“Did you like London, and its diversions, when you entered into society?” she asked, wincing as they wobbled over a patch of stone. Lord Osburne instinctively slowed the pace, and her tension lessened.
“I did,” he commented. He smiled at her, and she thought that, when he truly smiled, he was quite handsome. Instantly she felt guilty – what was she thinking? He was nothing, beside Hal!
“What did you like most?” she asked, noting how tense her voice was.
“Well, I liked the theatre,” he admitted, steering them around a corner. “The King’s Theater – in those days, Siddons played almost every night! I long for the glorious days of the theater again.”
“You enjoy Shakespeare tragedies?” Hestony inquired, surprised. Siddons was the famous tragic actress. She herself had never watched a play featuring her – Hestony preferred more lighthearted pastimes than the theater, which she found somewhat gloomy.
“I do indeed. My favorite is Hamlet.”
“Hamlet? Really?” Hestony felt her brow lift with surprise. Of all the things she would have expected, she hadn’t thought Lord Osburne had a poetic, melancholy bent. When she first met him, she’d dismissed him as part of the hunting and fishing set who collected around Lord Westmore – dandies suffering from boredom, looking to visit with someone in the North to make use of his lands for hunting in.
“Indeed. I say – is that Amhurst Heights already?”
“I believe it is,” Hestony murmured. She felt relieved to be at the end of the journey, but she found Lord Osburne a confusing mix. She would be glad to be away from his smooth, careful company, but at the same time, she was surprised by how interesting she found him.
“Well, then. I shall deliver you into the caring arms of your family,” he said, and, slowing the horses to a stop at the top of the drive, he jumped out and politely reached a hand up to help her down.
“Thank you, sir,” she murmured, taking his hand and feeling the slight jolt as her feet hit the stones of the drive. She looked up at him and he bowed, pressing her gloved hand in his.
“I was honored to escort you, My Lady,” he murmured.
She looked up into his eyes. Large and brown, they held a sincerity that, again, surprised her. He turned away before she could say anything more, hailing Lady Raphaella as she rode up.
“Good riding!” he greeted. “I say! Many men find it daunting to ride Shadowfell.”
“He’s a good horse,” Lady Raphaella said, swinging her leg out of the stirrup and jumping down. “I can’t imagine why anybody would fear him.” She faced Lord Osburne a little challengingly, hands on hips.
“Well, you haven’t seen him in a bad mood,” Lord Osburne said. “He’s usually very steadfast. Doesn’t even react in a thunderstorm.”
“I can imagine.” Lady Raphaella nodded, the flush back in her cheeks. “He seems a very gentle horse.”
“He is,” Lord Osburne said, taking the reins from her. “Now, I hope you two ladies are none the worse for your adventure? I will make it my duty to do whatever I can to help.”
“We’re quite fine, thank you, Lord Osburne,” Lady Raphaella murmured. “We will just go inside to rest. It’s all that’s needed.”
“Of course.” He tipped his top-hat and stepped into the stirrup. Hestony noticed again how tall his horse was. She looked at Lady Raphaella with renewed admiration.
“Farewell, brave adventuresses,” he called, smiling warmly at them both. His eyes lingered on Hestony, who reddened.
“Thank you for your help, Lord Osburne,” she murmured.
“I am always glad to be of service, My Lady,” he called, riding off.
Hestony watched as he rode down the drive and was lost from view as he rounded the bend. She leaned back on the coach, and felt suddenly wearied.
Lady Raphaella, standing beside her on the white gravel path, let out a shuddering breath. “We probably ought to call the stable-hands. The poor horses need to be unharnessed and cared-for.”
“Yes,” Hestony murmured. “They need a rest.”
“Poor things,” Lady Raphaella murmured, stroking the nose of one of the horses, who snorted affectionately. “I do wish I hadn’t almost collided with Lord Osburne and his sister. I’m so sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” Hestony said gently. “It wasn’t your fault. And, besides – they were very helpful and understanding.”
“What a strange gentleman,” Raphaella murmured. She must have meant Lord Osburne, but she didn’t elaborate any further, and Hestony decided it was best to let the subject rest.
Wearily, she headed around the side of the manor to fetch help from the stables. Her friend was right; the horses needed seeing to – and she herself desperately needed some sleep. Once she’d alerted one of the grooms, she went upstairs to her bedchamber and lay down on the bed, her cheek on the soft coverlet. Oddly, her tired mind refused to find rest.
“What is it about that him that disturbs me so?” she asked herself.
She had no idea, but all she knew was that every time she thought of Lord Osburne and that quiet, sinister voice saying polite utterances, she felt more than a little uneasy.
Her mother, she knew, would tell her she was being ridiculous. Lord Osburne, she would say, was a perfect gentleman – polite, thoughtful, calm. He was presentable, too. And handsome. And the son of a duke. As far as Hestony was concerned, however, there was something singularly frightening about him.
“Stop it, Hestony,” she told herself firmly. “He’s just a polite, reserved English Lord. And you need some sleep.”
She ought not to set such store by fitful, weary imaginings.
Chapter Six
A Surprising Discussion
Hestony woke early and walked down to the breakfast-room. She couldn’t stop thinking about the discussion with Lady Raymonde and Lord Osburne the previous day. Much as she tried to dismiss it, that groomed, polite voice still haunted her.
“I don’t know what I think of that gentleman.”
She would have found the whole situation less confusing, had Lady Hartfield also not been particularly strained after she returned. She had apologized for going out with Lady Raphaella without mentioning it, but how could she have, when her mama was visiting a friend? She thought her abruptness was uncalled-for, even from Lady Hartfield.
“Would you care for tea, My Lady?” Her maid, Judy, asked, entering the cool blue breakfast room. Of all the staff, Judy came with Hestony from her home. Her familiar face was a relief to see, in a household manned by strangers.