Page 10 of Nothing But a Rakehell
He’d never seen anyone ride like that. The pair of them streamed toward him, moving seamlessly, looking like one creature. Skirt and mane and ribbons and tail trailed as they flew over the earth. Gradually, she sat back and slowed her mount. As they drew closer, he could see her wide, happy grin.
“That was . . .” he stopped, at a loss for further words.
“I know,” the countess said smugly.
“She’s a magnificent rider,” Tensford said with a grin.
It seemed too small a word. “And with a side saddle,” he marveled. He watched as she approached.
“Good morning,” she called.
She had a marvelous seat. Her mare circled them, blowing slightly, moving with incredible responsiveness to the girl’s every movement.
“Show off,” her sister said, laughing at her.
“Keswick,” the earl said. “I beg leave to present to you,nota trick rider from Astley’s, if you will believe me, but my sister-in-law, Lady Glory Brightley.”
She looked different today. Not as stiff, perhaps. Her hair curled enticingly from beneath a jaunty hat and she wore a stunning riding habit of a dark blue-green that complimented the rich auburn in her hair. He waited to see if she would confess to their first meeting, but she merely sparkled at him, waiting with raised eyebrows.
He suppressed a grin and played along.
“It is a pleasure, indeed, Lady Glory. May I offer you my compliments? That was quite a display the pair of you gave us.”
“I’ll accept compliments for Poppy all day long, my lord.” She tossed a smile toward her sister. “And also for Hope, who was so wonderfully generous as to give her to me.”
“I shall endeavor to come up with a full day’s worth, then.” Looking at the way her skin glowed against the black trim of her coat and her crisp, white linen, he thought he should have no difficulty finding compliments at all.
She laughed. “Not a man to back down from a challenge, then? Excellent! Though I doubt you will have any difficulty, sir. I have it on good authority that you are possessed of a prodigious mental dictionary.”
“Glory!” her sister admonished.
“Oh, come now,” the girl protested. “It’s not as if I asked about his dangerous flirtations.”
“Neither did I ask what next display Lady Glory planned for us,” he told the countess. “Although I was sorely tempted to suggest riding low and on the side while she collected brass rings. So, you see, we are both on our best behavior.”
The minx looked intrigued, not insulted, but her sister threw a hand up. “I give up,” she declared. “One of you is as bad as the other.” She urged her mount closer to her husband’s. “I’ll ride on with William and leave you two to amuse each other as you follow.”
“Yes, let’s be off,” Tensford said. He looked to Lady Glory. “We are going to show Keswick the pit!”
Some of the brightness faded from her expression, but she nodded and urged her mare after the pair of them. Keswick settled his gelding in next to her.
“What’s amiss? You don’t seem as enthused as Tensford does at the notion of visiting the coal pit.”
“No one is as enthusiastic about the coal pit as Tensford,” she said wryly. “No, I must correct myself. Mr. Cutler, the new land steward, is also enamored of the project. He says it is a shame that Tensford’s father never pursued it. The estate might have been supporting itself for all of these years.”
“Ah, but then Tensford might never have come to London last year, in search of a bride.” He watched his friend lean, laughing, toward his wife. “He might not have met your sister.”
“And that would truly have been a shame,” she said softly. “The only thing they love more than plotting or planning some improvement to the estate, is each other.”
“Good for them. It doesn’t happen often.” Or last long, in his experience. But if anyone deserved happiness, it was Tensford. He shook off the darker thoughts trying to barge in. “So, they are passionate about the estate and each other. You are clearly passionate about your lovely mare and . . . anything else, Lady Glory?”
“No. Well, just riding in general, really.”
“You are shockingly skilled at it. Is that what makes you love it so?”
“No. Yes.” She shrugged. “It’s . . . all of it. Flying so fast with the wind in my face. Feeling the perfect three beats when you slide into a canter. A slow, lazy walk on a warm afternoon.” She reached down and patted her mare’s neck. “It’s the freedom, the companionship, the exploration.” Glancing askance at him, she asked, “What about you, my lord? You have a decent seat yourself, it seems, despite yesterday’s misadventures.”
“That could have happened to anyone,” he protested.
