Page 86 of Madcap with a Marquess
She grinned, running her gaze over the stallion’s rich chestnut coat, rippling over quivering muscles like a flame, like a blaze.
“It appears he and I are aligned then.”
The groom slung the saddle over the horse’s back, adjusting it and cinching the girth.
She ran her hand down Blaze’s neck, his muscles trembling beneath her palm. Yes, a hard run for sure. He was seconds away from jumping out of his skin.
She gripped the saddle with one hand and lodged her boot in the stirrup.
“My lady,” the groom started. “Please allow—”
She bounced a few times and then, with an almighty heave, thrust herself up and onto Blaze.
She smiled down at the groom as she settled herself in the saddle, Blaze impatiently stomping underneath her.
“I appreciate the offer of assistance, but I have always done just fine on my own.”
The groom gave a quick bow and unclipped the lead attached to Blaze’s bridle.
She held Blaze in check as he skirted out of the stable. But the minute his hooves hit earth; she gave him his head.
And they flew.
43
Rupert
Rupertstoodatthebottom of the steps leading up to Rutledge Manor, staring out at the pale sandstone drive as his mother’s carriage rolled to a stop. He drew in a deep breath and started forward. A footman was already opening the door and pulling out the step. Another had a hand proffered, ready to assist the dowager down.
His mother appeared, a bundle of lace, frills, and flounces in an apricot gown, intricately embroidered and covered in brilliants. She stepped down, and a maid hurried over, fluffing out her skirts. She stood ramrod straight, chin tilted up with what looked very much like annoyance etched on her face. Until her gaze fell on him. Then a small smile broke free.
He stepped up to her and bowed over her extended hand bedecked in rings.
“Mother, I cannot begin to speak of the joy that overcame me at your letter announcing you would be visiting.” It was amazing how easily the words fell. He hadn’t even needed to think them. Almost as though they formed as a conditioned response. He hid the unease that thought gave him behind an over-bright smile.
“Oh, if only you knew what joy hearing that gives me. I feared…when you hadn’t responded to any of my letters…” Her smile faded, and her eyes welled. “I feared you had decided you didn’t need your dear mama any longer.”
Rupert stiffened, though he managed to keep his smile firmly in place. Her words hovered between them, and she watched him, waited. Waited for him to acknowledge them, to deny their truth. As he always had done. But what would have prompted him to provide reassurance in the past now coasted over his skin like an icy chill. He couldn’t deny it hadn’t been well done of him to ignore her letters. But there was something in her shrewd gaze that had his skin crawling.
“That could never happen,” he managed.
He stepped back, and her gaze traveled over him, assessing. The all-too-familiar weight of falling short of her expectations bore down on him. There was still a slight shadow of a bruise under his right eye. If she noticed—
She nodded approvingly, and he breathed out a quiet sigh, grateful to avoid the disappointment he’d been bracing himself for.
“You look well, Rupert. The picture of the next Lord Chancellor, or if I dare be so bold, the future Prime Minister.”
Rupert hummed noncommittally. He truly hoped not. Becoming Prime Minister was never his aspiration. He simply wanted a meaningful role in Parliament. But the last time he’d broached that topic, Mother had fallen ill for an entire month. God, it had been a nightmare. Father had just passed, and Rupert had truly believed he was on the brink of losing Mother, too. At this point, he couldn’t risk anything ill-affecting her health.
Her eyes narrowed. “You appear tired, or… Is that a bruise under your eye?” The only thing that gave away her alarm was the slight rise in her tone.
Bloody hell. “It is nothing of consequence, Mother. An unfortunate incident. Almost healed.”
Her thin lips pinched, her gaze darting around the drive. “Where is your wife, Rupert? She does not even deign to greet her mother-in-law? She is somehow behind that bruise of yours, no doubt. What kind of ill-mannered behavior is this?”
Rupert clenched his fingers, refusing to give in and pull at his cravat. He had hoped Franny would get her frustrations out during her ride and greet his mother with him. It had been a foolish hope. He’d known that long before two hours had passed and Franny had yet to return. Which meant him mediating between the two most important women in his life was going to be an even more difficult task.
“I had feared she wasn’t taking adequate care of you. But a bruise, Rupert? You have beenharmed.”
