Page 18 of Nothing But a Rakehell
Relenting, he offered his arm. “Come, then.”
They strolled among the blooms until they came to a bench. She sat and tried to control her pulse as he stretched out next to her, his elbows on the back and his legs sprawled out next to the basket into the garden path.
“How did it happen?” he asked with a nod toward her skirts.
Her mouth twisted. “Trampled by a horse, believe it or not.”
His eyes widened. “No! Truly?”
“My father’s stallion. He was skittish. Temperamental. I’d been warned a hundred times to leave him be, to never go near him.” She shrugged. “I suppose I’ve always had a willful streak.”
“You must have put it to good use, to brave riding again, afterward—and to have mastered it so completely.”
“I was determined. But it took me a while to get there. The doctors told my family I’d likely never walk again. I had to fight to prove them wrong about that before I could head back to the stables.”
“That stubborn streak must be a mile wide,” he said almost admiringly.
She laughed. “You are the first to make it sound like a virtue.”
“I suppose you see that sort of reaction often, then? Others trying to treat you like a perpetual invalid?”
“A fair bit. It’s frustrating. But I suppose it’s far preferable to being looked at with disdain or disgust.”
He sat up straighter. “Over a bit of a limp?”
“To be fair, it is more thanbitof a limp. But I don’t know why so many have such difficulty with it. Women are often condescending—as if it is a judgment upon me and I somehow deserve to be lame. Men are more likely to be repulsed. Or to shake their heads in pity. One of my father’s friends used to say, ‘Such a shameful waste.’ every time he saw me, as if my damaged leg somehow negated every other aspect of my person and situation.”
He was sitting straight up now and frowning down on her. “The bounder!”
She shrugged. “Yes, well . . .”
“It’s ridiculous.” He cast a twisted grin sideways at her. “Disdainful and snobbish is only ever acceptable in cats.” He shook his head. “We all have wounds and scars.” A dark laugh escaped him. “Your leg would have to be attached backwards to match some of the hidden injuries I carry around.”
With a sudden start, he twisted on the bench to look at her. “Hold a moment. Is that why you’ve been in hiding? Because you believed that I would judge you as harshly? That I would react to your injury in such a fashion?”
“I . . .” Her mouth hung open a little. He looked shocked . . . angry . . . and growing more so by the second.
“After we met while I was hip deep in swamp muck? After we spent a pleasant day riding out across the estate? Did I give you reason to suspect that I might act so . . . disrespectfully toward you?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Then I must assume you’ve heard some of the more vile rumors about me—and have chosen to believe them.” He stood, his square jaw tight and his expression closed. “I regret if I should have given you reason to do so.” He gave a stiff bow. “If you will make my apologies to your sister? I believe I will dine in the village tonight.”
“My lord!” She reached out and gripped his arm. “Please, wait.”
He leaned down and spoke through his teeth. “I find myself a fool, Lady Glory, for believing you to be different than so many others.”
A barbed insult. Sharp too, for she registered the pain of it past her awareness of his looming muscular frame and the bounding of her heart.
He glanced down and sneered. “Your leg is nothing. Perhaps you think it sets you apart, but it is the rest of you that is so sadly similar to everyone else.”
She stood but he scooped up the basket and strode off, moving rapidly. “Lord Keswick, please!”
But he didn’t turn or even pause. She could never catch him. Slumping back down onto the bench, she covered her face with her hands.
She was an idiot! As the sun sank lower, she cursed herself. He was right to be offended. She’d acted no better than all of those who had misjudged her. She’d expected the worst without giving him a chance to prove her wrong.
Shadows stretched across the garden and the first stars had begun to wink in the sky before Hope finally found her, still on the bench.
