Lady Bess

“Don’t spoil him, Bess!” Donna said and laughed out loud to add, “Oh, Bess, look at his face!”

“Do you hear these nonsensical children?” Bess’s father called out to Dunkirk.

As it happened, the earl had found himself riveted by only one person in this group. She was breathtaking in every sense of the word. The vision of her smiling and at ease. The style of long black hair, loose and looking as though she had weaved tiny diamonds amongst the strands. Those speaking green eyes. All of her very nearly left him speechless. What the devil was wrong with him? She was too young, untried, and dangerous to a rogue such as himself. It would never do. Lady Sonhurst was what his sort needed in bed, not this young maid. Suddenly realizing he had been staring at Bess a trifle too long, the earl turned to the viscount and said on a smile, “Welcome, and I don’t blame them. In fact, I’m with Robby and the Lady Bess—hungry.”

“Thank you,” the viscount returned. “You are a diplomatic and very considerate host.” He swept a hand towards the grounds. “Your parkland is magnificent. Each time I ride this driveway, I find myself seeing something I missed before.”

“Yes, and I noticed the stables as we came up. They look wonderful,” Bess said.

“Stables? We aren’t on that again? We can do the stables after I am fed. I haven’t eaten since noon!” Robby complained.

“Stop it—you won’t wither,” rebuked his wife.

“John, have pity on a friend. This mad crew won’t let me eat …”

“Don’t fret it, Rob. There is a buffet awaiting you in the dining room, where we shall repair to immediately.”

Robby beamed and declared, “Good man—a true friend.”

Dunkirk had moved to Lady Bess as he spoke, noting that her father had not yet dismounted. He reached for and found her trim waist and was shocked by the shiver that traveled through him when he took that waist into his hands.

He slowly deposited her on firm ground and, blocked by her horse from the others, allowed himself to draw her closer than was necessary. His voice was low and huskier than he had intended as he said, “Lady Bess, enchanting as always.”

She made no sign that she heard this, but he saw the twinkle in her bright eyes and was conscious of the fact that she was more up to snuff than he realized. She had only one season to her name, but she was certainly no fool.

Continuing to ignore the compliment, she changed the subject and said, “We made excellent time, my lord. Our driver left with the coach an hour before us, but we managed to catch him up and escort him here. All in all, no more than a bit more than an hour’s trip, I think.”

“Ye mean ye rode the open road at neck or nothing speed,” he said and chuckled. “I expect that of ye, but not of yer father.”

She peeped, “Ha, where do you think I get my wildness from? Papa likes a good run now and then. He doesn’t see the harm and says it is good for the soul.” She turned and smiled at her father, who had stepped up to them at this juncture.

“Ah, the emphasis being on more then than now.” Lord Saunders grinned.

“Aye, but I took a solid knock on the head for the effort,” put in Robby, who had just lowered his wife to the ground and turned to grin ruefully.

“Did you suffer a fall?” Dunkirk asked, surprised.

“No, we took a shortcut through the woods, and my good wife held a branch for me, but then her blasted stupid animal took off with her, and the branch whipped back at me, nearly sent me reeling, I can tell you.”

Bess giggled at this, and Donna snorted with laughter before she linked her arm through her husband’s. “Well then, John of Dunkirk, what is the plan?”

As they walked towards the stables, two livery boys came rushing out to take their horses. Dunkirk told them to remove the tack from the steeds and put them to graze in the pasture before stalling them for the night.

“Well, to m’way of thinking, we need to feed that husband of yers. I wouldn’t want him to faint away from starvation.”

“Hmm, for my part, I would dearly love a cup of tea,” agreed Donna.

“Certes then, woman! Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Robby glowered at her and then laughed heartily as he fell in step beside the earl and Bess’s father. As they walked up the drive to the house, he said, “John, they tell me that Randall means to put up his gray against Trimble’s big red.”

“Oh, cock fighting!” stuck in Bess. “I do so hate it—how can you watch the poor animals go after one another?”

“Well, some allow their cocks to fight to the death,” Robby answered. “I don’t hold with that. But a little fight that scarcely draws blood … just good fun.”

“Horrid, completely horrid.” Bess shook her head.

“I agree,” the earl said quietly. “I don’t much care for it m’self.”

Bess looked into his blue eyes and felt a rush of warmth.