The Pursuit of Lady Harriett (Tanglewood Book 3)

by Rachael Anderson

  It was at times such as these that she wondered if she would ever be able to believe in Chris.

  Near the end of their ten-day agreement, Jonathan and Cora planned a riding excursion to some old ruins one morning. Harriett looked forward to an invigorating ride, hoping it would help to clear her head. After dressing in her warmest, deep blue riding habit—one that Tabby had managed to resurrect from Harriett’s spill into the pond—she pulled on her gloves, retrieved her whip, and left her room behind.

  She emerged into the brisk morning air to see that six horses had been saddled and tied to a fence. Chris was already there, holding onto Wicked’s halter, but it wasn’t until Harriett looked over the horses that she realized he had outfitted the chestnut horse with a side saddle. She blinked, searching his expression. Had he done that for her, or had a groom placed that saddle on Wicked by accident? Her heart fluttered a little faster as she strode across the path to meet him.

  “Is this for me?” she asked, gesturing to the saddle.

  Chris responded by taking the whip from her hands and tossing it aside. “We had a talk, Wicked and I, and I informed him that if I can be on my best behavior, so can he—assuming you are willing to grant him a second chance, that is.”

  Harriett looked over the horse, admiring the rich color of his coat and his sleek lines. He appeared so unwicked at the moment, yet still beautiful and powerful.

  Powerful enough to toss you off again, came an inner voice of reason. Harriett could still feel the bruise on her leg from where she had landed on a rock in the pond and remembered the unnerving feeling of falling from the horse’s back. But she refused to let that dissuade her.

  “And if he is not on his best behavior?” she asked.

  “There is no telling with him, of course. But to be on the safe side, we will stay away from ponds and prickly bushes. And birds, if at all possible,” he added with a grin.

  “You certainly know how to allay a woman’s fears, don’t you?”

  He looked ready to say something, but the arrival of his parents silenced him. His mother pointed at Wicked as she crossed the yard. “Christopher, you are not going to let Harriett ride that demon, are you?”

  “Harriett has been wishing to do that very thing, and I have decided that for this morning only, her wish is my command.”

  “Only this morning?” Harriett quipped, attempting to push aside her fears.

  “Yes,” he said. “If not, you would undoubtedly abuse your wishing privileges most abominably.”

  “You are probably right,” she conceded.

  His mother looked from one to the other as though they’d gone daft. “Harriett, I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to ride this beast. Christopher, you must remove that saddle at once.”

  “Please do not ask that of him, Mrs. Jamison,” said Harriett. “Wicked was unkind enough to unseat me the last time I attempted to ride him, and my father taught me that a horse cannot respect a cowardly rider. So you see, I must ride him again so that I might earn his trust as your son has done.”

  Mrs. Jamison’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. “He has unseated you before? Christopher, how can you even think to let Harriett ride a horse who has already shown his wicked nature?”

  “I’m afraid I have to agree with your mother on this,” added Mr. Jamison. “I will not see Harriett come to any harm on my watch.”

  Touched by their concern, Harriett laid a hand on Mr. Jamison’s arm and attempted to lighten the tone. “You needn’t worry, sir. Chris had a stern talk with Wicked and has assured me that nothing will go amiss this morning.”

  “A stern talk?” Mr. Jamison spluttered. “What nonsense is this?”

  Harriett laughed. “Forgive me, Mr. Jamison, I was only jesting. Perhaps it would help if I told you that the first time I attempted to ride Wicked, I had my whip with me and quickly learned that whips make him skittish. As you can see, your son has been good enough to set my whip aside so that I will not upset Wicked this time around. So you see, there is nothing to fear.” She glanced at Chris. “Isn’t that right, sir? Wicked is not adverse to anything else, is he?”

  “No—at least none that I am aware of.”

  “Then I am quite determined.” Harriett spoke with a confidence she did not entirely feel, but she would never forget the lesson her father had once taught her. If Chris was willing to allow her another opportunity, she would be a fool to let this particular wish go ungranted.

  “I still cannot approve of this,” Mrs. Jamison said, appearing only mildly appeased.

  “Then you may hold me entirely to blame should Wicked behave wickedly.” Christopher moved to Harriett’s side and took her by the waist. “Ready?”

  At her nod, he lifted her easily into the saddle and waited for her to situate her legs and adjust her skirts before taking a step back.

  “Not to worry, Mother,” he said. “I have seen Harriett ride and believe her to be an excellent horsewoman. I have complete confidence in her abilities.”

  Did he mean that? Harriett wasn’t entirely certain, but his words warmed her heart. Some might think it uncaring of him to allow her to ride such a temperamental animal, but Harriett didn’t see it that way. She viewed it as a compliment. Christopher’s gesture showed that he not only believed in her but valued her opinion, and what woman wouldn’t appreciate that?

  She could only hope she would not disappoint him. Or Wicked. She’d rather not take another spill if she could help it.

  “How am I to direct him without the whip?” she asked, not liking the sensation of not being in control.

  “Simple. If you would like him to go left, tug the reins to the left. If you’d like him to go right, tug right. If you want him to stop, say halt. Pull back on the reins slightly to slow him down, and click your tongue if you’d like him to move or increase his speed.”

  “Sounds easy enough,” Harriett said, relieved that Wicked had not seen fit to drop her in the dirt just yet. “Might I take him for a quick jaunt about the yard while we wait for Jonathan and Cora?”

  “Of course.” Christopher stepped aside, gesturing for her to go ahead.

  With the reins firmly in her grip, Harriett clicked her tongue. All eyes watched her as she guided the horse around in a large circle. He side-stepped a few times and tossed his head in a defiant manner, but as they neared Chris once more, he seemed to settle. By the time Cora and Jonathan joined them, Harriett was ready to ride.

  She leaned forward to give the horse a thankful rub. “Mr. and Mrs. Jamison, I hope that Wicked and I have put your fears to rest.”

  Mrs. Jamison chose not to answer right away. Instead, she mounted her own steed, with assistance from her husband, before turning back to Harriett. “I will not rest easy until our ride is complete and you are off that wretched horse.”

  “He does not take kindly to name calling, Mother,” said Chris.

  “And I do not take kindly to being ignored,” she returned.

  Chris barked out a laugh, causing his mother to smile a little. Harriett interpreted her expression as a fondness for an incorrigible son and had to smile a little as well. As much as she wanted Chris to change in other ways, she would never wish away this aspect of his character. It made him far too endearing.

  As soon as all riders had mounted, the party followed Jonathan and Cora around the house and across a meadow. It didn’t take much coaxing to spur Wicked into a gallop, and Harriett reveled in the feel of his smooth and steady pace. With the wind whipping at her face and the sun high overhead, she felt perfectly happy.

  As they slowed on the far side and moved into a dense thicket of budding trees and dormant underbrush, Chris fell in beside her. “It appears as though Wicked has taken to you. Should I be envious?”

  “Very.” Harried leaned forward and gave the horse another pat. “He’s a beautiful animal. I cannot say I’ve ever experienced such a smooth ride. It felt as though I was soaring across the meadow. What would you say if I offered to buy him from
you?”

  Chris chuckled. “I would turn you down with my sincerest apologies.”

  “You? Apologize sincerely? No, I don’t believe it.”

  Placing his hand over his heart, Chris feigned offense. “You injure me, my lady. Pray tell me, when have I not been sincere?”

  “When have you?” she countered, curious as to how he might answer. “Take Wicked, for example. Did you let me ride him this morning to show your parents how besotted you are over me, or did you do it to be kind—because you knew I have wanted to ride him?”

  He didn’t answer right away, nor did he look her in the eye. After a moment, he said, “I’m not sure I follow. Wouldn’t both reasons prove me sincere? After all, I’m either attempting to please my parents or you—possibly even both—am I not?”

  “I suppose,” she murmured, not at all happy with the way he skirted around her question. He could be so maddening at times.

  “Now that I think on it,” he added. “I can see that your question has nothing to do with my sincerity and everything to do with my allegiance. You’re wondering who I saddled Wicked for—you or them—are you not?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “You have mistaken my meaning entirely. It does not matter who you did it for. What matters is the reason you did it.”

  “I still do not follow. I did it as a kindness to both you and my parents. What other reason is there?”

  Harriett clenched her jaw to keep from uttering her unkind thoughts aloud. How could he be so endearing one moment and so vexing the next?

  She ducked under a low tree branch and grumbled, “I do not know why you are so set on pleasing your parents when you only mean to displease them in a few days’ time.”

  “I’m hoping that all the pleasing will counteract the displeasing.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it. Your mother has grown quite fond of me, you know. I rather think she prefers me over you.”

  He slowed his horse to let her go ahead of him through a narrow section. “I don’t doubt it. You are a great deal easier to like.”

  Harriett glanced over her shoulder, wondering if he truly believed that. “I was only jesting, Chris. A mother could never love another’s child more than her own.”

  “She could if that other person is you.”

  The way he said it—without pretense or sarcasm—caused Harriett’s heart to drop to her toes. Did he mean it or had he said it to flatter her? As he came up beside her once more, she snuck a glance at him, spying the familiar glint of humor in his eyes. It annoyed her. Could the dratted man ever stay serious for longer than a moment?

  They reached a rapidly flowing stream, which Wicked plowed across without hesitation. Droplets of water splashed across Harriett’s skirts as they did so, but she scarcely noticed. Her thoughts were too preoccupied with trying to understand the man behind her. If only she could be allowed access to his mind, even for a short while. She would dearly love to see his true thoughts and feelings. At times, he seemed to care about her, but to what extent? Did he wish for something more than friendship, as she was coming to hope for, or was he content to say goodbye after he’d completed his business with Jonathan?

  “Come now, you stubborn mule. It’s only water,” muttered Chris from behind.

  Harriett pulled Wicked to a halt and looked back to see Chris and his horse on the other side of the stream.

  “He won’t cross,” said Chris, attempting to urge his horse onward. But the animal backed up instead, tossing his head and appearing ready to bolt.

  With a muttered curse, he swung down, grabbed the horse by the halter, and attempted to lead it across, but the horse would not take even a step into the water.

  Chris shook his head at Harriett. “Apparently he doesn’t care if he sees the ruins or not,” he told her, then raised his voice to call out to the others, “Father! Jonathan!”

  It didn’t take long for the entire group to congregate near the stream. As soon as Jonathan realized Chris’s predicament, he scowled. “I should have sold that beast last year. He’s the most finicky creature I’ve ever owned. Perhaps we should return to Tanglewood and postpone the ruins outing until tomorrow. I’m certain the Biddings will allow us to borrow one of their less-particular horses.”

  Chris waved the suggestion aside. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no telling what the weather will be like tomorrow, and we are already well underway. I’ve seen enough ruins to last me a lifetime, so please continue without me. I’ll take this stubborn mule back to the stables and await your return at the manor.”

  “And leave you to your own devices?” Jonathan said dryly. “I’m not sure that is the best idea. I’m likely to find a snake in my bed later tonight.”

  Harriett sighed, knowing she could not allow Chris to remain behind on his own. She was riding his horse, after all. It should have been her who was stuck on the other side of the stream—not him. “I shall stay with Chris,” she said.

  “I can stay as well,” Cora offered.

  “And I,” added Mrs. Jamison.

  “What would be the point in that?” Harriett asked. “Mr. and Mrs. Jamison, I know how excited you are to see the ruins, and Cora and Jonathan know the way, so pray carry on without us. It is but a short ride back to the house, and we’ll see to it that luncheon is ready upon your return.”

  Mrs. Jamison looked hesitant. “I don’t know. I would very much like to view the ruins, but I shouldn’t leave you and Christopher alone without a proper chaperone.”

  “Truly, there is no need to worry, Mrs. Jamison. This is the country, after all, and Chris will behave as the perfect gentleman during our ride back, won’t you?”

  “As perfect as I am able,” came his reply. He was still trying to pull the horse into the water with no luck. His boots were wet and his trousers were damp as well.

  “I see no harm in leaving them alone,” inserted Mr. Jamison with impatience. “They’re practically betrothed, after all.”

  Harriett’s eyes widened slightly, and she glanced at Chris for help, but he was too preoccupied with the horse and didn’t seem to hear his father. From the glare Mrs. Jamison sent her husband and the amused looks on Jonathan and Cora’s faces, everyone else had heard plain as day.

  Mrs. Jamison attempted to ignore her husband’s indelicate remark. “Perhaps you are right, Harriett. It is but a short ride back to the manor. Once you explain, I’m certain the servants will understand why you have returned alone.”

  “My servants know better than to gossip, Mrs. Jamison,” said Jonathan. “Now let us be off, shall we? I’m beginning to get hungry already.”

  “It is a good thing I asked Mrs. Caddy to pack us some sweet rolls then,” said Cora.

  Jonathan’s gaze softened as he smiled at her. “You know that I adore you, don’t you?”

  “Yes, you make that very clear.” She smiled, looking for all the world like the happiest of women.

  Harriett tried her best not to envy her friend too much. Jonathan had never been one to hide his feelings regarding his wife. The way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her, the way he always gravitated towards her with no one prodding him or reminding him to do so. What would it feel like to be loved in that way?

  “Be off with you,” said Chris with a dismissive wave of his arm.

  Cora nodded. “Enjoy your ride back to Tanglewood. We shall see you shortly.”

  As Harriett watched them canter away, a feeling of unease settled in her stomach. What had she been thinking to offer to stay with Chris? That was the problem. She hadn’t been thinking, only feeling. She wanted to be near him, converse with him, and spend more time with him, all the while knowing it would probably not end well for her. Perhaps this was how a bear felt when drawn to a hive surrounded by swarming bees. Harriett wanted to draw near, but would she find honey within, or would she merely receive a series of painful stings for her efforts?

  Her foolish, foolish heart.

  Harriett guided Wicked back across the stream while Chris
remounted, and they began to pick their way through the trees and brush once more.

  “You did not need to stay behind with me, but it was good of you to do so,” said Chris.

  “How could I not?” she said dryly. “I am pursuing you, after all, and what woman wouldn’t leap at the opportunity to be alone with the man she adores?”

  “Do you adore me, Harriett?” he asked, his tone half teasing and half something else.

  “Do you adore me?” she countered.

  He chuckled. “Jonathan and Cora must be having an effect on us. We’re beginning to sound like them.”

  Would that be so terrible? Harriett thought, feeling frustrated with both him and the situation. How much longer would this continue? “Your parents think we are nearly betrothed, Chris. I feel terrible deceiving them as we have done. We need to tell them the truth.”

  “What truth is that, Harriett?” he asked.

  “That you have no intention of proposing.”

  “And if I did propose?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with humor. “What would you say?”

  Harriett was not in the mood to joke about something like this. “You must stop your teasing, Chris. This is not a laughing matter. When the truth comes out, your parents will not be at all amused, I promise you that.”

  That seemed to have a sobering effect on him. “No, I daresay they will not. They will probably want to turn me over their knees and take a whip to my backside.”

  “Will you tell them the truth then?” Harriett implored. “I’ve noticed you and Jonathan have not been as preoccupied with matters of business as of late. Are you even needed here any longer?”

  Christopher hesitated as though deliberating how to answer. At last, he said, “I convinced Jonathan to do as you suggested and cry off from the deal. He wrote to Mr. O’Rourke and explained as much, and now he is waiting to see if there will be a reply. If you can bring yourself to carry on for a bit longer, I would like to stay on another day or two to see if that reply comes.”