In the shadows before the stable, Jack paused to take stock. Only two grooms sat in the puddle of light thrown by a lamp just inside the open door. The visiting coachmen, his own thankfully included, would be in the kitchen, enjoying themselves. All he had to do was pray that the groom who’d relieved Kit of Delia wasn’t one of the two left to mind the stables.
“You two! My horse, quickly.” Jack strode forward, habitual command coloring his words.
“Your horse, sir?” The men rose to their feet uncertainly.
“Yes, my horse, dammit! The black Arab.”
“Yes sir. Right away, sir.”
The alacrity with which the two scrambled up and made their way down the boxes told Jack his prayers had been answered. Delia, however, did not approve of the fumbling attempts of the grooms to saddle her. Jack pushed past them. “Here. Let me.”
He’d handled Delia often enough for her to accept his ministrations. As soon as she was saddled, Jack led her to the yard. With a last prayer that Delia would not balk at carrying his weight and the grooms would not notice the stirrups were too short for him, Jack swung into the saddle.
The gods were smiling. Delia sidled and snorted but responded to the rein. With a dismissive nod to the grooms, Jack cantered her out of the yard. As soon as he was out of sight of the stables, he turned the mare toward the shrubbery.
The first intimation Kit had that she was not alone was a soft giggle, followed by a low, feminine moan. She froze. An instant later, silk skirts rustled as a woman sank onto the stone bench.
“Darling! You really are too impetuous.” The unknown female was a shady figure, the moonlight fitfully glinting on blond curls and bare shoulders.
“Impetuous?” A man sat beside the woman. His tone suggested pique, rather than pride. “How would you describe your own behavior, making sheep’s eyes at that devil Hendon?”
Kit’s brows rose. Devil?
“Really, Harold! How common. I was doing no such thing. You’re just jealous.”
“Jealous?” Harold’s voice rose.
“Yes, jealous,” came the reply. “Just because Lord Hendon’s got the most wonderful shoulders.”
“I don’t think it was the man’s shoulders that impressed you, my dear.”
“Don’t be crude, Harold.” A pause ensued, broken by the woman. “Mind you, I daresay Lord Hendon’s equally impressive in other departments.”
A growl of frustration came from Harold, and the two silhouettes above Kit fused.
Kit lay in her nook and tried to ignore the snuffles and slurps and funny little moans that came from the couple on the bench. It was enough to put anyone off the business for life. She turned to a contemplation of the new vision of Lord Hendon that was forming in her mind. Perhaps she’d been hasty in thinking him a fusty old crock. Certainly, a devil with impressive shoulders and equally impressive other parts did not fit the image she’d constructed. And the woman on the bench sounded as if she had the experience to know of what she spoke.
Perhaps she should give Lord Hendon a closer look. That had, after all, been her aim in coming to the ball, even if she hadn’t had much hope of him then. Now—who knew? But Jack would soon be back, determined to take her away.
Recalling that she’d yet to satisfy herself as to where Jack was taking her, Kit tested the bonds at her wrists. They gave not at all. She could moan and attract the attention of the couple on the bench, assuming she could make them understand it was not them doing the moaning, but the idea of the explanations she’d face defeated that thought.
Really, if there was any justice in the world, Lord Hendon would stumble upon her and rescue her from Jack and his altogether frightening propensities. Resigned, Kit stared at the small section of sky she could see and wished the couple on the bench would go away.
“Who’s that coming?” The woman’s voice held a note of panic.
“Where?” The same panic echoed in Harold’s tone.
“From the side. See—there.”
A long pause ensued. All three figures in the alcove held their breath. Then, “Dammit! It’s Hendon.” Harold rose and drew the woman to her feet.
“Perhaps we ought to wait for him—he might be lost.”
Harold snorted in disgust. “All you females are the same. You’d crawl all over him if he gave you half a chance. But we can’t let him catch us together, and how would you explain being here alone? Come on!”
The two figures departed, and Kit was alone.
Lord Hendon was close, but she couldn’t even get to her feet. The chances of anyone walking up and looking over the back of the bench to find her were negligible. Kit closed her eyes in exasperation and swore beneath her gag.