Page 53 of My Secret Duke
Ivo hadn’t been at all certain she would take him up on this latest nonsense—he’d expected her to fire up and tell him off. Accusing him of all manner of things. Hard to believe that when he had walked over to the piano, he had only been going to be there for a polite moment. Instead, seeing her unhappy had made Ivo ache inside. He wanted her. He suspected hewasin love with her. The only problem was she did not love him, and if she was still determined to marry whoever her grandmother wheeled out next, then Ivo was only going to suffer more heartbreak. In temperament, he and Olivia were perfectly matched. In Ivo’s opinion she was far too worried about what other people thought, but he suspected she would say he wasn’t worried enough. There was just the little matter of her need for a wealthy suitor and Ivo being indebt. He wanted her to see that he was dealing with that, and the future was looking brighter—ifhe could escape the clutches of the Revenue Service and Mystere.
Ivo sighed. Who was he kidding? She would never agree to marry him. It stung because nothing felt as right, as perfect, as having Olivia in his arms. If they ever did more than kiss, he was sure their passion would light up the world.
Maybe he should call off this latest dare? A horse race! He had been riding since he was a child, and being astride a horse was as natural to him as walking, while Olivia was far from a confident rider. In fact, he could not ever remember seeing her riding a horse.
What was she going to do when she realized this time besting him was beyond her? Send Roberta in her place?
The idea made Ivo smile, and then grimace.
He was being honest when he had assured her the risk to her reputation was small, but if he was agentleman, he would allow her to back out of his challenge in a graceful manner. Perhaps he could even make up some prior appointment that precluded him from taking her up on the race? Or maybe she would swallow her pride and accept the impossibility of her winning. Surely a tumble from a horse would do more damage to her pride than admitting that this time she had overextended herself.
But Ivo already knew he was not going to forfeit, and he was almost positive that neither was Olivia. They were both too stubborn, and the sense of anticipation too heady. And he was looking forward to their encounter. Every time he thought of it, his heart lifted, and he found himself smiling. Life with Olivia would never be dull. If only she would love him back.
Unbeknownst to Ivo, Oliva was at that very moment attempting to master the art of horse riding. She sat on top of Mable, the quietest and oldest animal in the Ashton House stable, trying to concentrate on maintaining her seat.
It wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped.
“You look like you’re riding a tumbrel,” Roberta said in disgust. “Going to have your head chopped off.”
“Why is it so difficult?” Olivia complained. “This silly sidesaddle. It must have been invented by a man. I bet if a man sat on it for even five minutes, he would declare it illegal.”
Roberta frowned as she walked around Mable, no doubt mentally criticizing Olivia’s seat again.
She was not used to her younger sister giggling at her mistakes or huffing impatiently at her questions. The horsey smell was bad enough, but to have Roberta—three years her junior—making her feel small. Was she really such a poor riding student, or was Roberta just making the most of her role as expert?
If Olivia hadn’t been so determined to win Ivo’s dare, she would have given up by now. Where was the pleasure in riding a horse anyway? Why would anyone want to when there were so many better things to do?
“Wouldn’t it be easier if I rode astride the horse?” Olivia wriggled as she perched uncomfortably on the sidesaddle.
“Yes, and it is, but do you really want to be pointed at and gossiped about? Ladies ride sidesaddle—or at least they do when they’re in company. I prefer to ride astride when I am at Grantham where nobody can see me.Nobody who matters, that is.”
Olivia thought about that. Should she conform to society’s norms and lose the race? Because she already knew she could never ride along Rotten Row like this. Such a silly idea. And winning was what mattered, wasn’t it? She remembered Ivo suggesting a disguise, and at the time she had imagined herself in her maid’s clothing. But why dress as a woman at all? Why not dress as a boy? A groom? Breeches and boots made so much more sense if one was on a horse, and then she could ride astride without anyone caring a jot.
“I don’t think itwillmatter,” she said. “Not for my purposes.”
Roberta peered up at her suspiciously, and Olivia could tell she was dying to know what this was all about. Thus far, Olivia had fobbed her off with vague notions of learning to ride so that she could join an excursion into the countryside to which she had been invited. But Roberta would not be fobbed off for long. She knew Olivia was telling fibs, and if she was to get the intensive training she needed, Olivia would need to be honest.
“Youwant to ride astride?” Roberta sounded as if Olivia had suggested she dance naked at Justina’s coming-out.
“Someone dared me,” she replied uncomfortably, and then closed her eyes in pain as Roberta gave a shriek.
They were alone in the stables in the mews at the back of Ashton House, but all the same, she didn’t want everyone to know what they were up to. She had already bribed the groom and stableboy to go away for a couple of hours.
“Who?” Roberta demanded, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Oh, do tell, Olivia! Who dared you to ride ahorse?”
Olivia gritted her teeth. “The Duke of Northam.”
This time, Roberta covered her mouth with both hands to muffle her shriek. She danced around in a circle, her dark hair loose and flying about her, evidently overcome with mirth.
Olivia glared at her. “It isn’t that funny.”
When Roberta had herself under control, she removed the hands and grinned at her sister. “I knew it! Well, I didn’tknow itknow it, but I suspected it was something to do with Northam. It always is!”
Olivia sniffed. “Well, your suspicions have been proven correct, Roberta. Congratulations. Now, let’s get back to riding this horse. I have a race to ride, and it is imperative I win. He won’t be expecting me to. He thinks I can’t even ride.”
Roberta seemed to have a lot to say in reply to that, but contented herself with, “You can’t. Ride, I mean.”
“That’s why you’re teaching me, Roberta.”
