She opened her wardrobe and reached for a riding habit. “How long since Pendleton and the others left?”
“I don’t rightly know. Footman came to the kitchens t’ tell Cook not t’ bother with breakfast, as they’d gone.”
Perhaps she still had a chance to catch Pendleton on the road. She could always kill her cousin once she got home.
“If ye ask me,” Sadie added, “it’s just as well he’s gone. It wouldn’t do for anyone t’ notice how much he and Master Gus look alike.”
Caro brushed that statement aside. Pendleton was unlikely to darken the door of Sherrington Manor another time, unless she could convince him to come back. If she could manage that feat, she might be satisfied with merely maiming Snowley. She only needed to catch Pendleton before he’d gone too far.
With Sadie to tighten her stays, Caro rushed into her clothes and hurried to the stables. Her head still felt like it was crammed full of cotton wool, but that, at least, was an improvement over the incessant hammering against her skull.
She made directly for Boudicca’s stall, but only halfway down the row, she collided with a solid body. The familiar odors of leather and soap enveloped her, and she took a moment to simply breathe.
You know his smell.
His smell. Her mind did not need further specification. For her, there was only one him.
And Lord, she recognized him on the most basic level, the way an animal scented its mate.
Now is not the time.
It wasn’t, but when strong hands encircled her waist, tightening, drawing her to him, she nestled her head on his shoulder. As much as she needed to act, she needed this, too. Needed his comfort, his presence. Surely she could spare this small moment.
He’d watched over her the entire night. He’d kept her from doing something stupid with Pendleton. He’d acted to preserve her reputation. Somehow his presence here and now seemed like a sign. Everything would turn out all right.
“I reckoned you’d be down here before too long.” The words rumbled from the depths of his chest. “As soon as Sadie delivered my message.”
Again, he’d protected her in sending a servant rather than knocking on the door of her bedchamber himself. He would have caught you in nothing but your shift. Small darts of heat arrowed into her belly at that thought. A very wanton part of her wanted him to see her in less. She’d let him look his fill, and revel in his scrutiny, in his heated gaze like the brush of unseen fingers over her skin.
His hands tightened in warning. Despite her haste, she longed for just another calming instant in his embrace, yet she pulled back. Just in time, for Gem led Boudicca along the row. The mare was already bridled and outfitted in a saddle for riding astride. Good Lord, had he expected her to turn up in her stable boy’s togs? Perhaps she should have.
“You’ve thought of everything,” Caro said in an oddly husky tone. Thank God for that. He’d saved her a wait that would have felt interminable.
And then she noted his clothing. Formfitting breeches and a pair of battered riding boots encased a set of muscular legs.
“I’m coming with you.”
Caro took the reins from Gem. “You don’t even know where I’m going.”
Mr. Crosby accepted another horse from a stable boy and encouraged it along the aisle. “As if I can’t guess. You’re going after Pendleton, aren’t you?”
She urged her mare fast toward the stable yard. “Do you think I need a chaperone?”
“You’re going off Sherrington grounds.” He voiced that stark fact in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Not if I hurry. Carriages don’t travel that fast.” Please let him have taken his carriage. “I can catch them at the fence that runs along the road.”
“Even if your chase ends there, you’re safer with a partner. An excellent seat is no guarantee you won’t suffer a mishap.”
His protectiveness sent another wave of warmth through her. Still, she pressed her lips together. “Come along if you want, then. I don’t have time to argue the point.”
Before long they were mounted and cantering along the familiar path through the woods. The shortcut to the road she’d shown Mr. Crosby the first day. Now it would lead her to Pendleton. Caro leaned forward to whisper to Boudicca. “Come on, now. Come on.”
As they emerged from the trees, a line of carriages came into view. Not too late. She wasn’t too late. She still might convince Pendleton to give her a chance with the hunt.
As she scanned the line of carriages, however, her pulse accelerated. Damnation. Pendleton was nowhere among the travelers. She pressed Boudicca to lengthen her strides over the final yards. Then she reined in sharply against the wall that separated the manor grounds from the road and hailed a coachman.
The driver pulled back on the reins, but instead of replying to Caro, he exchanged a few words with the woman who sat behind him in the open barouche. Her perfect complexion shaded by a frilly parasol that matched her velvet traveling costume, she wrinkled a pert nose in Caro’s direction.
Behind her, the rest of the carriages came to a halt, their occupants craning their necks to see what the trouble was. To the last, they were fine ladies traveling with their maids—the ladies to whom Pippa had defended Caro the previous evening. The sort of lady Papa wished Caro to become—straight, proper, never a hair out of place…and leading the dullest of existences.
“Is there a reason for this delay?” the woman said. “We were given to believe we were no longer welcome here. I simply seek to comply with Mr. Wilde’s wishes.”
Caro forced herself to smile. “There’s been something of a misunderstanding. My cousin did not consult with me before he made his decision.” Which wasn’t strictly true. She had accused him of not behaving like a proper duke, after all. “You have my sincere apologies for any offense, and if I can find a way to make reparations, I will.”
The woman brushed that offering aside with a wave of a gloved hand. “I have never had the dubious honor of being told to leave a gathering before. I think it best if I carry out orders to the letter.”
Blast the woman, but Caro’s business had never been with the ladies. “I believe it was Mr. Pendleton at the root of the difficulties with my cousin. If I could speak with him…”
“Ah yes, Mr. Pendleton. It’s well known you prefer to ride with the gentlemen.” She stared at Caro for a moment, taking in everything from the top of her head to the flapping skirts of her habit—which lay on both sides of Boudicca’s flanks. The woman may as well have accused Caro of preferring to ride like the gentlemen…or ride the gentlemen themselves. “You’ll have to run along and find him. He’s gone off ahead with the others on horseback. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we must be off. It’s a good way to Leicestershire.”
With a slap of the reins, the coachman started his team once again. Behind him, wheels creaked against stones, and the entire line rumbled off.
“What are you going to do now?” Mr. Crosby asked.
“What choice do I have but to ride ahead and find the gentlemen?” If she had to chase them over a hundred miles, she would.
Before Crosby could reply, Caro wheeled her mare. Ignoring Mr. Crosby’s shout of alarm, she circled until she had ample room and then dug in her heels. Boudicca charged the stone wall lining the road, gathered herself, and sailed over the obstacle with room to spare, before tearing off down the lane. Several of the carriage horses tossed their heads in protest, but Caro spared them little thought. All her focus aimed at a single goal. Reaching Pendleton.
Behind her echoed the hammering of another set of hooves. No doubt Mr. Crosby would berate her for taking that fence, but he’d have to catch her first.
During the past days while her injury confined her, Caro had longed for this. The sun’s rays warming her face, the sharpness of the wind tugging at her hairpins, the thundering power of a racing horse beneath her. The heart-pounding surge of excitement as they cleared another obstacle, and she sighted the next and the next, cutting acr
oss fields when the road turned.
In short, the chase—only circumstances prevented her from enjoying it.
Though she was now hunting in a very real sense—and a fox, at that, a wily creature named Marcus Pendleton—she’d never envisioned her party turning out quite this way. Damn her cousin for his high-handedness. Damn herself for goading him into sending Pendleton packing.
She leaned low over Boudicca’s whipping mane and urged her on. Faster. Faster.
“Hold hard!” Somehow Mr. Crosby’s order reached her ears in spite of the wind and speed.
Lord, what now? She reined in her mount as he galloped up. Sunlight reflected in his eyes, turning them to burning sapphire.
“You’re going to run that mare into the ground.” His own mount had worked up a lather in the effort to keep up. “How do you even know where you’re going?”
Caro pulled a loose strand of hair out of her face. “It’s clear enough they’ll make for Quorndon Hall.”
“You can’t mean to chase them all the way to Leicester.”
Given the restless bolts of energy that raced through her blood, she’d chase Pendleton to Scotland if she had to, but she knew better than to voice that thought aloud. Mr. Crosby would certainly protest he couldn’t stay away from the estate for a prolonged period. “I won’t have to if you’d let me run.”
The steady drum of hoofbeats met her ears, and she pivoted.
Another rider approached, from the direction they’d just come, but hand it all, he couldn’t be their quarry. Not unless Pendleton had managed to shrink by a considerable amount since last night.
“What the devil?” Crosby said.
Caro seconded that sentiment. Not now of all times! “Gus!” she shouted. “What in the world do you think you’re doing?”
The boy cantered the final furlong that separated them. “It weren’t fair, yer goin’ out riding without me.”
“And what did I tell you about that?” If she’d been standing, she’d have put her hands on her hips. “There was to be no jumping and no taking out a horse on your own.”
“But I’m not on my own now.”
Mr. Crosby nudged his mount between Caro and the boy. “We have to turn back.”
“No!” A moment passed before Caro realized she wasn’t the only one to protest the decision. But Mr. Crosby had a point. Gus’s horse was blowing.
She turned to the boy. Patience. “I promise I will take you out riding another day.”
Gus set his jaw. “I want to come on the hunt, too.”
Mentally, she began to count to ten but couldn’t even reach three. “We’re not going to have a hunt unless you allow me to go after Mr. Pendleton and convince him to come back.”
Not that Gus was ready for an outing where he’d be expected to observe strict protocol while maintaining a mad dash to keep up with the pack.
“That’s the other thing. I wanted to see Pendleton.”
Despite the warmth of the day, a chill raised the hairs on Caro’s nape. “Why?”
“I heard what Sadie said about me looking like Pendleton. I wanted to see for meself.”
Caro studied the boy. She could see the resemblance, especially in the stubborn set of the boy’s jaw. The passing years would give his chin more of a jut and sculpt his cheekbones into something very like Marcus Pendleton. But none of that mattered now. Whatever the truth was, Dysart would take it up with his son when the boy was old enough to understand. “You were outside my bedchamber?”
“Sadie was late with me breakfast.”
“You’ll be late getting dinner if you don’t go back to the manor,” Caro snapped.
“I’ll take him,” Mr. Crosby said.
Caro caught and held his gaze. Concern lit his expression—concern for letting her ride off alone, but also concern for the boy. “Thank you.”
“I can come with you,” Gus protested. “I can keep up, easy. I’ve come this far.”
Mr. Crosby took hold of Gus’s reins. “And you’ll go back now—at a walk to rest your horse. You,” he added to Caro, “should come with us.”
Reflexively her thighs tightened about Boudicca. In response, the mare danced sideways. “You know I can’t do that,” she grated. “Boudicca is still fresh. She wants to run.”
This time, her gaze warred with his, while his jaw tightened until a muscle ticked in his cheek. “If anything happens to you…”
“It won’t. I can outrun anything, and you know it.”
“I’m more concerned with what will happen if you do catch up with Pendleton, given what he tried last night.”
Not now. Not when every second she spent arguing this point was taking her quarry away from her. “He won’t dare lift a finger against me. And we won’t be alone. The other gentlemen are with him.”
Mr. Crosby’s mouth flattened into a line. “The others were with him last night, as well. You will make certain you have time to get home before sundown.”
Who was he to give her orders? But then, she had no intention of obeying. “If I don’t come on them in another mile or two, I’ll turn back. I promise.”
Caro didn’t give him a chance to protest or voice disbelief. She pivoted and cantered off again, jumping an easy hedge and cutting across a fallow field to avoid a curve in the road. At the top of the next rise, she finally sighted her quarry—a group of riders taking the air at an easy trot.
Thank God. She pressed her heels into Boudicca’s flanks.
Lord Allerdale’s gelding distinguished him from the crowd. Pendleton jogged beside him atop his stallion. Caro held back to assess the beast’s gait. Diagonal pairs of legs moved in perfect synchronism. If Boudicca had injured the stud in their encounter last week, he showed no sign of it now.
Perhaps the beast scented them for he swiveled his ears and raised his head, snorting. With a half rear, he came around. Pendleton sawed on the reins, but he spotted Caro soon enough and went still. Even at a furlong’s distance, she could see his expression melt into a feral grin.
He halted, still in the saddle, but his beast of a stallion had other ideas. He tossed his mane and pawed the ground, forcing his master to circle until the animal decided to mind.
“My God, to what do I owe this honor?” Pendleton said, holding his mount with a firm hand. “It wasn’t enough that your cousin sent me off?”
At their approach, Boudicca pinned her ears back, and Caro stopped the mare outside biting range. “My cousin spoke without my knowledge or approval. Is there anything I could say to convince you to come back and give me another chance?”
Pendleton let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Did you hear that, boys? Lady Caroline thinks to make a joke.” His tone deepened into something dangerous. “Too bad no one finds it funny.”
She was not about to let him intimidate her. “We can do this here and now if you like. We can race across this field. I’ll jump any obstacle you want. All you need to do is tell Sir Bellingham I am fit to ride with his hunt.”
He laughed again, longer, richer—but for all that, the sound still fell hard on her ears, like the cawing of crows. “Have you not realized by now I was never going to put in a word with Sir Bellingham on your behalf? The only way you’ll get into his hunt is to sell me that mare. Of course, then you won’t have a mount worthy of the chase. How’s that for a nice bit of irony?”
Caro wished she’d carried a crop. She’d use it to slash Pendleton’s smug face right across his perfect nose. “It doesn’t have to be you, then,” she said, her voice rising with anger and desperation. “Any one of you here can put in a word for me. Allerdale?”
Allerdale was suddenly preoccupied with the ground directly before his horse’s hooves.
“Anyone?”
But no one else deigned to look at her.
“Do you like irony?” Though she addressed Pendleton, she buoyed up her words so they carried. “I’ll give you some back and to spare. You’ll allow mares to run with the hounds. You’ll jump them over the same fence
s as the stallions. But ladies riding? Heaven forefend. We’re simply too delicate.”
“You won’t be needing that mare of yours, then, will you?” Pendleton shot back. “You may as well sell her to me.”
She sat taller in the saddle, spine perfectly straight. “When hell freezes and the devil dons a pair of ice skates.”
Chapter 23
Between Lady Caroline and Gus, Adrian didn’t know who possessed a harder head. Though he had ample experience with Lady Caroline, he was quickly learning that Gus’s head compared just as favorably to a slab of granite.
More than once, the lad yanked the reins of his mount from Adrian’s hands and set off at a run in an attempt to catch up to Lady Caroline. Each time, Adrian had brought him to heel and forced him in the direction of the manor, taking every turn in the road at a plodding walk.
Part of Adrian sympathized with the lad. He, too, wanted to break into a gallop and rush straight back to Lady Caroline. He knew her well enough to understand that she would not stop until she confronted Pendleton, even if she had to chase him over the Scottish border.
By the time he and Gus ambled into the stable yard, Adrian’s mood had taken a decided turn for the foul, and Gus, to judge by his scowl, wasn’t faring much better. Keeping a firm grip on Gus’s mount, Adrian slid to the ground.
A spare bridle in one hand, Gem emerged from the tack room.
Adrian motioned him over. “Until further orders, if this young miscreant demands a horse, you will refuse. And if you catch him sneaking one out, you will do everything in your means to stop him, even if you mun tie him down. In fact, if you spot him within fifty yards of the stables, send for me.”
Still in the saddle, Gus crossed his arms. “You can’t give orders.”
“I most certainly can in this instance. And I’ve no doubt Lady Caroline will concur with me.” As soon as she got back.
“She’s not my mum no more than ye’re my dad.”
“I’ve no doubt your father would also approve, even if he’s not home at the moment.” Though Adrian barely knew Dysart, he felt confident on that point.
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