Once a Mistress

by Rebecca Hagan Lee

Her great merit is finding out mine—there is nothing

  so amiable as discernment.

  George Gordon, 6th Lord Byron, 1788—1824

  Wren’s first riding lesson on Felicity was progressing nicely by the time Kit and Ally arrived at the paddock.

  “Look at my mama!” Kit shouted, hopping up and down and excitedly pointing to Wren.

  Wren turned her head to acknowledge him and saw Ally’s eyes widen in shock at the sight she presented in her burgundy riding habit. She sat atop Felicity, her back ramrod straight, her hands lightly resting on the reins as Drew controlled the horse from the ground.

  Attached to a long length of rope, Felicity circled the paddock in a walk. It probably didn’t seem like much to an accomplished rider like Ally, but after the instruction in bridling and saddling and the tortuous lesson in mounting and remounting, of learning to time her boost into the saddle, balance her weight, and hook her right leg over the horn without falling backward, Wren was extraordinarily pleased with her progress.

  “Head up. Eyes forward,” Drew called out. “Loosen your grip a bit and widen your hands.” He nodded approvingly as Wren followed his instruction. He circled the horse twice more before ending the lesson.

  “Whoa.” Felicity stopped in her tracks and Wren rocked backward in the saddle.

  “I think that’s enough for today,” Drew declared. He dropped the long line and stepped forward to help Wren dismount. “You both did very well.” He rubbed Felicity on the neck and praised Wren as he lowered her to the ground.

  Wren’s right leg was numb and she leaned heavily against Drew, the sharp pins-and-needles feeling in her leg and hip sending tears to her eyes. Wren took a step and sucked in a breath.

  “That’s one of the hazards of riding aside,” he told her.

  “How would you know?” Wren snapped.

  Drew bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “I learned to ride aside as a boy in order to help the grooms exercise my mother’s favorite horses. She wouldn’t allow them to be ridden with a man’s saddle. I guarantee the numbness will subside in a moment. Walk it off.” He leaned close enough to run his finger down the buttons on the front of Wren’s dress and whisper in her ear, “I’d offer to massage the pain away, but we’d scandalize Riley and Miss Allerton.”

  “I’m afraid Ally’s already scandalized,” she murmured. “She’s never seen me in anything but mourning colors.”

  Drew turned to the paddock rail. “What do you think?”

  “Mama looks pretty,” Kit chirped.

  Drew grinned. “Indeed she does. What about you, Miss Allerton? What do you think of Mrs. Stafford’s first lesson?” He didn’t wait for the governess to reply, but continued, “I’m pleased with her progress and I must admit that producing one of my mother’s old riding habits made all the difference. I know it isn’t in keeping with her mourning, but until a proper habit can be made up for her, this one will have to do. I don’t think a lady can relax enough to seat a highly sensitive horse if she’s worrying about showing too much ankle.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I hope we haven’t offended your sensibilities by our seeming disregard of mourning customs, but I assured Mrs. Stafford it was temporary and that a fine horsewoman like yourself would understand the necessity.”

  Wren bit her lip to keep from dropping her jaw at the way Drew took complete responsibility for her inappropriate attire. And while it was true that he had provided it, he hadn’t forced her to wear it.

  “N-not at all, sir,” Ally replied. “I think the burgundy is most becoming and that you made a most sensible choice.”

  Drew blew out a breath. “Then, if you’ve no objection, I took the liberty of ordering the rest of my mother’s riding things aired and pressed and made available to both you and Mrs. Stafford. Feel free to make use of any or all of them.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Ally gave him a bright smile. “I appreciate your kind generosity.”

  Drew smiled at the governess. “You’re welcome, Miss Allerton, and your kind generosity is equally appreciated.” He waited for Wren to walk off the numbness in her leg, then handed Felicity’s reins to her. “Take her to Riley. He’ll see that she’s unsaddled and cooled down.”

  “Shouldn’t I do that?”

  Drew shook his head. “I want you to know how because an emergency might demand it one day, but the grooms at Swanslea would never allow a lady to saddle and unsaddle her own horse.” He opened the paddock gate. “Besides, we can’t disappoint Kit. He’ll want his mother at the fence cheering him on.”

  Wren led Felicity to Riley, then made her way back to the fence in time to watch Jem lead Lancelot into the paddock. The pony was already bridled and saddled and Kit was bouncing with excitement.

  “Are you ready, Kit?” Drew asked.

  “Yes, sir.” Kit nodded his head.

  Drew grinned. “Then, come on. I’ll give you a boost up.” He fastened the long line to Lancelot, boosted Kit onto the saddle, and began issuing the same instructions he’d given Wren.

  Wren’s heart swelled with pride as she watched her little boy striving to obey Drew’s commands and win his praise. Tears shimmered in her eyes. She stood by the governess and watched as Drew put the pony and the little boy through their paces.

  When Kit’s riding lesson was over, Ally commented, “Remarkable, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “How very alike they are.” She nodded toward Drew and Kit.

  “They should favor,” Wren answered. “Brothers generally do.”

  Ally shot her a skeptical look. “You’re his mother and in a much better position to know than I, but I heard you have a history with the current Lord Templeston and I want you to know that it makes no more difference to me than your supposed relationship with the late Lord Templeston did. The late Lord Templeston was the current Lord Templeston’s father and it wouldn’t be the first time an engaged couple anticipated their vows with long-lasting results. Or the first time a grandparent stepped in to avoid scandal.”

  Wren turned to the governess and Ally had the grace to blush. “Others may think Kit is the new Lord Templeston’s son. They may even have heard of our broken betrothal, but Kit isn’t his son and nothing anyone says or does can ever change that. No matter how much they might wish otherwise.”

  The governess’s eyes were full of compassion at the wistful note in Wren’s voice. “Forgive me for asking, but does that include you?”

  “Me most of all,” she whispered.

  Ally cleared her throat. “I apologize for prying, Wren, but I can’t help but notice the way you look at his lordship and the way he looks at you. And Kit bears such a remarkable resemblance… I value our friendship and I know I shouldn’t have presumed upon it, but I admit to a certain amount of curiosity.” She paused, then cleared her throat once again. “My London Season was three years before yours, but my sister came out the same year you did.”

  “I didn’t realize,” Wren said. “Is your sister a governess as well?”

  Ally shook her head. “She married Lord Telland. I lived with them before I became a governess, but, well… Lord Telland’s, shall we say, private appetites tended toward sisters. I left his household because I found the idea repellent. I love my sister. And she loves her husband. The very suggestion that he…would break her heart. But we were close before she married, and Lord Templeston’s courtship of you was the primary topic of conversation that Season. So naturally when he waited for you to appear at the church…” She shrugged. “There’s been a great deal of speculation.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “So, if you want to dismiss me without references for my impertinence, I would certainly understand.”

  “Dismiss you?” Wren laughed. “Don’t be absurd, Ally. I couldn’t do without you. Kit loves you and I love you. You’re my friend and a member of my family.” She wrinkled her nose at Ally. “Friends are entitled to a healthy curiosity about each other’s lives.”

  Ally nodded t
oward Drew. “Were you in love with him?”

  “Then, now, and always.”

  “And the late Lord Templeston?”

  “The late Lord Templeston saved my life by giving me a son.”

  “Come on, Mama!” Kit demanded her attention. “It’s time to groom Lancelot and clean his stall.

  Drew said he’d help us. Hurry, Mama, afore you miss it!”

  Ally laughed. “A grubby little boy is the only one in the world who would look forward to shoveling horse droppings.”

  “I’m not so sure the horse droppings are the major attraction,” Wren mused. “Look at him, Ally. He’s reveling in his brother’s attention. I’m sure Kit thinks that shoveling horse droppings is a reasonable price to pay for his lordship’s companionship.”

  Ally smiled. “I’m not one to ever poach on another’s preserves, but I am human and, at the risk of sounding very forward, I’d have to say I’d agree wholeheartedly with Kit.”

  Wren winked at her friend. “So would I.”

  Chapter Twenty-one