocol.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss DeWitt, despite the circumstances.” Trevor bowed and offered the name he’d chosen to use for the sake of privacy on this excursion. “Trevor Dorning, at your service. We are within a mile or two of Crosspatch Corners, are we not?”
“That direction,” she said, retrieving her whip from the side of the road and nodding to the east. “This road becomes the high street, and the Crosspatch Arms will be happy to put you up. If I’m not to cause a hue and cry at supper, I’d best be on my way.”
“Take my horse.”
She eyed Jacques dubiously, though he was a lovely seventeen-hand bay with excellent manners and a shameless fondness for apples.
“He’s a perfect gentleman,” Trevor went on. “We left London yesterday at noon, and I broke the journey into two easy days. He can get you anywhere you need to go and jumps five feet without hesitation.”
Jacques sniffed delicately at the lady’s gloved hand, his ears perked forward.
“He’s up to my weight,” she said, running a hand over Jacques’s neck and down his shoulder. “Stands quietly. Somebody has kept a close eye on his feet.”
“Somebody raised me with a modicum of manners, too, and I cannot abide the thought of a lady hiking home cross-county, alone, as darkness falls. Roland will soon be trotting into the stable yardsans cavalier,and that hue and cry you want to avoid will start up in earnest.”
“You are attempting to reason with me.” She gave the girth a tug. “Fair play requires that I warn you to desist. I do my own reasoning.”
“One commends your good sense.” Jeanette would like this woman. “I intend to be in the area for a few days at least and can use a livery hack if I need to be out and about tomorrow.”
Miss DeWitt untied Trevor’s saddlebags and passed them over. “You are proof that chivalry can yet be found on English soil, Mr. Dorning. My grandmother would have worried about me had I been late for supper, and I don’t like to trouble her unnecessarily. She was a hoyden in her day, but tells me repeatedly that times are different now.”
Miss DeWitt glanced about at the lengthening shadows.
“Even women of independent reasoning powers can use a leg up from time to time.” Trevor offered that observation casually. Miss DeWitt was tall, but she was also wearing skirts, and Jacques was a tall horse. A mounting block would have come in handy.
She led Jacques to the fence on the opposite side of the lane and managed the delicate business of holding the reins, climbing the fence, and getting a leg over without anything approaching a fuss.
“I’ll send him to the Arms tomorrow morning, and my thanks for the loan. What brings you out from London?”
“I’m looking for a country property within hailing distance of Town.” A half lie, and even that much deception bothered Trevor. The whole point of the excursion, though, was to gather intelligence on his real estate holdings without alerting tenants or stewards—or solicitors. Announcing that the Marquess of Tavistock was on hand to play landlord would have put period to that goal.
