Lady Bess (3 page)

“Oh, how wonderful that would be, if only to show up that dratted Sweeny. He is forever cutting in front of us when we hunt, and he made the fuss about not letting females race today.”

The hunt master put up his hand for silence; when this did not work, he rapped on the table with his riding crop.

Chatter died down, and everyone looked expectedly up at the hunt master. He cleared his throat and thanked the wives of various members of the hunt for the hospitality booth with its wonderful cakes and sweets. He thanked the subscribers who helped set up the fences for the race and those who plotted it out with their arrows and markers to indicate the route. He thanked all the participants for their enthusiasm, and then one jolly participant interrupted him and shouted out jovially, “Come on, Art, get on with it.”

This made all and one break out with laughter. When this died down, the master once again cleared his throat and said with a
look
at Lady Bess, “And now, I suppose it is time for the ribbons, eh?”

Jesting and a bit of tomfoolery ensued, and once again the gathered group had to wait till this died down. The master of the hunt then announced the ‘turtle award’ for the slowest team, and that went to Fleet and his friend Jeff.

Once again, back slapping and jesting ensued, and once again the master had to rap the table with his crop.

The next few moments went by with Bess and Donna both holding their breath each time another set of ribbons were handed out. Nine ribbons had been awarded when the master announced that only one minute kept second and first place apart. Second place was handed out, and Bess’s hopes rose.

Was it possible? Had they taken first place?

They knew from past experience that it was a rare thing for a female to race, let alone be awarded a prize over a male. Usually, if the race was close, it went to the male riders.

However, the master of the hunt regarded them with some affection and a wide grin to say, “And so, first place goes to two of our favorites. They have worked for this hunt since they were old enough to ride to hounds. They have taken their tumbles and jumped right up and dusted themselves off, and now it gives me great pleasure to say that after checking and re-checking, our dear Lady Bess and Lady Mabry … come up here and get your blue!”

It was some time afterwards, during which a great deal of congratulations and hugging took place, that Bess turned and found the Earl of Dunkirk’s blue, so blue, eyes on her. She found herself flushed over the fact.

He grinned as he murmured, “Congratulations, lass. I see this race is a major event here.”

“Oh, I suppose we are making too much out of it … you must think it all very silly,” Bess said, her lashes shading her eyes as she looked at her boots.

“I doona think that at all, lass. I think it … refreshing.”

She saw that his smile always seemed to start in his eyes and was immediately drawn to him. This was awful, she told herself.

He was a rogue, Donna had said. He probably was no doubt laughing at her inwardly. She was sure he saw her as nothing more than a chit just out of school.

Well, but, she wasn’t. She had already enjoyed a London Season, she had just turned twenty, and if only she could stop acting like a fool … say something intelligent, but nothing, absolutely nothing came out of her mouth. All she could do was smile like a simpleton at him.

Sir George Fleetwood came up behind her at that moment, picked her up bodily, and swung her around. “See that!” he exclaimed in high glee. “My girl sweeps them all off the map.” He set her down and winked at her. “Knew you would. As soon as the old man said that you and Donna would be allowed to race with the big boys, knew you two would take it. Stands to reason.”

Bess laughed, not at all disturbed with his ‘manhandling’. They had been friends since they were able to crawl. “Stands to reason?” she returned. “Stands to whose reason?”

“Mine and anyone who has ever seen you hunt. Know how to get the best out of your animal. Now all you have to worry about is your horse’s suspensory. It was pretty muddy out there, but your man, I see, is already applying a treatment.”

An inclination of his head made Bess turn and exclaim, “Oh, Isaac is the best, isn’t he? Knows just what to do,” and then with a sudden frown she said, “Fleet, did you see something? Was she off? I didn’t feel it …”

“No, she wasn’t even stiff, but good idea to look after her like he is. As you said, he is a good man,” Fleetwood acknowledged.

The earl said quietly, “She’ll do. Doona worry yer head over it. I saw him walk her out, and she wasn’t in any discomfort.”

Bess breathed a sigh of relief but noticed that her friend’s eyes had narrowed as he inspected the earl. She laughed and introduced them. “Sir George … the Earl of Dunkirk.”

They shook hands, and she smiled at the earl. “Well, if you think she is in good shape, then it must be so.”

Sir George reacted by putting his hands on his hips and exclaiming, “If
he
thinks so? What about me?”

“What about you?” Lady Bess teased with a light laugh.

“George, my boy,” said Bess’s father, coming up at that moment to put a hand on Sir George’s shoulder, “we are getting up an impromptu dinner at the Grange tonight. Do you come?”

“Indeed, with great pleasure.” The tall, thin youth smiled happily, though he turned and pulled a face at Bess.

“Excellent,” Lord Saunders said as he took his daughter’s arm to lead her away. He smiled at the Earl of Dunkirk and added as they started off, “I look forward to welcoming you to our home later, my lord.”

“Thank you,” Dunkirk said, his eyes traveling to smile at Lady Bess.

She was once again riveted by his smile. It was, as was the ‘look’ in his eyes, so very intense, and then he openly did something—something he meant for her to see. His deep blue gaze journeyed over her body from the top of her head, right down to the toes of her riding boots.

She felt the heat rush through her blood and slam into her cheeks.

Men usually did look her over. Her mother had always told her it was ‘the nature of the beast’, and they had laughed over it, but never before had a man, any man, ever meant for her to see him doing this.

A sudden super-charged energy flowed through her and sent her mind into a frenzy of jumbling thoughts. She felt thrilled, naughty, yes, but thrilled all the same. He was the most magnetically attractive man she had ever met, and he had actually looked her over.

He then ruined it all when he said, “And will the Lady Bess be joining the adults this evening?” His eyes twinkled at her.

She almost choked on her own saliva as she put up her chin. “The Lady Bess has already enjoyed a London Season, my lord! Just how old do you think I am?”

“Not old enough, my beauty, not old enough,” he said on a laugh before turning his attention to Robby, who was calling his attention to something else.

Of all the most odious things, thought Bess. He thought her no more than a schoolgirl!

~ Two ~

THOUGH BESS HAD CHOSEN her gown with care, she frowned as she studied herself in the long looking glass. Why did nothing bring out the woman in her? Everything she’d put on thus far made her look too young, and she was determined to show him after his remark that she was most certainly ‘old enough’!

Why hadn’t she paid more attention to her wardrobe? None of her gowns were provocative enough. She wanted to appear womanly and sensual. She wanted the earl to take note.

The bodice of her gown was not low enough, the material not transparent enough. Then she had a notion. She hurriedly removed the gown, turned the blue velvet inside out, removed the thick lace trim from the scooped neckline, and shrugged back into it. The swells of her breasts were just visible, yet not saucy enough to bring down censure.

She brushed her long black hair and took it up to the top of her head. She twirled various tresses and pinned them in place, weaving the matching blue ribbon between the curls.

She stepped back and was as satisfied as she was going to be. She took up a pretty light cream-colored knit shawl and draped it over her arm. She wasn’t wearing gloves, as it was an informal dinner and she preferred not to, though her father would raise a brow. It had not been easy for him since they lost her mother four years ago, but he was the best of good fathers.

Maddy stuck her head in and beamed at her. “Ah, oh, but, my love, my dear, how exquisite you are.”

She went to her nanny, who had become part of her family and remained with them, and gave her a hug. “What about you, Maddy? Aren’t you going to change into something pretty and come down?”

“Oh, no, love. I am going to my room, get into my nightdress, and have a wonderful read.” She smiled sweetly at her and said, “Now off with you. I just wanted to see you before you went down.

Maddy left her at the staircase and went to her own quarters down the hall, and Bess turned to the wide oak staircase.

As she descended the stairs, their butler opened the front door wide and her father’s friends the Huxleys walked inside beside Dunkirk, who saw her at once.

He directed his gaze her way and smiled mischievously as though they shared some secret, and she wondered at it.

He handed his black, many tiered great coat and his top hat to their butler and stepped closer to the staircase landing. Mrs. Huxley chattered at him as he moved away from them and continued to look her way.

Suddenly their eyes met, and Bess saw a look of male appreciation in his. She knew that look. She had had quite an education during her first Season on the London scene.

His look filled her with anticipation, and this feeling spread through her with a sense of wild abandon. However, she was immediately deflated when he looked away from her to respond to something a new arrival, Annabelle Wilkes, had said to him. The older woman had just arrived alone, and Bess hesitated on the next step as she watched him politely hand Annabelle off to the Huxleys, who were on their way to the ballroom.

Bess managed the last of the steps, unable to look his way lest he look back at her and see her doing so. No wonder, she thought, he must think her too young to take seriously—she was certainly feeling and must be therefore acting like an absurd girl instead of a sophisticated woman.

The next thing she knew, he had somehow managed to span the distance across the central hall and arrive at the foot of the staircase to take her fingers lightly in his hand in greeting.

His smile held and mesmerized her. His blue eyes glittered and made her heart flutter, and his voice stroked her when he said, “Ye look ravishing, Lady Elizabeth.”

“
Bess
, please. I have grown quite used to my nickname over the years and find that I prefer it … and thank you.” She openly looked him over with a twinkle in her eyes, knowing she was being absolutely outrageous. “So do you.”

He nearly snorted with his amusement but restrained himself so that he could instead gently kiss her fingers. His eyes were alight as he came up to answer, “Ye are very generous, lass. Ravishing, am I? And so I wish I could be, so long as it pleased ye.”

She took away her hand.

Stunned. She felt stunned by everything he said—everything he did. This was the man she had been waiting for. Here was that knight riding across the battlefield to scoop her up and take her away. She loved the way his blonde hair fell around and framed his handsome face. She loved his cavalier, even presumptuous style, but she had to get control of herself. She had on this meeting already gone a bit too far.

He obviously felt her withdrawal and seemed to find it amusing. He probably found her amusing, as one often found children amusing. Her pride kicked in and made her want to put up her chin and saunter off. She had been right to believe he was merely dallying with a child. He was simply amusing himself in the moment, nothing more.

He said, “Lady Bess, then. ’Tis pretty enough, ye know, but I fear I doona like it as much as I like the name Elizabeth. I think I shall call ye Elizabeth.”

She wrinkled her nose and looked up at him. “Oh, please do not—
I would not
like that at all.”

He looked surprised. “Such vehemence, lass? Why not, then?”

She sighed and avoided his blue, inquiring eyes. “You will think it silly.”

“Will I? I doona think so. Nothing could be silly coming from yer lips.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “You are teasing me, and I am not fooled. I know you think me no more than a schoolgirl,” she said with a rueful shake of her head.

He laughed out loud and touched her elbow to stop her from walking any further towards the drawing room, and she was forced to look askance up at him as he said, “How should I think ye such a thing, when any dolt can see ye be a woman fully grown. In fact, I think someone told me ye just turned twenty.” He shook his head. “Nearly an old maid then.”

She giggled and wagged a finger in mock rebuke. “An old maid, indeed, my lord.” She then eyed him and asked, “Did someone suggest such an awful thing? Old maid, humph.”

“Aye, for a certain. Mrs. Huxley gave it as her considered opinion that any young woman past the age of twenty would find it difficult to make a match,” he answered promptly. “Only this afternoon, she told me ye were out an entire season, and though ye had offers a plenty, ye took to none. Said if ye weren’t careful ye would end an old maid as ye had just turned twenty.”

Bess laughed and then grimaced at him teasingly. “Why were you even talking about me?”

“Aye then, as we were all planning to coom here for dinner tonight, yer name very naturally came up,” he said.

“To what end? To call me an ‘old maid’? That does not fadge.”

He chuckled. “As it happened, lass, I asked aboot ye. I wanted to know how it was such a beauty as yerself had not yet been snapped up.”

She felt her cheeks get hot and cast him a quick glance. “You are quizzing me.”

“Aboot what?” He looked surprised.

“That you should call me a beauty after what you must be used to,” she answered easily.

“M’lovely Lady Bess, ye canna be unaware of yer looks? I am no offering ye a piece of flattery, mark me on that.” He had an easy smile and gave it to her as though reassurance of his words before he asked, “So, tell me, how is it ye aren’t engaged yet?”

“Why not ask Mrs. Huxley that question,” she said with a tease in her voice, “the next time you two choose to gossip about me?”

“I already did, and she directed me to ask ye,” he said easily.

Bess laughed. “Well, I should think the answer rather obvious. I was not in love with any of my very fine suitors. I do not wish to marry for convenience.” She felt herself blush, as she didn’t know this man well enough to discuss such a private matter.

He surprised her further by asking softly, “And what of Fleetwood? Ye two seemed destined,” he said and smiled encouragingly at her. “Ye look shocked, lass. But ye must realize that the two of ye seem much in accord with one another.”

She
was
shocked, shocked at his daring to pose such an intimate question. All at once, though, friends surrounded them, allowing no opportunity to respond to his provocative remark.

Donna arrived with Robby in tow, but she sent him off. She then nudged Bess and stepped back to twirl for her and asked, “What do you think? Is not this gown lovely? You didn’t think the color would suit me, but it does, doesn’t it?”

Bess bit her bottom lip and agreed, “Indeed, Donna, I was wrong, and this shade of brown and gold suits you quite well. I suppose I thought it a bit daring, but then you are married and may do so.” It was too late to do anything about it. Donna had insisted on buying this gown, and the truth was she was too large a woman for its busy print. Reaching up and touching her dangling auburn curl, Bess said, “I like your hair tonight. The style makes you look like a Greek goddess.”

“As soon as you are wed, you
can
wear a daring gown like this!” Donna teased.

“Ah, but perhaps I need something more daring than I have to catch the interest of the man I wish to wed,” said Bess archly.

“Oh, no, Bessy, what are you saying? Get that Scotsman out of your head. He is not for you. He is an outrageous flirt, and I see he has already caught your interest far too much. This will not do. Robby says he is a confirmed bachelor and if he marries anyone, it will be that wretched woman, Lady Sonhurst.”

“Hmmm, I was forgetting the Lady Sonhurst,” Bess said thoughtfully and glanced towards the earl. Just at that moment, he looked her way, and their eyes met. She felt her heart shaken loose from her chest as it broke free and flew across the room into his hands. Whatever was wrong with her? She had to get control. This was absurd.

Sir George Fleetwood arrived at that moment. He had dressed, it appeared to Bess, with more concern than usual. He wore a dark blue cutaway that fitted his tall and lanky self quite nicely. His brown hair was combed in the windswept style, and his hazel eyes came to life as he found hers and called her name, even as he put away the distance between them in long, hard strides.

She and ‘Fleet’, as she had always called him, stood on no ceremony whatsoever. He arrived before her, took her hands, and held her away to say, “Stunning little pet!”

Donna rapped his arm and did a twirl for him. “What do you think of my gown?”

He eyed her. “Too busy, and brown even with the gold makes you look like a dowager. And I don’t like the fandangles at the shoulders—makes you look absurd.”

“Oh,” said Donna, touching the beaded short sleeves of her gown, “I loved the beads.”

“Do not pay him any mind. He is a man—what does he know about high fashion?” Bess said and laughed.

Sir George didn’t reply to this, and in fact, Bess doubted that he had even listened to it. He was already off and heading for her father. She shook her head and said to her friend, “He seems rattled tonight. I wonder why.”

“He always seems rattled,” Donna said and laughed.

They were both whisked away by other guests, and it was a few moments before Bess made her way back towards her friend. She looked at Fleet for a long moment. Why had the earl thought that she and Fleet were anything other than friends? It was silly. True, he, along with Robby and Donna, had been neighbors and friends since childhood, and when Robby and Donna had paired off, Fleet had sometimes accompanied Bess to local events. And Fleet was very dear, but she had never thought of him in a romantic fashion. He was not much more than a boy, while the earl … oh, the earl was a man.

However, when she gave herself to someone, she wanted that someone to be a man who wanted to give himself completely to her. She didn’t see the earl as that sort. Thus, she was in a quandary. Perhaps Donna was right and she had better just forget him while she still could?

It was at this precise moment that she glanced towards the earl and he turned to once more lock his gaze with hers in a look that sent heat rushing through her body. She was more than attracted by this big, handsome man. She knew all about such things, for she and Donna had discussed the subject of lovemaking and what it entailed. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what she was feeling, and it was saucy—very, very saucy.

“Bess, where are you? Come back to me,” Donna said.

“What?” Bess turned her head.

“I have been talking to you for a few moments, and all you do is sigh. Where are you?” She clucked. “I know where. You are daydreaming about that Scotsman. You must forget him, Bess. He is not for you.”

“Indeed, so you keep telling me,” Bess said with uncharacteristic meekness. “I understand—I am not stupid. He is not for me.”

“Really, you understand that?” Donna said doubtfully.

“I dashed well do, but that won’t stop me from … er … looking,” Bess said and giggled.