A Heart in Flight (8 page)

Well, at least her understanding was good. He smiled. “Perhaps not. At any rate, I’m glad to have the pleasure of your company for a time longer.”

Did he see a little flicker of warmth in her eyes? Or was she just being polite? It was most infernally annoying, being on tenterhooks like this. With any other female he would have known exactly where he stood. But with her ...

He put on his warmest, most beguiling, smile, the one that had earned him the favors of many London ladies. “Tell me, Miss Amesley.  Is there anything I can do to make your stay more pleasant?”

“Yes,” she replied, looking him directly in the eyes. “I have a great desire to go horseback riding. How soon can you arrange it?”

Chapter Seven

It was Tuesday afternoon before the Earl got around to arranging their ride. From her position in his arms, Aurelia looked over the animal that was supposed to advance The Plan.

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” the Earl inquired. “Your ankle ...”

“Milord,” she reminded him. “One rides sitting down.”

“True.”

“And I have such an inclination for a ride, a good rousing gallop.”

The Earl sighed. She could feel it along the whole lean length of him.

“It’s very kind of you to accommodate me like this,” she continued. If he backed out now, The Plan would be ruined.

“Think nothing of it.” He stood her carefully on her good foot. “Because of your injury, I shall help you mount in a different fashion.”

He put a hand on either side of her waist and lifted her quite easily onto the sidesaddle. For a moment she was busy getting her leg properly hooked, gathering up the reins, and trying to recall all that Phoebe had told her about riding.

Finally, she was settled and looked down, only to discover that a horse brought one much higher off the ground than might have been expected. But that didn’t bother her. After all, she had sailed through the heavens in a wicker basket.

She took a deep breath and adjusted the pert little shako hat that Phoebe had perched on her head. The green riding habit fit well enough. Now, if she only knew something about the actual act of riding.

The Earl swung up on his horse—a beautiful black creature, with glistening coat and tossing mane. “All set?”

She nodded. “Yes, let’s go.” She touched the horse with her heel and it went off obediently. Unfortunately, its jiggling gait threatened to bounce her right out of the saddle.

“Miss Amesley,” the Earl called after her. “Please, do not trot just yet.”

“Yes, yes,” she called back over her shoulder. She pulled on the reins and miraculously the animal slowed. Maybe riding was not so difficult after all.

The Earl’s horse moved up beside hers. “I’m most pleased with our work of the last two days,” he said as they rode down the lane toward the meadow.

“Yes, Uncle Arthur is very happy at how the repairs are going.”

The Earl smiled. He had such a pleasant smile. She wished she could be sitting some comfortable place with him, talking aeronautics. “But I still can’t see why you want to build a
montgolfière.
Hot air is so old-fashioned. “

He laughed. “Cousin Prudence doesn’t think so. She’s convinced we’re going straight to perdition. The whole lot of us. For daring to invade the Good Lord’s heavens.”

Aurelia laughed, too. “Yes, I know. She is continually reciting Scriptures to me. But she means well.”

For a moment they rode in silence. Then the Earl asked, “Do you think Harold means well?”

“Harold? I don’t understand.”

“Harold seems to be dangling after Phoebe. I am concerned about his intentions. After all, Phoebe is under my protection.”

So he had noticed, too. She stalled for time. “What makes you think this?”                        

The Earl frowned. “For one thing, they are always together.”

“Phoebe is much interested in aeronautics.”

“She is now,” he said dryly.

“Oh, no, milord. She had conceived this interest long before my family arrived. Before I arrived. She told me herself that she longs to go aloft. But her mama will never permit it.”

The Earl’s eyes gleamed with laughter. “I should say not.” He gave her what should have been a stern look if his eyes had not spoiled it. “Let us hope that the story of your escapade doesn’t give her ideas in that line.”

“Ideas? Oh dear.” Laughter bubbled from her and she clapped a hand to her mouth. And, of course, the animal she was riding chose that precise moment to leap forward and take off at a gallop.

Unfortunately, a good run was not nearly as pleasant as Phoebe had described it. To be bouncing up and down and sideways was most disconcerting. The horse paid no heed to her efforts to slow it down. It just ran, faster and faster.

“Aurelia!” the Earl called after her. “Miss Amesley, stop?”

“I cannot! Help!”

Sawing at the reins, she perceived that she was telling the awful truth. The horse had the bit between its teeth and was running for dear life.

Woodland and meadow passed in a whirlwind of confused images—a hassock of turf that almost unseated her, a low hanging branch she ducked to avoid, and, in the distance, a winding ribbon of stream.

The pounding of her horse’s hooves almost drowned out her own labored breathing. She could not turn her head to see if he were coming. She could barely keep her seat.

The stream was getting closer—and wider. Surely it would stop the horse.
But then, just as she expected the horse to slow, she felt it gather itself to jump.

“No-o-o-o-o!”

There was one long timeless moment when her body left the saddle. And then she was lying in the stream, making curious noises while she fought to pull air into her lungs.

The shako hat, which had fallen over her eyes, obscured her vision, but as her labored breathing slowed, she could hear the pounding of coming hooves.

She pushed herself to a sitting position and tugged off
the offending hat. Her hair came down, spilling over her shoulders and dripping down her face. She pushed at it impatiently.

Cold water was running over her lap and she couldn’t even get up to escape it. Her ankle was still too weak for tramping about the rocky bottoms of streams. She shifted. And this bottom was very rocky.

Ranfield pulled his mare to a halt. She appeared uninjured. Thank God! Sitting there in the middle of the stream, she made quite a sight. He felt the laughter rising in him, but he shoved it back down. A gentleman should not laugh at a lady in distress.

He dismounted. “Miss Amesley, are you hurt?”

“I think not.” She threw a strand of wet hair out of her eyes. “But I cannot stand. I’m most dreadfully sorry, milord. But I fear I cannot get up without help.”

She looked so contrite, sitting there. So innocent. And, strangely enough, sodden and rumpled, she looked beautiful. But where on earth had she learned to ride in that atrocious fashion?

He spared one regretful glance for his shining Wellingtons and then he stepped into the water. “I’ll have you out in a minute.” Wet as she was, he managed to lift her. But her habit was waterlogged and the stream bottom uneven. Halfway to shore his boot heel turned on a pebble. There was a brief moment of panic. And there he was—sitting in the stream with a sodden Miss Amesley in his lap.

A giggle escaped her. She buried her face in his waistcoat. Trying to contain it, no doubt. And he fumed his jaw.

But it was no use. Laughter overcame them both. And they sat there, in the middle of the stream, clutching each other, and laughed till they cried.

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally, when she could speak again. “But the expression on your face ...”

“No apologies are necessary.” He was loathe to get up. He liked having her there in his lap, water and all. But he had to be sensible. And he certainly didn’t want her to take a chill.

Gently he set her aside and heaved himself to his feet. His coat hung about him, a sodden mass. Water ran from his breeches in rivulets, and inside his boots it squelched between his toes.

He offered her his hand. “No apologies,” he repeated. “But perhaps you had better walk out. Lean on me.”

“Yes. Of course.”

She bit her lip as though about to burst into laughter again. He must look quite a sight. What a rare woman she was. Scatterbrained, surely the most horrible horsewoman in all of England. But also the most entertaining.

He smiled to himself. He knew no woman of the
ton
who would laugh in such a situation. Any of them would have cursed the horse and him—indiscriminately.

They made the bank safely, though not without a few giggles and coughs. She smiled up at him, those great dark eyes still gleaming with laughter.

“Thank you, milord. You’re most kind.” She looked down at his feet. “I’m dreadfully afraid I’ve ruined your boots and ...” A shiver overtook her.

He wanted to wrap her in his arms to warm her. Instead he led her to the horses. “Let me help you mount. We must get you home and out of these wet things.”

“Yes, milord. They are rather sodden.”

She looked up at him again, her eyes pulling at him. And that delectable little mouth crying to be kissed. He leaned toward her, almost mesmerized. Just one little kiss ...

Abruptly he straightened. One little kiss, indeed! Miss Amesley was a guest in his home. And she was no high-flier to flirt and play with. He had a feeling that Aurelia Amesley took things like kisses quite seriously. And, in her presence at least, so should he.

Aurelia shivered and swallowed a sigh. The habit was wet and heavy, dragging her down. But it was a mere hindrance. What frightened her—almost—was the look in his eyes. She longed to bury herself in their depths, to ...

His hands spanned her waist again. And with one great heave he had her remounted. The heavy wet skirt made it difficult to move, and her memory of flying through the air was still quite strong. To say nothing of the crush of landing. But she refused to ask for help. Lady Incognita’s heroines would brave anything to be with their men. Still, she had to admit as she gathered up the reins, the prospect of another runaway was decidedly unnerving.

Evidently, the Earl thought so, too. “I believe I shall lead this creature home. That could have been a bad spill.”

He swung up into the saddle, still dripping water, and started out, with her horse trailing behind. She was dreadfully cold, but she would just watch the play of his shoulders as he moved and admire the way his dark hair curled over the back of his collar. That should warm her.

Unfortunately, by the time they’d reached the house, her body had refused to cooperate with her mind. She was chilled through and through, her teeth chattering with a will of their own.

The Earl lifted her down. His arms were warm and safe. She wanted to stay there, close to him. But the shivering continued.

“Please,” she said. “Just help me walk. It will warm me.”                                 

“Of course.”

Pratt, with his usual aplomb, had the door open before they reached it.

“Miss Amesley has had an accident,” the Earl said. “Tell Mrs. Esterhill and Cousin Phoebe to bring hot water and blankets.”

“Yes, milord.”

By dint of much effort, and leaning heavily on the Earl, Aurelia reached her room. Because of her sodden condition, she dared not lie down, but stood, clutching the bedpost for support.

The Earl reached out, tucking a wet curl behind her ear. “Thank you,” he said. “For a most interesting afternoon.”

“Thank ... me?” Of all things, why should she want to laugh again? But laugh she must.

So, when an anxious Phoebe, followed by her equally anxious mama, rushed into the room, it was to the sight of the two of them laughing uncontrollably.

Aurelia attempted to comport herself more sensibly. “My ... my horse ran off,” she managed. “But ...”

The Earl did better. He suppressed his laughter and wiped his eyes. “But the animal jumped the stream. And Miss Amesley lost her seat. Better get her out of those wet things immediately.” He looked down at himself. “And I shall do the same. Ladies, until dinner.”

Before the door closed behind him, Phoebe was busy at the military frogs that closed the habit’s jacket. “You are soaked.”

“To the skin,” Aurelia agreed. She knew Phoebe was bursting to have all the details, but how could she tell her anything with her mama right there?

Ten minutes later the Esterhills had Aurelia in bed in her nightdress with hot chocolate in her stomach, hot bricks to her feet, and enough covers to make it difficult to move.

“Now,” said Cousin Prudence. “You just close your eyes. After a shock like that a body needs rest.”

Phoebe sighed. “I’ll just stay with her till she drops off.”

Cousin Prudence gave her daughter a hard look. “You’ll do no such thing. You’re coming along with me.”

“But ...”

“Now.”

Phoebe raised her eyes in a gesture of resignation and Aurelia mouthed the word later.

She meant to lie there and relive every moment of her not so propitious rescue. But all that warmth was doing its work, and before her thoughts got as far as the runaway, she was sound asleep.

When she woke, some time later, she was wearing a smile. In her dreams they’d been laughing together.

The door creaked. “I’m awake, Phoebe. Come in.”

Phoebe needed no second invitation. She hurried to the bedside. “Aurelia, are you truly all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Her face aglow with curiosity, Phoebe pulled up a chair. “Then tell me what happened.”

“The horse ran away.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“And it threw me in the stream.”

“I know that, too! Oh, Aurelia, don’t tease me so. I’ve been about to explode, waiting to hear what occurred.”

“That’s it. The horse threw me in. The Earl carried me out.”

“And that’s all?”

Phoebe looked so woebegone Aurelia could hardly keep from laughing. “Well, he picked me up and then he slipped. And fell. And we were both sitting there, in the water, laughing.”

“Laughing?”

“Yes. I was in his lap, more or less, and we just got to laughing.”