“Bloody hell, woman!” Aubrey finally managed, his face regaining a bit of its color at last.
“Did I frighten you?” she asked, still giggling as Mulberry snorted and panted beneath her.
Aubrey led Bernard over to the edge of the creek, shaking his head. “Out of my wits. Damnation, Grace.” He laughed once and shook his head once more. “You are a magnificent, bold, terrifying rider, and certainly the best female rider I know. I have never been more stunned in my entire life, and I freely admit it.”
Grace beamed, moving Mulberry to the creek bed. “What do you think I did all those days at Withrow when I had become accomplished and had no company to assess me?”
He ran a hand over his face, laughing more easily. “Did you ever jump the great fallen tree on Breyerly? You must have done. Attempted, at least.”
“Attempted,” Grace admitted with a dip of her chin, “and succeeded. Often.”
Aubrey’s broad grin could have been made of pure sunshine. “Of course, you did. Well, well, Grace Morledge, this changes the game almost entirely.”
She tilted her head, feeling a bemused smile cross her lips. “How so, sir?”
He bit his lip for the faintest moment, and something tugged in her heart as he did so, then it passed. “Because now I can raise the stakes without being ungentlemanly.”
“What, and best me in a race?” She tossed her head back and laughed. “Don’t you dare tell me you were being gentlemanly then. I saw your efforts.”
“No, no,” he allowed, patting Bernard as the horse shuffled uneasily. “I was not. But you are not the only one who spent a lot of time riding across the Derbyshire countryside, let alone our two estates. I will ask you one question. Can you ride astride?”
Grace’s lips parted in surprise, then curved to one side as her cheeks heated a touch. “The current fashions render such things markedly uncomfortable. Markedly.”
Aubrey’s gaze remained steady, his expression unchanging. “Yes, I’d imagine so, but can you?”
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Prove it.”
The challenge was no surprise, but Grace wasn’t an idiot. “Will that be counted a flaw? You are considered polite company, after all.”
He scoffed at that. “Fault-finding be damned; I want to see what you can do.”
Well, in that case…
Maintaining eye contact with Aubrey, Grace shifted her right leg beneath her extensive habit skirts, sliding it from its position at the pommel across to drape tightly on the other side. Pressing herself up from the horse, she rearranged her skirts as best as she could, and, with only her ankles being exposed, settled herself back into the saddle. Then, she nudged Mulberry across the creek, which the horse did with no trouble whatsoever.
Once she reached Aubrey, Grace tilted her head in invitation. “Satisfied?”
He looked her over thoroughly, his eyes gleaming when they finally reached hers again. “Perfectly so. You have the loveliest ankles I’ve ever seen.”
“And how many pairs have you seen?” she queried with a snort.
One shoulder lifted casually. “Enough. There is a particularly lovely gazebo at the north end of the estate, I am told. Shall we race there?”
Grace nodded once. “Yes. Let’s.” With a quick whack of her crop, Mulberry shot off. Aubrey and Bernard were just behind them, hooves pounding the ground once again.
It was better than he could ever have imagined. If he closed his eyes, he could have been back at Breyerly, and he and Grace would have been riding in a companionable manner there. The racing done, they’d begun meandering the grounds of Darefield on horseback, chatting as any old friends might have done and laughing uproariously about this thing or that.
Except he and Grace had never been old friends. Yet the comfort, enjoyment, and ease were the same.
Unless he looked her in the eye, of course, and then his mind became shrouded in fog and babbled within him like the brook at Breyerly. So long as he avoided that, he was safe.
Marginally.
She was a vision in her riding habit, which he had never considered to be a particularly fetching ensemble on most women, but on Grace it was so. Very much so. Least of all, because she was such a marvelous rider, and he had spent far too long having his vision hindered, or improved, by the sight of her ahead of him.
For the present, he was himself, and he would have been perfectly content to do nothing more than talk with Grace for hours on end. He actually felt himself disappointed when he saw that they were back at Darefield itself, and that Janet and Francis waited for them on the terrace.
He couldn’t tell Grace that, however.
He cleared his throat and tried for his usual grin. “Our chaperones await us. Do you think we’ll be scolded?”
Grace looked where he indicated, and he saw her deflate a little in the saddle. “Oh. I forgot all about them. I was too wrapped up in enjoying our riding and conversation to recall our true purpose.” She smiled at him without any hint of teasing or humor. “Fancy that.”
Aubrey couldn’t breathe for a number of heartbeats, his eyes raking over her features, taking in every single blessed aspect of such a smile in his direction.
She felt it, too.
“Fancy that,” he echoed softly, his lips barely moving.
Her eyes widened slightly, and the smile froze, perfect lips still in their perfect position. The sun came out from behind a cloud then and seemed to beam solely on the person of Grace Morledge, no doubt one of its favorite targets. She glowed with it, and one blink of her long lashes sent a wash of sensation over him.
If he were only closer…
“The picnic is not quite ready,” Janet called out to them, breaking the moment, “but what would you say to a bit of dancing while we wait? No doubt that was on the list?”
Aubrey jerked to look at the Sterlings, his mind working backwards. Dancing? Did he dance? Was he supposed to dance?
“I’m happy to partner with Grace myself,” Francis broke in, giving Aubrey a slight smile, “if that would make things easier.”
Easier? Oh, hell no.
“And have my subject return home to her father with bruised and broken toes?” he retorted, coming to himself. “I think not. You will stand safely by the piano with your wife, sir.”
Francis laughed to himself, glancing at Grace, which forced Aubrey to do the same.
She had recovered entirely from whatever moment that had been between them and was grinning with good humor at him.
“You want me to dance in my riding habit?” she asked, feigning disbelief. “Do you see this rig?”
He did, and he saw the bits of her leg exposed as she sat astride, which delighted him to no end. “Surely a bit of fabric will not hinder you.”
She glowered, despite her smile. “Let me put a bit of fabric in your mouth or around your neck and see how hindered you are.”
Aubrey tugged lightly at his cravat. “There is a bit of fabric around my neck. Sundrey insisted.”
Grace pursed her lips and shook her head as she pulled Mulberry to a stop. Two stable hands immediately came to them.
Aubrey dismounted quickly, not entirely sure what his purpose was until he found himself rounding Bernard and standing right before Grace, who was sliding her right leg back over the saddle. Her face was creased with irritation and focus as she tried to maneuver the thing without being indecent.
She saw him standing there and stuck out her tongue. “I blame you entirely for this.”
He chuckled and held out his hands. “I’ll take it, and I’ll have you know, it was well worth it.”
She paused, then gave a small, but distinctly proud smile. “It was, wasn’t it?”
She had no idea.
When she’d finally brought her leg around, she reached for his hands. He surprised her, and himself, however, by stepping forward and taking her waist in his hands and pulling her down. She came flush with him on a surprised rush of air, her hands flying t
o his shoulders and gripping for steadiness. Her eyes were luminous at this proximity, and her lips fuller than he had thought only scant moments ago. He could feel each breath that passed through her, every brush of her buttons against his chest, and the shockingly natural size of her waist. Yes, she was wearing stays, but the tension there…
He swallowed and saw her do the same, then stepped back, bowed, and exhaled while his face was lowered. “My lady, might I have whatever dance Janet will force us to endure?”
Grace hesitated for just a hair longer than he was comfortable with, then put her hand in his. He could feel the faint tremor in it, but chose to ignore it, as he was quite certain he had tremors in various places himself.
“Oh, why not?” Grace eventually quipped.
Aubrey rose to his full stature, made a show of leading her up the terrace steps, and then into the house. They said nothing as they moved, for which he was grateful. He needed time to collect himself, to put on his more playful self, and to forget that the woman beside him was growing more and more attractive, more admired, and more important with every moment in her company.
The fact that her fingers were in his hand and curling around his own in what was likely an involuntary manner, and that it made portions of his toes tingle, did not help matters.
But he was willing to sacrifice that much.
Francis and Janet were chattering on about something, but Aubrey could not spare the use of his ears at the present. Not when he had to prepare to dance with Grace Morledge, of all people, and pretend that he needed to find a fault in it. As if he was in a mindset to find faults at all.
As if there were any faults to find.
They entered a large room with a harp and pianoforte and plenty of space for a small group to dance, given that the furniture had all been shifted to one side.
Aubrey eyed the arrangement and gave Francis an amused look. “Interesting seating arrangement. Are you all so keen on unplanned dancing occurring that you actually plan for it ahead of time?”
Francis returned that look with false irritation. “Well, I must practice, mustn’t I? If you consider me such a danger to dance partners.”
“Having never partnered with you, sir, I cannot say one way or the other,” Aubrey replied politely, drawing soft giggles from Grace.
Janet shook her head and sat at the piano, looking at Grace with sympathy. “I’d offer you a third gentleman for a partner, if only I had one.”
Grace nodded in acknowledgement. “I shall endeavor to endure this as best I can.”
Aubrey grinned and turned to face Grace, releasing her hand at last. “You’ll enjoy this,” he promised.
She quirked a brow. “That’s what you think.”
Janet struck up a jaunty tune, and Aubrey took Grace’s hands, proceeding to move with her in a large circle as though joined by other couples. He released her hands to wave Francis over so that he might stand in where and as needed, then linked arms with him to shift right then left before releasing him and moving around Grace. She returned the motion by having Francis portray a fellow female, repeating the same pattern they had done. Then she and Aubrey joined hands and promenaded around the circle, skipping, as the dance required, and pausing to spin each other about once, twice, three times.
“Very lively, Miss Morledge,” Aubrey declared as he turned himself about before her. “Spritely, even.”
She pursed her lips on a laugh. “And you as well, Lord Ingram,” she replied as she turned herself about. “I may have to dance with you again when there are an appropriate number of other dancers.”
“I beg your pardon,” Francis protested jovially as he tapped his foot, waiting for his part once more.
Grace laughed in earnest then, dropping her head back as Aubrey took her hands and began the whole pattern once more, her feet taking on an even livelier step this time around. And though Aubrey was not the keenest dancer, he found himself laughing more often the longer they danced, and he was desperate to make Grace laugh more. He and Francis made a great show of their parts, which she echoed in her own as best as she could, and around and around all of them went as Janet played, laughing from her corner.
On the last circuit, as Aubrey and Grace turned each other around, laughter rampant on both their faces, Aubrey felt his heart and stomach shift in opposite directions, his eyes fixed on Grace. Her color was high, and her hair was losing its hold even further beyond what the riding had done. Her grip on his hands was firm and sure, and every giggle she emitted took on a tone more musical than anything Janet was playing.
Had any dance ever felt like this? As though he could have danced with her, and only her, for the rest of his life?
To see her like this… There wasn’t a more stirring sight.
The jig was followed by a country dance, which, again, required Francis as a stand-in for other couples, which he attempted to do with great comedic effect. Aubrey found it harder to laugh this time around, but had no trouble smiling just as much, if not more. He couldn’t help it; he had to smile at Grace. Dancing with Grace. Being with Grace.
Every touch of their hands sent warmth into his chest, and every time she passed him, his breath caught. Every promenade felt significant; every turn made him miss her. Every time she partnered with Francis made him want to snarl, and every time she returned to him, his knees shook. He was no longer sure what his feet were doing, as he could only feel the heat of his hands and the pounding of his heart.
And he was supposed to waltz with her eventually? He would burn alive!
Finally, Janet had mercy on him by ending the song, laughing merrily at the lot of them, and Aubrey forced himself to laugh with the rest. In truth, however, he was scared out of his mind, down to his very core. The goddess had become a tangible, significant being in his life and affections, her effects no less potent, but carrying far more meaning for him.
Mere mortal that he was, it was only natural, he supposed. Suddenly, he understood every story from the Romans and Greeks regarding the relations between the mortal and the divine, and he found new terror in the usually disastrous endings. But as he looked at Grace, leaning against the tall windows near them, a hand wrapping about her waist as she tried to catch her breath, still laughing, he found his fear fading in slow waves.
It could only be right. All of this, any of this, could only be right. Whatever suffering his dealings with this goddess brought him, it would all be worth it.
And suddenly he was smiling again.
“Well,” he boomed as he patted his own chest, “I do think that is enough exercise for one day. I’ll likely be considered a sportsman if I continue on.”
“God forbid you wear that label,” Grace returned with a tired smile. “Whatever would people say?”
“I’d like to avoid even the hypotheticals,” he insisted. He looked at Janet with a sheepish expression. “Might our picnic be ready, my lady? I am quite famished.”
Janet laughed and rose from the chair. “I’m sure it is. Come on, we’ll have it brought outside, as the day is so fine. And if you can bear it, we thought we’d play some lawn games after we’ve eaten.”
“And rested,” Francis added with a wipe of his non-perspiring brow.
Aubrey put his hands on his hips. “What say you, Grace? Shall we take up arms against the Sterlings in a battle of lawn games?”
Grace sauntered towards them, hands behind her back, wearing the same expression she’d worn when she’d switched from sidesaddle to astride, which sank his stomach most shakily into his thighs. “I’ll warn you, I’m not very good at those.”
“The way you’re not very good at other things?” he asked with all dubiousness. “I see.”
Her lips quirked. “No, I mean I am really not very good.”
Aubrey gave her an exasperated look. “What have I told you about modesty, Grace? Now, let us commence with the feasting, and then the games. I am determined to find no fault in your playing, so long as we win.”
Grace smiled
rather cryptically and shrugged, then followed Janet and Francis out to the terrace to begin things.
As it happened, they lost. Grace had been right; she really was not very good.
Strangely, he hadn’t minded in the least.
Chapter Thirteen
Involvement of friends and family into one’s personal business can tend to grate on a person after a while. Depending on precisely who is involved, that is. And how involved they are.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 2 November 1815
He was whistling again. He really didn’t have a reason to, exactly, as he was choosing to walk from his house to Grace’s, which was really quite a ridiculous idea. He’d never been much of a walker, and yet he was traipsing the distance without a single complaint of either his feet or his patience.
And whistling.
All because he was going to see Grace.
Technically, he was going to assess her for flaws and faults, though he could not say with any certainty what exactly he would be evaluating today, but that was neither here nor there. Something brilliant and scheming would come to him, he was sure. There was a list, after all, and he had taken care to never venture into the battlefield of Trenwick House without having it at hand.
Although, if he was correct, and he was positive he was, the list was growing shorter and shorter, which meant it could be time to call upon the Spinsters again.
What a horrifying thought.
Surely, he didn’t need their interference again, helpful though it had been the first time. He knew Grace far better now, and he would be able to find areas of potential improvement on his own. After all, he’d already assessed eating, dancing, languages, walking…
He chuckled to himself at the memory of that one. Grace’s irritated expression as she wandered back and forth across the room, having no idea how flawless she was when she did so.
She had no idea how she appeared when she did anything. Or how impressive she was. Or how lovely. She really had no proper perception of herself at all. She’d spent far too long having to answer for errors in herself that did not exist and being trained up in the ways of perfection without knowing if she’d ever gotten close. She hated being called perfect. But he wondered if she realized just how close to perfect she truly was.
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