by Ella Edon
“Well said.” he chuckled.
“Thank you, sir.”
He bowed again, and Raymonde felt a flicker of brightness in her heart. He really was a handsome man, and charming, too, in his own way. “I don’t know if you remember me. I am Lieutenant Cutler Wingate. Lieutenant in the Norfolk Regiment of Foot,” he introduced himself to her again.
“I see.” Raymonde curtseyed. She noticed, along with his name, an absence of any form of title. It was obvious in a room where earls, marquesses and other titles were commonplace. She found it refreshing. Life with the Ton, even with Luke and Emilia, could be extremely stifling. “I am happy to make your acquaintance, sir.”
“Well, it isn’t making, so much as renewing,” he said, and she thought she saw a hopeful look in his eyes.
She tensed. What was he up to? Osburne had said gentlemen were either polite or lustful, and they had no other reason for talking to her. “Well, that’s nice, sir…”
He cleared his throat. “I was here last summer, if you recall?” he interrupted effectively blocking her attempt to extract herself. She turned back to him, listening to him.
She nodded slowly. “I do, yes.”
He had been a guest of Luke’s a year ago, like she had. And she did remember, rather well. She remembered his fall off a horse, and what he’d said when he woke.
He looked glad. “I’m pleased you remember, because…” he paused, looking down. “I wanted to give you something.”
“What do you have to give me?” Raymonde frowned, feeling concerned as he reached into his pocket, hunting around for something. What was he looking for in there? She scanned the room, looking to see if Emilia was near, but her friend was on the chaise-lounge, laughing at something Hestony had said. She knew she couldn’t rely on rescue from that quarter. She focused bravely on the gentleman in front of her, waiting nervously for whatever he produced from his pocket.
“This,” he said. He passed her a square of linen, edged with soft lace. She stared, and recognition slowly filtered into her mind. Suddenly, she remembered. The scene flashed into her mind, as bright as if it were happening in front of her all over again.
It was a summer’s day, the sun slanting down through the branches of a tall conifer. The air smelled of grass and hay, newly-harvested. She was dressed in a red riding-habit, the stays tight against her waist, a bonnet over her hair. She was kneeling on warm earth, her eyes squinting against the sunshine as she watched over a wounded gentleman.
He sat up awkwardly and blinked at her. “Auntie?”
“Are you alright?” she asked, biting her lip to stop a smile at his confused face. “I’m Lady Raymonde. Can I help you?”
He smiled back, a grin that reached out and touched her heart. “I hope so,” he said.
He had blood on his chin and it ran down his face, staining his necktie. She reached into her reticule and drew out a handkerchief.
“Here,” she said. Without even thinking, she dabbed at the blood on his chin. “You poor thing.”
She handed the bloodstained cloth to him as he lifted his arm. His fingers brushed hers. She tensed, as the feeling shivered down her arm and into her belly like fire down a fuse.
“Thank you,” he said. His voice was resonant and made fires burn inside her.
“It’s nothing.”
His green eyes, flecked with brown and sunlight, looked into hers.
“My Lady,” a voice said, interrupting her daydreaming. Raymonde blushed.
“Yes?” She looked at Lieutenant Wingate, hoping he hadn’t noticed her inattentiveness and marked her as odd. People already thought she was mad. She should know that. “I was elsewhere. My apologies.”
“Not at all,” the lieutenant said, his grin broader this time. “If I had a coin for every hour I whiled away in my head, I would be much richer than I am now.”
She laughed. She thought he was probably joking, but when she glanced down at his velvet suit, which was a little worn at the knee, she had a feeling he was serious. That, in itself, was refreshingly-honest.
“I would have thought you spent very little time in your head,” she said gently.
“Even if I did – every penny helps.” He grinned.
She giggled again. There was something so straightforward about him, so honest, that she couldn’t help letting her own guard fall just a little. She never thought to meet anybody who wasn’t stuffed with etiquette and manners, just like the rest of the Ton. Just like Osburne.
“Well, then,” she said gently. “If I bet you a coin that you still can’t outrace me, I might help your cause a little.”
“How so?” He grinned at her, eyes sparkling.
“By giving you a coin when you win, of course.”
He smiled wider, and she felt her tummy tingle as his green eyes met and held hers. “I’ll take the wager, but the coin is already yours, My Lady. I warrant you’re as fine a rider now as you were last year.”
Raymonde smiled. “I hope we’ve both improved after a whole season’s practice.”
He raised a brow. “We’ll find out,” he said.
She grinned, feeling restless. “When?”
“How about now,” he offered. “Why not?”
Raymonde stared at him in surprise. It was a shocking idea, after all. Not only were they here for the recital, but there was also the fact that she was a society lady, who shouldn’t be going anywhere unchaperoned.
What would people think of her?
She winced, recalling something else. Nobody could think anything worse. She was ruined in society because her brother’s flight from London —following allegations of embezzlement and other criminal activities. It had broken her reputation beyond repair. She looked at Lieutenant Wingate. Then she looked wistfully around the room.
The drawing room was lively, a place of groans and mirth from the card-table, and crystal tinkling and laughter from the chaise-lounge. The firelight bathed the scene, making up for the darkness creeping in as the sun set over the lawns outside. They, Lieutenant Wingate and she, were alone in one corner. Emilia, Hestony, and some of the other ladies were sitting on the chaise-lounge by the fire, giggling and sipping cordials. Luke, Lord Canmure, and two other men she did not remember, had taken drinks to another corner and were sitting, heads nodding or frowning, involved at the card-table.
She and Lieutenant Wingate were two souls adrift on an island of silence. Neither of them fit here.
I have had far too much of the Ton, and I think he was never included.
When she looked back at the officer, he was also staring out across the drawing-room, a faraway look on his face. She frowned, and he cleared his throat.
“I don’t think they’ll notice, if we go,” he said. His voice was a little sad.
Raymonde nodded. “I suppose not.”
He looked into her eyes and in that moment, it felt as if, just for a second, something in him, his soul, perhaps, touched hers. She swallowed hard.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go riding.”
Chapter Two
Getting to Know One Another
Raymonde felt the wind tug at the strings of her bonnet as she rode at a brisk trot. She felt alive up here, riding through the wild Yorkshire countryside.
She risked a twist in the saddle, looking back over her right shoulder to see Lieutenant Wingate, making halting progress. His top-hat cast odd shadows as he raced through the sunlight, trotting swiftly on the back of a bay, thoroughbred horse. She held her breath as she watched him.
Tall and straight he sat, his posture perfect for riding. She felt a sweet tingle inside her and she turned her attention to something else, a deliberate distraction. Tall, muscled and with a perpetually wary expression, the horse he chose was quite frightening. Raymonde gave it a healthy berth whenever she had to visit the stables. She recalled the same horse being Lieutenant Wingate’s last year. She wondered if he’d brought him from Spain with him.
Don’t be silly. He was a foot-soldi
er.
That, in itself, was odd. A gentleman – and he must at least be from a reasonable family for Luke to know of him – would usually never serve in infantry-regiments. Gentlemen rode. They never marched with the infantry. She tucked the thought away, wanting to ask him about it.
“Wait a moment!” he called out as he rode up behind her. “Whew! You’re fast.”
She grinned and stopped her horse. He leaned on the saddle, his breath heaving. She hid her amusement as he looked up at her. He drew up alongside her and stopped. His cheeks were pale, and she could see he was straining to breathe.
“Having a good day?” she asked innocently.
He scowled at her. “I arrived yesterday in the rain. I spent most of last night restless and tossing. Then we spent the morning letting Canmure tell us about his holiday on the Continent. What do you think?” His gaze was challenging.
Raymonde chuckled. Most ladies, she thought, would be shocked at such frank talk. Herself, she found it refreshing. A life lived with Osburne’s reinterpreting the tiniest nuance of what anyone said to her, made frank talk a blessing. “I suppose not.”
He chuckled. “You suppose correctly.”
He glanced at her and she felt a flush of color in her cheeks. His look was assessing, and she felt a mix of affront and pride. What was he staring at?
He looked away again. “You rode fast.”
She nodded. “I love riding.” She looked out over the countryside surrounding them. The Yorkshire dales were, she thought personally, the most beautiful scenery in the whole country. They sat atop a hill, surrounded by oak-trees. She could just glimpse through the branches the scene in the valley below, where golden grass stretched out over the moors, as far as the eye could see. In the distance, rugged hills broke the skyline. The clouds were a fluffy line on the cerulean horizon.
“You’re happy here.” It was a statement. Not a question.
“Um, yes,” Raymonde said, surprised again by his frankness. “I love the Yorkshire landscape.”
“And I hate Town,” he commented.
Raymonde laughed. “Oh, sir! That’s a fine reason to love it up here. Town is hateful, for certain; but don’t you think this place has something else to distinguish it?”
He looked out over the valley, as if he was considering what she’d said. She looked into his green eyes and thought he was making a show of indifference, but he had a softness about his gaze that told her he loved it.
“It has its charms,” he said. He looked back at her.
Again, Raymonde felt that strange mixture of being pleased and annoyed. What was he playing at, levelling that comment at her like that?
If he likes me, he might use some of that legendary straightforwardness of his. And if he’s being polite, he isn’t exactly skilled in it.
She turned back towards him, face stiff. “You call our trip up here a race? Or should we bet the coin on the downhill ride?”
He laughed, a little disbelievingly. “My Lady! You really want to race?”
“It’s why I came out,” she said levelly. “You challenged me to a race. I will race.”
He laughed. “My Lady, I surrender! You beat me on the uphill ride, which is more skilled. I have no yearning to see myself beaten hollow on the downhill charge.”
She thought his smile was easily the loveliest thing she’d seen. She felt her heart melt a little and smiled too. “Well, then. I think our debt is settled.”
“I owe you a coin, My Lady.” His eyes held hers and she felt herself a little breathless.
“No,” she said, when it looked as if he might actually give her the money. “Or at least wait until we’re back at the house.” She truly couldn’t accept money from somebody who was hard on their luck.
He shook his head. “No, I insist. Let me give it to you now. I have my reasons.”
“Why is that?” she asked, feeling her heart beat a little faster. In spite of herself, she found him interesting.
Beaming, he reached into his coat-pocket. “Because we never agreed as to the denomination. And a half penny is all that I have with me.”
She felt a laugh escape her throat and stifled it with a gloved hand. He was also laughing, bent over on the saddle, shoulders lifting with chuckling. She looked down at him, feeling a wild happiness fill her to see such unguarded joy. He looked up and his eyes held hers.
They were fell silent. In that moment, the world disappeared. All that existed – all that she saw – was pale green eyes, flecked with copper highlights. He stared at her and she felt her heart start to thud.
He coughed and she felt something shift as he looked away. She broke eye-contact, staring at her gloves.
“My Lady,” he said softly. “We should go back.”
“Yes,” she murmured. She didn’t want to risk looking at him, feeling her cheeks flare with blushing. He would notice and wonder what was wrong with her.
“I suppose we’re going to miss the recital,” he said.
Raymonde risked a glance at him, to gauge his mood. He was grinning.
“Yes,” she said, in between gales of giggles. “Quite so. How will we live without it?”
“It’s going to be very difficult, but maybe we can manage.”
They were both still laughing as they rode side-by-side downhill.
The day was cooler here, the side of the hill already shadowed as the sun set. The wind ruffled the grass, which was vivid orange in the intense sunset. Trees stretched their gray shadows all the way into a dark horizon. Raymonde shivered.
“I suppose we really will be late. I hope it doesn’t take too long to get back.” The thought of being stuck out here on the moor when the sun went down was not appealing. She started to feel afraid. Even on Luke’s own estate, nothing was assured of being safe.
“We can race on the way back?” Lieutenant Wingate said with a grin “And then when we arrive, I’ll give you the coin. A more-valuable one. From my wallet.”
She laughed. “I have a shilling in my purse,” she said, feeling the light weight of her velvet draw-string reticule, looped still around one wrist as she rode. “It’ll be yours when you beat me.”
“Wager accepted.”
He set his weight forward and he shot off. Raymonde, surprised and breathless, shot off after him. She felt her own horse, Whisper, gallup under her, muscles flowing smoothly. She patted her neck to encourage her onward.
“Yes, girl,” she breathed excitedly. “We can catch that silly fellow, what say you?”
Her horse snorted and set off at a canter. Raymonde, riding side-saddle, gripped the reins and felt the breeze tug her hair. She wished she could take her bonnet off and ride with her hair flowing in the breeze, like she did on the estate as a little girl, before Osburne saw her do it.
“Go! Go!” Lieutenant Wingate was yelling encouragement to his mount as she caught up. She laughed and slowed down beside him, giving him a fond smile.
“Having a good day?” she asked politely. It was a reminder of their earlier conversation.
He laughed. “Not much better than it was, strangely enough.” He gestured to the manor. “I’d give a lot to be in there, with Lord Canmure cataloguing the contents of the manor where he stayed in Geneva.”
She started laughing and he grinned and again, she felt that sensation, as if he was touching her soul.
She tipped her head to one side. “Ready to continue?” she asked recklessly. “It is a race to the house, after all.”
“I think Theodosius here has had a good rest,” he said, indicating his horse. “So, we can proceed, though I warn you, I only have a farthing.”
“I think you’ll be getting my shilling at the end of it,” Raymonde replied, laughing.
“Don’t be too sure,” he warned, and, grinning, held up a hand to indicate when they should continue.
“And… Go!” Raymonde shouted it gleefully as they set off. “Are you going to gallop?” she called back, feeling a little concerned as the day had darkened a
nd she couldn’t see the path. It was a foolish-enough time to be racing, she thought worriedly, without risking death.
“No!” he called back. “I promise I won’t cheat.”
“I trust you!” she shouted back, as he cantered on ahead. She meant it.
As she rode, taking care to keep an eye out for branches in the pathway, she realized that it was true, what she had said. She trusted him, more than she had ever trusted anyone before.