'No, definitely not. I have said I shall ride him and ride him I shall.' They had reached the three acre meadow in which the house cows and miscellaneous poultry lived. The gate latch was stiff and Sultan refused to stand still and allow Sebastian to open it. Without a second thought Emily stepped up and removed the bridle from her cousin's hand.
'Stop that, silly boy;' she murmured as she walked him in a small, tight circle. The horse was so surprised to be led by such a small human that he lowered his huge head and nuzzled her back. 'That's better; I don't understand what all the fuss is about.'
'The gate is open. Bring him in,' Sebastian snapped, annoyed that his horse was behaving like a donkey with his smug cousin.
Emily led Sultan into the field and heard the gate clang with an unnecessarily loud bang behind her, making Sultan shy violently, lifting her off her feet for a second.
'It's all right, boy, it's only a silly gate. Slammed by a silly person. Calm down now.'
Sebastian almost snatched the reins back. 'You had better adjust the leathers to suit you. I shall hold him for you.'
She held the stirrup under her arm, the quickest way to judge the length she needed, and moved the buckle up five holes. She went round to alter the other and was then ready to mount. She knew Sebastian was expecting her to back down; she would not give him the satisfaction. She gathered up the reins. She could barely reach the horses withers; she bent back her leg and felt
Sebastian take it and then she was in the saddle and Sultan was her responsibility.
She settled herself more securely and slackened the reins, allowing Sultan to flex his neck, or had he so desired, to take hold of the bit and bolt off with her. She heard a sharp intake of breath beside her and knew her cousin was regretting his rash move and was about to step back and grab the bridle.
She clicked her tongue and squeezed her legs firmly and the horse moved away smoothly into a perfect, balanced trot. Emily relaxed; the handsome chestnut was a joy to ride, the most responsive mount she had ever had
She pushed him into a canter and took him in a figure of eight around the paddock. On the second circuit she asked him for a flying change and he obliged. She forgot everything in the exhilaration of the experience. She was unaware that she was showing an indecent amount of leg or that she had attracted a large audience of grooms and stable hands as word of her exploits had spread round the yard.
She rode Sultan for twenty minutes before deciding it was time to allow him to return to his box. After all, he had already been ridden hard by his owner all afternoon. She reined in smoothly at the gate, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling. It was only then she noticed the row of grinning faces lined up against the fence.
Good heavens, had the entire staff of Westerham come out to see her? She also became aware that her cousin was not sharing her pleasure. Sebastian was standing, arms folded, his full lips curled in supercilious disdain.
Her heart plummeted. Why had she allowed pride to push her into such a situation? She could feel the warm afternoon breeze cooling her bare calves and knew she had made a dreadful error of judgement. In the space of twenty short minutes she had destroyed her precious reputation. She had also brought disgrace to her mother and her grandfather.
Shamefaced, she did not wait for assistance to dismount. She swung her leg over the saddle and dropped expertly to the ground. She patted Sultan's neck, after all it was not his fault she had made an exhibition of herself and outwardly calm she handed his reins to a waiting groom.
Without bothering to speak she turned and walked through the open gate, and head held high, the sun glinting on her russet hair, she stalked, apparently unconcerned, back to the house.
Once inside she flew up the stairs and ran along the passageways. It was far too late to worry about scandalizing the staff with such immodest behaviour. Her sitting room was mercifully empty; at least her sisters were not there to witness her humiliation. She found her maid in the box room that was now her own.
'Jenny, can you prepare me a hot bath. I shall not get dressed again. I'm going to retire. I have a severe megrim.'
Her abigail wisely refrained from commenting on the fact that her mistress smelled strongly of horse and her once clean dress was now liberally covered with chestnut hair. Nor did she remind Emily that it was her sister Amelia who normally suffered from sick headaches, not her.
Somewhat restored by her total immersion in warm water, Emily retired to her imposing, old-fashioned, four-poster bed, and firmly pulled the heavy damask curtains around her. She had always considered such beds as suitable only for elderly folk but that afternoon she was grateful she could hide in the privacy the drapes created.
In the pink gloom, little sunlight filtered through the heavy material, she sat and considered her position. She had been at Westerham scarcely a day and had already managed to offend just about everyone she had met. She had vomited in the bushes in front of Mr Foster, caused her
grandfather to lose his temper and offended her, extremely high in the instep, Cousin Sebastian, not once but twice.
It was a good thing she no longer had to persuade him to marry her. She would never forget the look of absolute disgust on his face as he leant casually against the paddock fence. It would be forever etched on her mind. She did not care that he held her in dislike for her opinion of him was equally dismal.
However the good opinion of both her mother and grandfather were quite a different matter. Her behaviour would have been considered unacceptable even for Millie. And as she was still legally under the control of the earl, he could administer whatever punishment he felt she deserved. If it had been Amelia at fault she supposed he could order a sound spanking, but she was reasonably sure she would be considered too old to receive such treatment.
Slowly her lips curled in a rueful smile. She was actually disciplining herself. After all she had put herself to bed at five o'clock in the afternoon without any supper, had she not? As her empty stomach grumbled alarmingly, she realized it was going to be a very long and uncomfortable time until breakfast.
Emily stretched out her aching limbs, for it had been so long since she had last ridden her body was protesting, and settled down. Her only recourse was to try and sleep the hours away. Unfortunately her dreams were not happy. She spent the entire night being pursued by irate persons of varying ages and sizes but all of them, without exception, possessed a pair of startlingly blue eyes.
* * * *
Sebastian watched Emily walk away and, in spite of his disgust at her total disregard for the acceptable proprieties, he felt a small measure of admiration at her courage. He pushed himself away from the fence and. ignoring the speculative stares of the staff, strolled off in the direction of
the house. He found himself grinning as he pictured his cousin riding his horse so superbly; he was forced to admit that he had never seen a better female rider and neither were there many men who could manage a spirited stallion like Sultan the way she had.
He had accepted her inappropriate challenge expecting her to renege, giving him the welcome opportunity to administer a sharp set-down. If he had thought for a moment that she actually intended to ride, astride, in her walking dress, he would never have agreed. Now she had disgraced herself in front of half the outside staff. A lady would never have exposed herself to such ridicule, even to prove a point.
He shuddered to think what the earl would say when he heard, as inevitably he would, about her exploits. And the wretched girl's poor mother, what of her? She was obviously unwell; would her daughter's unpardonable behaviour cause Lady Althea to suffer a relapse?
He stopped. It was as though someone had thrown an icy bucket of water over his head. How could he be castigating his cousin when the entire episode was entirely his fault? She could not have ridden if he had not only agreed, but actively given her the assistance she needed to mount.
He felt his face suffuse with unaccustomed shame. What had come over him? He was a diplomat, renowned for his level headedness and sharp intellect, but he had allowed himself to be drawn into an appalling escapade solely because his pride had been dented.
He swore, vilely, to himself, and lashed out at a nearby pedestal upon which a shiny marble cherub rested. The agonizing pain that shot up his foot was enough to bring him to his senses. It was his fault. He had somehow to make amends. He was a gentleman and he could not allow his cousin to be blamed for something that was his responsibility. For her to lose her good name would be intolerable, he could see that now. But how he was to save her from certain ruin he had not the slightest notion.
The earl explained to him his only course of action, in no uncertain terms. 'Good God, boy, this is a disaster! It is of your making, what were you thinking of? Word of Emily's exploits will be all over the county by morning. Your stupid behaviour has ruined the reputation of an unspoiled country miss. She did not know that what she proposed would destroy her. You certainly did.'
Sebastian almost hung his head. He had not felt so wretched since he was a schoolboy and been reprimanded for a childish prank. How was it possible that a dowdy, beanpole of a chit, had caused him to behave so badly when enraged Prussian generals had failed to move him?
'I accept full responsibility for the incident, sir. It should never have happened. I know that. It was inexcusable of me to allow my cousin to ride astride, in public, improperly dressed.'
His great-grandfather snorted. 'Are you trying to imply, sir, that if she had been wearing a habit and ridden in private that such a display would have been acceptable?'
'No, of course, I am not. I just meant…' he stopped, there was nothing to say. He was guilty as charged and ready to do whatever it took to put things right. If Sebastian had seen his grandfather's satisfied smile whilst he was staring morosely at his boots, he might have been more alert. Might have reacted more quickly, been able to extricate himself from the trap.
'And I have your word that you are prepared to do whatever it takes to remedy the situation?'
'Yes, sir, you have.'
'Very well; you have no alternative, you must offer for Emily. The only way her reputation can be salvaged is by becoming your fiancé. People will forgive what takes place between a betrothed couple, however outlandish it might be.'
Sebastian's head shot up, his eyes wide, his complexion white. He met the implacable stare and knew he had no choice. 'I agree, my lord. I will offer for her tomorrow.'
'Well done, my boy; you have made the right decision.' The Earl of Westerham left, chuckling happily, leaving the prospective bridegroom sitting, head in his hands, in total misery. It was not just Emily's life that had been ruined by his stupidity, he had also ruined his own.
Chapter Six
The late September sun poured through the window bathing the room in golden light. Emily didn't notice. She was preparing herself to brave the outside world, to face the inevitable sniggers and sneers from the hundreds of Westerham staff who knew, even better than its occupants, exactly how a lady should behave.
The mantle clock struck eight. Was it too early to venture down in search of sustenance? She hoped she would feel more confident when her hunger was satisfied, but she doubted it.
'Jenny, do you think there is any food put out in the breakfast parlour?'
'Shall I go down and find out, miss? You don't want to have a wasted journey.'
Whist she waited for her maid's return Emily paced the room quite unaware what an attractive picture she presented. Her normally pale cheeks were prettily flushed, her eyes sparkled and the sun shone in her russet hair. But although the small waist and flowing skirt of her sage green dress flattered her, even to the most partial of viewers, she was over thin. The front of her bodice was little fuller than the back.
'They are putting out the chafing dishes now, miss. His lordship likes to break his fast early, I am told.'
'Thank you, Jenny. I will go down. I have to face him sometime, I suppose.'
A footman sprung to attention at her approach, barely hiding his smile. He opened the parlour door with an exaggerated flourish and showed her in.
* * * *
The room was not empty. Viscount Yardley was at that very moment piling his plate high with a mixture of sliced ham, coddled eggs and field mushrooms. He had had little sleep and his face was drawn and grey. When he heard the door open he looked up, his expression irritated. This instantly changed to absolute horror when he saw who had interrupted him. Was there to be no respite? Surely a condemned man could be allowed to eat his last meal in peace?
* * * *
Emily saw his expression and instantly her hackles rose. In her long, mostly sleepless, night she had come to the same conclusion as her grandfather. She would not be in this mess if it was not for the man staring so rudely at her. She was tempted to retreat and leave him to eat his meal in peace but she was famished and, however disagreeable her cousin, she was not going to leave the room without filling her empty stomach.
Sebastian nodded, his brimming plate still in his hand, and Emily nodded back. She knew the correct etiquette was for a lady to be seated and the gentleman to wait on her. Should she sit or help herself? Her stomach gurgled alarmingly and made the decision for her.
The plates were still warm and the food smelt appetizing. Ladies didn't pile their plates but Emily didn't care; she had been half starved for the last two years and now her body craved nourishment. Ignoring her cousin she put a random selection of hot food on her plate and took it to the far end of the long dining table. Then she returned for several slices of hot toast and a large pat of freshly churned butter.
She heard what sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter, quickly repressed, and glanced up. Sebastian was having difficulty containing his mirth.