Pride and Retribution (12 page)

Robert, who was already on his horse, galloped out of the yard in pursuit
as Lucy reached Jonny. She looked up at another groom. ‘Send for Doctor Keyes at once!’ She barked. She stroked her fingers over the boy’s bloody face and checked that his pulse was still going. Lucy looked up at the horse nearest to her and was gratified to see that the saddle hadn’t been put on it yet. She lurched to her feet and yanked the horse blanket off and carefully wrapped it around the boy. Very carefully, she went to lift him, but Wilfred’s hands removed hers.

‘Where would you like me to take him?’ Wilfred asked softly and lifted the boy with ease.

‘This way.’ She said anxiously and she led him back towards the monastery stud. ‘All the grooms are housed in the old monk’s quarters.’ As they rounded the main building they were greeted by a gaggle of weeping women, as Jonny’s mother arrived and tried to take him from Wilfred. Lucy restrained her. ‘Maggie, let the Earl take him to his room and lay him on the bed. The horse stomped on him and I’ve sent for Doctor Keyes.’

‘He’s bleeding from his head!’ she wailed.

‘Brutus just clipped his head. It will probably be no worse than a concussion, but his chest is a different matter. Now let the Earl through please.’ In the end Lucy had to barge her way through and Wilfred had only just laid him on a bunk when Doctor Keyes arrived.

‘Miss Hastings, what happened?’ He asked Lucy quietly at the door.
After she explained the circumstances he chased everyone from the room but Maggie.

‘
Do you intend to ride, or shall you wait?’ Wilfred asked softly.

Lucy looked up surprised. ‘I intend to wait.’ She said firmly before she frowned at him. ‘But if you wish to ride, go ahead. I understand that the sick room is not every man’s cup of tea.’

‘No, I’ll wait with you if that’s all right?’ Wilfred smiled sinfully at her and again she felt her breath hitch in her throat as the colour rose to her cheeks.

‘As you wish.’ She murmured and leaned back against the wall in the hallway.

‘You knew he would rear, didn’t you?’ Wilfred asked softly. ‘That’s why you hurried towards him.’

‘I need to speak to Jethro and ask why he felt young Jonny could cope with Brutus. We all know he’s skittish in a crowd and the more noise there is, the more unsettled he becomes.’ Lucy sighed and shook her head. ‘Phyllida Allen’s laugh made matters ten times worse.’

Evelyn arrived at that moment. ‘Lucy? You and the Earl should go for your ride. I’ll take care of this matter now.’

‘I just want to wait until Doctor Keyes has finished his diagnosis.’

‘No, you don’t need to.’ She put her hand on Lucy’s shoulder. ‘You are missing the best part of your day, now be gone and leave this to me!’ Evelyn almost sounded like a General on the battlefield. Lucy frowned and squirmed, but in the end she did go.

There was still a crowd in the yard as she and Wilfred arrived back. Her little grey mare was standing patiently waiting. ‘That’s an unusual saddle.’ Wilfred murmured as he looked at the hook for her right leg. Unlike the moulded saddles ladies usually used, Lucy’s was a specially converted standard saddle that her Uncle had had made for her. The knee hook was
detachable, so that Lucy could let down the right stirrup and ride astride if necessary.

‘I sometimes find it necessary to ride astride and a normal side saddle is restrictive.’ Lucy said quietly as she offered her left foot for him to assist her. Wilfred sucked in his breath as his left palm cradled her knee and his right clutched her ankle. As he lifted her, he noticed his palm twinge from something digging into it
, not knowing it was the buckle on her britches, and Lucy quickly twisted her backside onto the saddle. He carefully fitted her left foot into the stirrup and was sorely tempted to trace his fingers up her leg to the soft, silky area behind her knee. But he didn’t get the chance. He had stood for too long with his hand on her ankle as visions of her astride him filled his head. ‘Is there something wrong?’ She asked pointedly and Wilfred looked up guiltily and smoothed his hand over her boot leather. He had been so wrapped up in his vision that he’d missed her hook her right knee around the brace and settled her skirts.

‘No. I was just admiring your boot.’ He said and stepped back.

She laughed delightedly. ‘They were a gift from my father. He had them specially made in India for me.’

Lucy watched the Earl mount his black stallion and dutifully trotted alongside him as they left the stable yard.
She was finding his company disconcerting. She knew his reputation, yet she was finding his attention flattering. During the season she had noticed him at all the main functions, standing over his sister’s shoulder and she could marvel at his good looks. He was handsome, there was no denying it and he was such a fine figure of a man, lithe and graceful and his efficiency at dancing had truly astonished her. Whenever she looked at him, she felt a flutter in her stomach as if she had a belly full of butterflies trying to get out and her heart squeezed in her chest. She told herself she was being ridiculous and that a man like the Earl wouldn’t look twice at a spinster like her, one that was almost on the shelf. At least not until he sought a wife, and then it would be some innocent teenager fresh from the schoolroom with the right bloodlines to breed the next Duke of Dovedale. He would marry some biddable girl and turn her into a brood mare, while keeping a mistress to satisfy his base urges! She slowly shook her head as she remembered her Uncle say “Buxton? Got more women than a Turkish harem!” She sighed deeply. Would somebody like the Earl ever really look at her? She sincerely doubted it. She clicked her tongue and urged her horse on ahead.

Wilfred was sitting in the saddle trying to think of something to say. He was aware of the woman beside him on so many levels it was actually frightening. He could hear the rustle of her gown as she moved with her mount; he could smell her faint perfume and he could feel her presence as if she was radiating heat and awareness. Wilfred was fighting the urge to sweep her off her horse, cradle her in his arms, kiss her silly and take her back to the house to undress her and make love to her for the rest of the day. His palms literally
itched to feel her breasts in them and his manhood was straining the fit of his britches with the erotic visions that kept flitting through his mind’s eye. But what Wilfred found truly disturbing was that hollow feeling in his gut and the clenching sensation in his chest, as if his heart were being squeezed. Never before had he experienced such an irrational longing for any woman. He was as profligate as the next bachelor, taking mistresses when he wanted one, dallying with widows and married women when he didn’t and to fill the in-between gaps, there were always Cyprians to take wherever he pleased. He recalled his last Cyprian, against a tree at Vauxhall Gardens and couldn’t even remember what she looked like. He was astonished to realise that he could see Lucy everywhere, but all the other women were fading away, as if they were unimportant. It was a revelation of astronomical proportions and he was loathe to admit what it meant. He had tried denial, but he was shocked to realise that his feelings were definitely engaged. Just as Harriet said, this was no small matter and marriage was the only option. He decided that he would have to talk to Robert Hastings before this week was over.

‘Have you been to many house parties?’ Lucy asked as she peered over her shoulder at him. She could see horsemen behind them and recognised Benjamin easily.

‘I’ve attended a few.’ Wilfred said on a sigh, ‘I usually find them intensely boring!’

‘Is this one boring?’ She asked with an impish smile as he pulled up alongside her mount.

He looked at her openly. ‘Not yet.’ He murmured. ‘That’s a fine oak tree, how long has it been here?’ He asked and turned his mount onto the meadow. They cantered over to the huge tree.

Lucy pulled her horse to a standstill and smiled up at the old oak tree. ‘It is said that it was planted by Edward Longshanks on his way north to deal with the recalcitrant scots! He and his knights apparently stayed at the Monastery overnight and his army raped the lands! But the King left u
s a memorial for his visit.’ She smiled indulgently as she held her hand out to the tree, stroking the bare branches. ‘Nearly every child in this vicinity for the last six hundred years has climbed and played in that tree.’

‘Did you climb it?’ Wilfred asked and gave her a small smile. She nodded. ‘That, I would like to have seen.’

Lucy did no more than unhook her leg, slide down from her saddle and tether Polly to the end of the lowest branch. She walked over to the bole of the tree and look up appraisingly as she dropped her gloves and crop onto the leaf mould.

‘You don’t have to prove it.’ Wilfred spluttered as he lurched out of his saddle. In his effort to tie his horse quickly he actually missed Lucy bend over and scoop the back hem of her habit between her legs and secure it in the waistband of her skirt. When he turned back he was astonished to see Lucy at least three
branches off the ground and climbing steadily. ‘You should stop!’ Wilfred called, but Lucy ignored him. This was Wilfred’s nightmare. He’d never had a head for heights, even as a child and climbing trees was the last thing he wanted to do. He fervently wished he hadn’t mentioned the impressive Oak. He shook his head, swallowed his pride and launched himself up the tree, taking care to be secure in his footing.

About half way up he stopped to look up and saw Lucy smiling down at him. ‘Have you come to rescue me?’ she asked, laughter colouring her voice.

‘I think you might have to rescue me at this rate!’ Wilfred murmured as he pulled himself up onto the very thick branch Lucy was sitting on. She looked at the sheen of sweat on his forehead and frowned.

‘Do you not like heights?’ she asked softly.

‘I can’t say I’m enamoured of them.’ Wilfred admitted evenly. ‘I would never have survived in the Navy!’

‘Then you should not have followed me up here.’ She smiled wanly. ‘I will help you down.’

‘Ahoy, there!’ was shouted up from the ground and Lucy looked over to see her brother Benjamin and Howard Cuthbertson staring up. ‘Can we join you?’ Howard had seen Wilfred start up the tree and he knew it would be almost impossible for him to get down again.

‘If you must.’ Lucy shouted down. She watched Howard Cuthbertson climb as she’d seen Benjamin do it nearly once every week their entire lives. Lucy shuffled
over to make space on the branch and held her hand out to Wilfred. He clutched it like a lifeline as he shuffled over and then he wouldn’t let it go.

Benjamin kept going further up the tree, but Howard stopped and perched next to Wilfred. ‘Are you alright? You look awfully pale.’ He said as he inspected Wilfred’s visage. He smiled beatifically at Lucy. ‘He doesn’t like heights, Miss Hastings and I’m utterly flabbergasted you managed to persuade him to climb this high.’

‘Actually he followed me. I didn’t realise he would have a problem.’ Lucy admitted sheepishly.

‘Yes, he doesn’t like to show his weaknesses.’ Howard said with a smirk. ‘Would you like me to help get him down, otherwise he will be here until he passes out and falls out of the tree!’

It took the three of them to help Wilfred down and by the time he was on the ground, he collapsed in a heap, wrenching the cravat from his neck, tearing open his jacket and ripping the front of his shirt apart. ‘I wish I could offer you some water.’ Lucy said as she looked down on his heaving chest. The open neck of his shirt showed a tantalising amount of naked flesh, making her mouth water as she thought about being able to run her hands over the prominent pectorals she could see and bury her nose in the pelt of dark hair that adorned his very tempting flesh.

Lucy!
She berated herself for her lascivious thoughts, although her eyes strayed further south and she rested her gaze on the distinct bulge in his britches.
It looks awfully small. Rather like my brothers do.
She concluded, but then she had no experience with male arousal as she had only ever seen her brothers in the nude when she was small and they were smaller. Swimming in the lake was prohibited after Lucy reached the age of twelve and her ample breasts decided to sprout on her chest. It wasn’t noticed at first, but suddenly, one day in that long, hot summer, Benjamin said “Are those breasts growing on your chest?” and Lucy had actually looked down at the overlarge bumps her nipples had become in mortification, as Richard, being a thoughtless teenager of only sixteen summers, laughed fit to burst. She had only swum alone after that, making sure that she stayed on the bank when her brothers were around. But she recalled seeing their unimpressive genitals on a regular basis and now she wondered just how a man became aroused. She wondered if it was like the stallions on the stud and that they could smell female arousal. But then she didn’t exactly know what constituted female arousal either.

‘Have you finished?’ Benjamin said quietly in h
er ear. ‘You shouldn’t ogle an Earl while he’s suffering from panic and mortification!’ He whispered. Lucy drew in a sharp breath and looked up, suddenly aware that she was being observed herself.

‘I
…I’m sorry. I’ve never seen an Earl in such disarray before.’ She gabbled as her cheeks turned incandescent in her embarrassment. She stepped smartly away and turned her back so she missed the lascivious grin exchanged between Wilfred de Lacey and Howard Cuthbertson.

‘Do you feel any better?’ Howard asked insincerely.