“Halt!” Lady Raphaella shouted again, pulling back on the reins. The riders had evidently heard her, for they stopped dead, and stared at her as she brought the team to a grinding halt.
Hestony lurched forward, then leaned on the wickerwork surrounding the light frame. She felt her stomach heave. As Lady Raphaella stilled the team, she slipped off the platform and was noisily sick in the bushes.
After relieving her stomach of most of her breakfast, Hestony felt better. She walked briskly back the short distance to the coach, where she found Lady Raphaella talking earnestly to the two riders, one of whom had dismounted.
“You are sure you’re not harmed?” he was saying. Hestony blanched. She knew that voice!
“Lord Osburne?” she asked as she stared. Another friend of Lord Westmore’s, the gentleman was tall, dark-haired and strikingly good-looking. He was also impeccably mannered. Now, he took off his top-hat and bowed low to Hestony.
“My Lady! I am grieved at my part in almost harming you. Please accept a thousand apologies from me.”
“One apology will do,” Hestony said wearily. She dabbed at her lips with the handkerchief, hoping no signs of her earlier distress were left. Her mouth tasted sour and her body ached with weariness.
Lord Osburne smiled, though the smile did not reach his eyes. “Nonetheless, I owe you more than an apology. Is there aught I can do to make your passage hence easier?” He addressed both Hestony and Lady Raphaella.
“Perhaps, brother, we could arrange for the coach from Westmore to take them back to Amhurst?” a female voice said. Hestony looked behind Lord Osburne, to see the second rider standing there, the reins of her horse trailing loosely from one hand. It was Lady Raymonde, Lord Osburne’s sister. She bobbed her head solemnly to Lady Raphaella and Hestony in turn.
“My apologies for your almost-accident,” she murmured.
“No harm done,” Hestony said lightly. Her head swayed and she realized that her exhaustion from the morning was returning now in waves, and if she didn’t sit down soon, she might pass out.
“I think the idea of the coach is a very good one,” Raphaella murmured. “How long would it take, to summon one from Westmore?”
“It depends,” Lord Osburne said tersely. Hestony, leaning on the coach, frowned up at him. Why was he being so difficult? It was a good idea to get the coach to fetch them! And he did owe them some help, at the least. He had been just as responsible for their plight as they were, after all.
“If you believe it to be an unsound idea, at least help me to turn the coach, that I might take us myself,” Lady Raphaella said, and Hestony could hear the annoyance in her voice.
“Of course,” Lord Osburne said. He bowed low. “I am at your disposal, Lady Raphaella. And yours, too, Lady Hestony.” He looked up into her eyes, and he seemed very sincere. She swallowed hard. With those mesmerizing eyes, he was very handsome.
“Brother…ought we not to send to Westmore House?” Lady Raymonde said earnestly. “I could ride back easily, and…”
“Sister, I intend to escort Lady Raphaella and Lady Hestony myself. If you wish to inform the Earl of Westmore of the accident, I suggest you do so,” he interrupted smoothly. Lady Raymonde’s face fell.
“Lord Osburne…” Hestony intervened at once. “There is no need to send your sister back alone.”
“Well, I will be riding alongside you ladies. Or, if you wish, I will direct the coach?” he asked Lady Raphaella.
She swallowed hard and nodded. “It would be a great help to me, sir. I have had more than enough excitement for one day.”
“Well, then,” Lord Osburne said, and bowed to her. “If you will allow me, mayhap I can ride alongside Lady Hestony in the coach? You are welcome to take my horse. He’s tall, but he’s very amiable.”
“Thank you,” Lady Raphaella whispered.
Hestony was surprised by the resistance she felt to the idea of sharing a coach with Lord Osburne. She had no idea why – he was gallant and mannerly, and not to mention stunningly good-looking – but something in her curdled unpleasantly.
She stayed where she was, waiting while Lady Raphaella stepped up into the saddle of the big black horse. He was tall and strong, but, as Osburne had said, he was patient and stood and waited while Raphaella mounted up awkwardly.
“Ready?” he asked. He turned to Hestony. “My Lady, can I help you in?”
She said nothing but allowed Osburne to help her up into the waiting coach. The two horses stood with their heads down, chewing at their bits as calmly as if they were on a farm. They seemed entirely unperturbed by the whole incident.
“They are fine horses,” Lord Osburne said, swinging up into the coach beside Hestony. She nodded, shrinking back a little as he leaned in close to take the reins. “Exceedingly well-tempered, and rather fine, too, if I may say so.” He spoke of the horses, but he was looking at Hestony. She swallowed hard and looked at his hands.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “I think they are very fine as well.”
“I know a great deal about horses,” he continued. “My uncle had fine stables at his estate in Bicknell.”
“He does?” Hestony asked. She was interested despite her misgivings. Lord Osburne had a pleasant voice, and she felt it with the same intensity with which she felt his hand’s pressure, helping her into the coach.
“He does,” Lord Osburne confirmed. “My uncle, the Marquess of Rawlinson.”
“I see,” Hestony nodded. She knew Lord Osburne and his sister were remarkably well-connected – he himself was the heir to a dukedom, though the name escaped her. She felt the coach roll a little as they turned right, heading back up the hill whence she and Lady Raphaella had come earlier.
“Yes. I used to spend my summers there as a boy – before I came of an age to come to London to appreciate society there.”
“I see,” Hestony said again. He let the horses increase their pace a little and she felt a bit queasy, but as he directed them carefully up the center of the path, taking care not to go too fast over the ruts and pebbles, she started to relax.
He is very good at this.
She glanced behind her, to where Lady Raphaella was riding the black horse. She looked more relaxed on horseback than she had when driving the coach, and Hestony risked a wave at her as she looked in their direction.
“Hello, there!” Lady Raphaella called teasingly. She was about fifteen paces behind them – just out of earshot. Hestony fancied she was riding very slowly, and wondered if she was deliberately slowing the pace, to allow she and Lord Osburne to have more time alone together.