Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

In fact, Miss Montrose didn’t seem to be a young woman who desired to have her heart engaged.

Mr Patmore hadn’t set out to have his heart engaged either, though he’d dutifully attended a great number of Assembly Balls at the urging of his sisters, and while there’d been a great many pretty girls in attendance, none h

ad taken his fancy.

But Miss Montrose, now…

He tried to puzzle out his feelings as he descended the winding staircase to the grassy tussocks that spread out before him at ground level.

Pretending surprise when he met the pair walking, he could discern nothing in their manner to suggest he was intruding. In fact, they seemed to have been walking in silence for some time.

Bramley asked how he liked his new purchase.

“A fine animal,” Rufus responded. “I look forward to taking Carnaby for a gallop this afternoon. He’s just what I’m looking for in terms of speed. My faithful Barnabus back home is slowing down a bit.”

“Carnaby is lovely, but I do miss my little grey mare.” Miss Montrose glanced up at Bramley. “I’m so glad you like horses. I’m looking forward to getting to know each one in your stable.”

“Can’t stand the creatures, to tell the truth.” Bramley gave a mirthless laugh. “That’s unless they come up trumps with good odds. You’re welcome to exercise any of them that take your fancy.”

Rufus saw his opportunity. “Perhaps you’d both care to join me on my ride this afternoon,” he suggested, and was delighted when Bramley said he had matters to attend to, and somewhat dispirited by Miss Montrose’s obvious indifference towards the companion with whom she was now saddled.

“If you wish for company, then, of course I’m happy to join you, Mr Patmore,” she said, “however, I do like to give my horse its head. I like the solitude of a long, lonely ride.”

“I promise not to bother you with too much small talk in that case.” Rufus suspected Bramley would be happy to have him out of the way and occupied with Miss Montrose as he attended to these unnamed ‘matters,’ which no doubt involved a bet or wager involving horses and the turning of a coin.

He tipped his hat to the pretty young woman. “I shall meet you at the stables at three o’ clock if that suits.”

She hesitated, still not evincing much more than reluctance at the idea. “What time do the children get presented to their parents, Mr Bramley?”

Bramley shrugged. “No idea, though you should get your gallop in beforehand. Don’t know why you’re so interested in the dirty creatures, but you could always visit the schoolroom, I daresay.”

Rufus noticed that her pleasure at such a suggestion outstripped any she’d evinced at going riding with him. Still, he intended to ensure she gained maximum enjoyment from her hour galloping hell for leather over dales and downs, if that’s how she really liked to spend an afternoon. Indeed, Rufus was determined that he’d do such a fine job diverting her with his conversation, she’d not spare a thought about smiling at snotty-nosed brats.

Eliza couldn’t believe her hostess’s generosity. When Lady Fenton learned she was going riding with Mr Patmore, she insisted she borrow a lovely, dove-grey riding habit. Not only was it in the first stare, but it fitted like a glove. It was rare Eliza regarded her reflection with such pleasure.

In this happy mood, she descended the stairway of Quamby House after she’d looked in on her chaperone who was still in the throes of her terrible head cold. When she passed Mr Bramley in the hallway, he raised his eyebrows as he took in her ensemble and looked as if he were about to whistle his appreciation, but then he merely nodded and continued walking towards the library, saying over his shoulder, “You cut a fine figure, Miss Montrose. I’m sorry I can’t accompany you, but I’m sure Mr Patmore will be agreeable company. I’ve instructed my groom to ensure your safety for the afternoon.”

“That was good of you, Mr Bramley.” She was grateful for the chaperonage. The look in Mr Patmore’s eyes had been a little too appreciative for her liking.

The moment she was astride Brownie, a sweet, relatively docile animal the groom considered suitable, Eliza forgot all other considerations.

“Race you to the hedgerows!” she cried to Mr Patmore, urging Brownie forward and laughing as they picked up pace more rapidly than she’d expected, and the wind whipped her face. She couldn’t remember feeling so carefree. Of course, that was because Gideon—no, she would call him Jack from hereon—was playing in the nursery, and she’d been promised he’d still be there when she returned.

Furthermore, she was free of her aunt. Really free! For three days, she’d been away from the constant sniping of her crotchety relative and her aunt’s elderly neighbour who’d been sent along to chaperone her. Eliza couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed such latitude.

Now, in the warmth of this lovely September afternoon, she could ride in silence and dwell on those past events that had led to this. Falling in love at seventeen had caused her great pain and had led to Jack’s existence, but she’d experienced true passion, and she’d not take that back. It might be the only love she’d ever know.

Soon, Jack would be part of her life again. She would not dwell on past mistakes, nor would she make another. She was about to embark upon a carefully calculated path—marriage. She knew what was involved, physically, and accepted her body would never again thrill to the touch of a caring lover. As a wife, she would submit and do her duty, just as women had been doing since time immemorial. Marriage for love was a new notion for her generation, and rare for those of her grandparents’ time. She must remember that if she needed to feel any better.

“Whoa there, Miss Montrose!”

Eliza brought her mount around and sent Mr Patmore a questioning look.

He indicated the hedge at the bottom of the hill and the stream beyond. “You don’t know the area. I was afraid you might try something foolhardy.’

“And try to jump across them both?” She felt the blood tingling in her veins, pulsing at her fingertips. She felt alive. “And what of it? I’m game if you are!” She pulled her horse’s head around and pointed its nose in the direction from which Mr Patmore had feared danger before galloping hell for leather towards it. Mud splattered her face and the wind whipped her cheeks while the ground tore past at a tremendous pace. When was the last time she’d felt so exhilarated? Yes, the hedge was high, but the mount she’d thought docile was up for the challenge. Giving it the command, she clung to the pommel, head down, and felt herself soaring. The last occasion she’d ridden like this was when she was a bold and reckless schoolgirl.

Light gleamed through the trees ahead, beckoning her forward. She felt gifted in all senses. Gifted with new courage, and with a new life also. Gifted with the return of her son.