"Monsieur Therriault! We've come to take your finest steeds from you for the afternoon," Lady Havenshire announced proudly as she threw open the swinging door to the stables. Lord Beckham behind her seemed to feel utterly out of place, as he glanced at the horses still lazing about in their stalls. The horses' lead keeper, a whisper of a man in white working clothes with a dirtied beret atop his head, spoke with a Parisian accent thick as beaten cream.
"M'lady Nadia, always a pleasure to 'ave you in this part of the estate. Shadow 'as missed you so greatly in your years away from the estate," he crowed, his tone throaty. "She 'asn't let anyone ride her since you've been gone." The horse, which Nadia recognized as her beloved Shadow, whinnied as the door to its stall opened; the creature was quick to dart through the dirt and the straw to be at Nadia's side, and she soothed it with a gentle hand swaying across its bridle.
"I had expected no less a loyalty from her," Nadia smiled. "My sweet Shadow, the finest steed England's ever seen. Perhaps you'd like to take her riding for the day?" Nadia's smile turned devilish as she made the offer to Lord Beckham, who cleared his throat and stepped back.
"She seems to quite favor you, m'lady," he said, making an excuse. "Perhaps another horse for me? Shadow seems to have missed you upon her back."
"Oh, I'm certain any sort of proper gentleman could tame the wild heart of a girl like Shadow, could he not?" Lady Havenshire teased. "Come now, you'd not shrink away at such a chance to woo the heart of a wondrous woman such as I, would you?" she needled him. Monsieur Therriault looked on apprehensively as Lord Beckham sighed and accepted the churlish little challenge, moving alongside Shadow with his hands on the creature's back. Shadow whinnied in protest as Lord Beckham searched for some manner of mounting the creature, and it became quite immediately apparent that Lord Beckham in fact possessed practically no skill in the realm equestrian at all. Nadia's impish smile turned to stifled giggles as Lord Beckham awkwardly positioned himself at the animal's side, and then the other side; he finally, lopsidedly threw one leg atop the beast and nearly fell flat onto his back at that; when Shadow lifted her back in a roaring objection, Lord Beckham grasped one of the stable's support beams to stop himself from cracking his skull open upon the ground.
"And you've found me out," Lord Beckham admitted grudgingly as Nadia abandoned any pretense of subduing her laughter, instead letting it loose in long, girly snorts and chuckles.
"Just how long has it been since supreme gentleman Lord Marshall Beckham has rode upon a horse? Or even sat upon a horse?" Lady Havenshire asked with a smirk.
"If I quite recalled, perhaps I'd tell you," Lord Beckham sighed, giving her his own charming grin. She adored him in that moment; the gentleman who couldn't ride, certainly not nearly with the skill of Lady Havenshire, who quickly and skillfully mounted Shadow, the horse sniffing and snorting, clopping its hooves against the dirt in satisfaction at being reunited with her beloved owner.
"It's been that long, has it?" Lady Havenshire taunted, leading her horse towards the stable doors. "Monsieur Therriault, perhaps one of the older, slower steeds would be appropriate for Lord Beckham, yes?"
"I suppose I'm meant to take that as a clever manner of insult, m'lady," Lord Beckham quipped.
"Yes, you are, though you'd do well to remember I only tend to offer clever insults to men I rather like," Lady Havenshire admitted with a blush.
"I'll let him ride Pierre, then," Monsieur Therriault responded, corralling an older, dark-skinned horse from the rear of the stables.
"I've a warning for you, though, Lord Beckham," Lady Havenshire muttered through a grin.
"And what manner of warning is that?" an exasperated Lord Beckham asked as he awkwardly mounted the smaller, more complacent horse.
"I tend to be very competitive!" Lady Havenshire exclaimed as she gave her horse a quiet whistle, the animal setting off from the stable doors with a sudden whinny and a loud flourish. "Try to keep up!" Lady Havenshire called back to him with a laugh.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Fast - air rushing, breeze blowing, trees swaying; their colors a stunning, vibrant array of blazing autumn oranges, browns, and rich, sunny yellows. Clouds gathered dark at the edges of a pristine sky as Shadow's hooves clamped and smashed and clobbered cobblestones and fallen leaves, until Lady Havenshire, laughing at the freedom and the joy of being atop her horse's back once again, with all the world before her to traipse upon as she saw fit, drew her horse's reigns off-road and into the tall, roiling grasses near the fringes of the Emerys estate.
Nothing in the world felt quite like the freedom of riding upon Shadow's back - she'd rode steeds in other countries, she'd rode boats upon the open ocean; but to Nadia, even the flight of birds had little on the one thing she loved her home for, the joy of riding across fields, cutting through forests, leaping over streams, with the worries of the world behind her and nothing but her dreams to contain her. She laughed away the worry; she laughed away thoughts of her father, thoughts of the estate; the caging burdens of life that'd fallen once more onto her shoulders when she'd returned to England. To all of it she simply laughed and drove Shadow along, swerving through weeds; hooves clopping through a dirt field, past an abandoned farmhouse, its thatched roof having rotted away and its stone foundation crumbling like some manner of ancient, collapsed Roman bathhouse.
Only after so joyously trotting upon Shadow for so long, longer than she could care to remember, well into the waning moments of the morning, did Lady Havenshire finally remember that she had not galloped alone out onto the moors; worse yet she remembered that the curious man to whom she'd found herself oddly attracted was not, in fact, any good at all with horses. She looked back in worry from where she'd come and - not surprisingly - saw no sign at all of Lord Beckham upon the aging, deep-brown horse, Pierre. The smile washed from her expression, replaced with momentary worry; she could hear little across the fields save for the soft sway of grass and leaves, tossed about by the gentle breeze. She searched the autumn-tinted trees and their bouncing leaves; she searched the dead farm field, and saw nor heard a single sign of the poor man. She bit her lip, sudden worry shocking her, and she began to scold herself for so thoughtlessly abandoning Lord Beckham. Is he okay, she wondered? Worse yet, has he turned from me for my impetuousness? Perhaps, she thought, she should have listened to Ms. Mulwray; perhaps, just this once, she had been right. Things would have gone so much better, simpler, had Nadia rode quaintly side-saddle while Lord Beckham took his time on Pierre. If only...
Suddenly, a faint gallop struck Nadia's ear, and like an alerted hawk her senses shot towards the edge of the trees. There, what she saw tilted her worrisome frown into a slow, warm smile; trotting like a mountain-man upon an overburdened ass, Lord Beckham emerged from one of Emerys' forests, gripping onto Pierre's reigns with all the strength and adroitness he could manage. She stifled another chuckle, as the horse stumbled and jaunted at a pace that could only be described as embarrassing. He looked up, his eyes crossed with an expression not unlike that of a child balancing precariously upon a tightrope, his gaze stricken with awed fear at the pace of the beast beneath him.
"The forest was that dangerous, was it?" Lady Havenshire called across the field to Lord Beckham; the sound startled the poor man, whose grip on the horse's reins tightened. Pierre appeared to respond to Lady Havenshire's voice, perhaps taking the words as a challenge. The horse picked up speed and began bounding towards Nadia and Shadow, and Lord Beckham's gaze shifted from terrified to... well, to even more terrified, as the horse threatened to quite summarily throw the poor lord off of his back with each bucking burst of speed.
"This blasted creature—" Lord Beckham howled, bouncing side-side on Pierre's back as the beast trotted across the dead field. "How do you tell it to slow down?!"
"Slow down? You could walk faster than Pierre is carrying you!" Nadia laughed uproariously.
"Perhaps I sh-should!" Lord Beckham responded, squeezing the reins tightly as Pierre finally began t
o slow, clearly exhausted by carrying the lord across the field. With a quiet yip Nadia led Shadow along the field to meet Lord Beckham; she skillfully led Shadow to a quick, light-hoof trot in a wide circle around Pierre, who snorted and trotted while Lady Havenshire rode in a circle around the man.
"Such a skilled rider you are," Lady Havenshire grinned.
"I'm beginning to see just why your father feels you utterly unmarriageable, m'lady," Lord Beckham teased. Pierre stepped to a stop in the middle of the field and rather unceremoniously plopped onto the mud, laying down with a yawn, leaving Lord Beckham's boots scuffed with layers of the mud. Lady Havenshire laughed, petting her hand along Shadow's bridle.
"Is that so? Do you think me utterly unmarriageable, then, m'lord? Must a woman stand before you in fear of sundering her beauty, pleading with you to teach her the ways of the beasts of wild, before you find her agreeable to a marriage, m'lord?" Lady Havenshire's voice grew thick with derisive sarcasm as she trotted closer, her circle around lazy Pierre narrowing. Lord Beckham pulled himself from the lazy animal's back, dusting away the dirt and the leaves clung to his jacket from the slow trip through the autumn forest, exhaling deeply. She could see the humble smile forming on the charming gentleman's lips and she bit her own, her cheeks reddening as she teased him. He liked it, she thought... and so did she.
"For me, a woman's skill upon the back of a steed means comparatively little, though I must say that the outfit you're wearing is itself rather... well, an interesting choice for an afternoon spent with a man of my status," Lord Beckham chided her in a deadpan, joking manner; she feigned offense.
"Ms. Mulwray said you would say just that very thing, so you've certainly won her vote of approval for taking my hand in marriage," she joked.
"And what, pray tell, have you gotten into your head, m'lady, to convince you I have any interest in taking your hand, then?" Lord Beckham retorted.
"It certainly couldn't be the manner in which you invited me into your domain, and made me smile once again, just as we had at that dreadful dinner, before... well, before, you know," Nadia stated cheekily, before the memory of Lord Beckham's sister again cast clouds across their exchange. She tried to brighten the mood, offering Lord Beckham a hand to hoist him up out of the mud. He regarded her suspiciously, and instead squished his way free of the mire, dusting off his boots with a humph.
"Trees are... a fair bit sparser, on my land, and there are certainly fewer forests to be found," Lord Beckham mentioned, glancing at the thick tree line they had both precariously trotted their way through.
"Emerys has long had some of the finest forests and hunting grounds in all of northern England," Nadia explained. "Father had little interest in attracting hunters, and tore down many of the cabins and hunting lodges my grandfather and his fathers had used to draw renters and trappers out this way. I always appreciated the forests more for days like today... when the autumn comes, and the colors sweep across the leaves, and the breezes kick them around... as a child, I also enjoyed the trees for climbing, and playing," she recalled with an evil little grin. "Poor mother, she'd go searching the moors for me, always winding up ruining one of her finest dresses, trudging through the mud and the branches looking for me."
"You would have gotten along rather terrifically with Leah," Lord Beckham laughed. He tried various calls and cries and snorts and sounds to lure Pierre out of the muddy morass he'd decided to lay in, but the stubborn old horse had little interest in the man or his antics.
"Did she too enjoy leading your mother wildly about the estate?" Nadia chuckled, leading Shadow into the muddy field and with a few deft motions and noises, she'd managed to coax Pierre whinnying to his hooves. She beamed at Lord Beckham, who shrugged in defeat.
"I tried," he said with a frown. "I suppose you're quite right. I'm not much a gentleman, am I?"
"Are you perhaps throwing out a line in hopes of finding a compliment on the other end? That's certainly a pitiable thing for a gentleman to do," Lady Havenshire chided.
"Considering my current predicament, I think I've made myself look quite pitiable already," he quipped back, looking down at the mud now staining his breeches. Nadia giggled, shaking her head.
"Pitiable? Perhaps, though poor Pierre's the one who laid down in the stuff," Nadia snickered. "You didn't answer me... about your sister," Nadia's voice fell to a curious murmur; Lord Beckham sighed, glancing away, and Nadia's own expression grew worrisome. "I hope I don't... conjure, poor thoughts, with such a subject."
"Thoughts of Leah are rarely poor, m'lady, as she's one of the most capable and amazing people I've met - woman or man," Lord Beckham said resoundingly. "I have... a lot to make up for, in life, for the way she was... treated."
"Have... you ever thought, of trying to find her? Sending her a letter? It appears you care for her deeply, Marshall, and... I think she may have cared deeply for you, too," Nadia said, leaping down from Shadow's back to stand close to the duke. He looked away, vexed again with doubt; that same doubt, creeping back, and Nadia tried to plead silently with him not to shut her out.
"I doubt very much Leah wants to hear from anyone, wherever she's gone, and I can't rightly blame her, m'lady. I've got a lot to repent for," Lord Beckham responded, and Lady Havenshire could see the storm brewing in his eyes as dark shadows fell across the both of them.
Unfortunately, the storm in Lord Beckham's soul was not the only storm brewing at that particular moment in time. As Nadia drew closer, trying to comfort the sullen duke, a loud thunderclap shattered their moment together; startled, the two nobles looked to the sky, only noticing all too late that a thunderstorm had darkened the moors and forests of the Emerys estate. Nadia hastily glanced across the fields - they had spent all morning riding, into the afternoon, and had ranged too far for the two of them to make it back safe to the manor in time.
"The storm doesn't seem interested in waiting for us to complete this particular conversation," Lord Beckham said, his voice once again strong, alluring; and now, full of duty, as he searched for a resolution to their particular situation. A slow panic set into Nadia's mind; she hadn't realized just how far they had ranged, nor had she been paying attention to the weather, and she quietly cursed herself.
"I'm... sorry, I'm not certain that Pierre can make it terribly far in heavy rains," she said, voice warbling. Lord Beckham comforted Nadia's fear, stroking her tied-back tail of flowing hair as he quickly thought on a decision; another thunderclap echoed overhead.
"You spoke of your father tearing down the hunting lodges and cabins, though - generally, estates like these have gamesman or warden cabins - do you remember any, possibly still standing, out in the woods?" Lord Beckham said. "I'd presume they'd be located... back, the route we came, in the deepest part of the forest."
"Y-yes!" Nadia recalled. "I... I don't think Father has had it torn down since last I lived on the estate, but a gamekeeper's cabin once laid in the heart of the forest's edge here, if we can—" a loud crash of thunder, a flash of lightning, and a light, dewy misting of rain fell down upon them all at once, and with each movement intent, Lord Beckham grasped Pierre's bridle; the horse whinnied, and he set Lady Havenshire upon her steed with great, effusive strength.
"We must be hasty, ride ahead of the storm as best we can," he insisted. Nadia blinked at the sudden strength shown by the man, but she had little time to contemplate now, driving Shadow back into the darkness of the forest as the lightning and thunder nipped at the horse's hooves.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Here!"
She heard his voice pierce through the waves of rain falling overhead; cascading, wet waves, sheets of the stuff now coating her, soaking through her thin riding jacket. She shivered as Shadow trotted and whinnied in protest, feeling the fear and the chill running down Nadia's back. Lord Beckham's cry felt like utter providence; she pulled back on the reins of her steed, who took off through the thickets and blanket of fallen leaves into the forest like an arrow plunging to its target. Na
dia held close, a shiver rocking her frame as she held on tight, hearing only the soft patter of her shocked pulse reacting to the cold. Lord Beckham had gone ahead in search of the cabin; she remembered it from her childhood, and the grumpy, strange man who had lived out in the woods; one bulging eye, clad always in clumsily-sewn furs, occasionally dragging reams of sliced venison in a cart for her father to serve during dinner banquets.
"M'lady?" she heard him cry out in concern as another thunderous crack struck the sky, lightning creasing through coal-gray clouds. She raised her hoarse voice to assure him, but she could speak barely above a whisper, the cold soaking through into her bones. A painful eternity passed before they arrived at a small clearing, Shadow hopping over a fallen, rotted log and a handful of gnarled, aged branches as she saw him there in the doorway; her peculiar, but strong, savior. Her breath ragged she gripped tightly to Shadow as the horse brought her alongside Pierre, who had already decided to take a rest in the mud again, rain splattering against the creature's back.
"M'lady, I'm begging your pardon, but you look quite dreadful," Lord Beckham joked as her arm across his shoulders and hoisted the soaked, cold, tired woman off of her horse's back. The position brought to her pained memories of her father, struggling to make it up the stairs, and she shook her soaked dreams loose and pulled herself up proudly, not willing to let a man do her walking for her.
"I... I'll be just f-fine," her lips chattered at the cold along her skin, and she shivered her way through puddles of mud and overgrown, marshy grasses, her boots now sloshing as water and mud snuck through the leather and clung to her stockings. Her legs shaky, she nearly lost her balance in the mire - Lord Beckham was quick to grasp and steady her, though he kept his distance, not wanting to patronize the proud woman with the offer of unnecessary help. She smiled glibly, not sure if he had come to recognize her as an equal quite yet... but it was a nice step.
Regency Romance Omnibus 2018: Dominate Dukes & Tenacious Women Page 24