Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

Katherine brought Stargazer’s head round, and followed Tom back up to higher ground. His horse was tiring and obviously found the going harder than Stargazer. But then Stargazer was younger; a nimble, flighty mount who’d been known to take a fancy to surprising his rider and making a dash in the direction opposite the one he was intended to go.

So why shouldn’t Katherine adopt the element of surprise and turn the tables on the little horse who’d done just the same so many times when Katherine had been a young and inexperienced rider?

With a bolstering shout, she wheeled about, her heels digging into Stargazer’s flanks as she gave the little horse his head and urged him down the hill.

Faster and faster he went, gathering speed like a steam engine on a downward incline only more agile and with the ability to tuck his legs beneath him when Katherine launched him into a graceful arc across the muddy, choppy waters that he needed to negotiate in order to prevent a landing of the most disastrous proportions.

Chapter 30

Jack was hardly in the mood for charades, but it had been Odette’s idea and he was prepared to humour her, especially in view of his disloyal heart that must be conquered.

Besides, when she had her way she was very sweet and loving, and what new husband didn’t enjoy having his brow stroked and told how clever and handsome he was? Odette had never stinted on her affections, and now he must make a particular effort to ensure that he was as fondly attentive as he needed to be.

Sitting on a red-velvet sofa that had been dragged into the drawing room to supplement the clusters of seating, he was the loudest to applaud when Lady Fenton guessed Odette’s rendition of The Wild Swans, Hans Christian Anderson’s recent children’s book.

“What a fine and majestic creature you did look, Miss Worthington, with your swanlike neck and bold eye,” remarked Derry.

“Though I should beware, if I were Jack, of inadvertently doing something to stoke that wild inner spirit no one would expect you were harbouring,” said George, standing up to act out his turn.

“Ah, hidden depths are much to be admired,” responded Derry, his own glance admiring as Odette blushed and dropped her gaze as she returned to Jack’s side and took his hand, whispering, “Did you like it?”

“Naturally,” he responded. And then, because this sounded lacklustre in contrast with her other admirers, “You were marvellous, as always.”

He hoped this pleased her, and was glad when a hush fell upon the room as George clutched his heart and stared like a moonstruck calf at the ceiling, prompting his aunt to say excitedly, “George is in love! Who can it be, George? Oh, that’s not the point. But the first word is love, isn’t it?”

With this agreed, George then adopted a look of great ferocity and brandished what was clearly an imaginary sword. It took a few false suggestions before Jack came up with ‘conquers’, his offering immediately drowned out by Lady Quamby who leapt up crying, “Love conquers all! That’s it, isn’t, George? Love conquers all! Oh, but no truer words were ever spoken. What a tragedy for those who enter the state of matrimony without fiercely beating hearts and the desire to conquer the world for their one true love.”

She put her hand on Lord Quamby’s pudgy knee at this declaration and pressed her cheek against his, so that the veracity of her statement would have been clear to all those in the room who knew them, Jack thought. Yet there was a real fondness in the look the mismatched couple shared, and Jack’s immediate wish was that he, too, could manufacture the desire to conquer the world on Odette’s behalf, but then it was replaced by the sop that perhaps, in time, they would forge a comfortable happiness during what promised to be a long and blessed union together.

“And now it’s your turn, Jack,” George urged. However, just as Jack rose to make his reluctant way towards the front of the room, a great commotion sounded in the passage. Pounding footsteps stopped abruptly at the door, which was thrown open and Eliza Patmore’s parlourmaid entered, bobbing a quick curtsey as she cried, “Miss Katherine’s broke ‘er neck! Oh Lordy, it were ‘er groom wot said it!”

She’d barely finished before the butler, a far more dignified personage who was clearly not as swift as his loose-tongued inferior, emerged looking no less appalled. “Get back into the kitchen, Mabel,” he hissed to the weeping maid who defended her tears with, “But ‘tis terrible! Miss Katherine’s—”

“Get into the kitchen!” he repeated more loudly and sharply, pushing the girl out of the room before facing the horrified contingent.

“What’s this, Dunbridge?” Jack was the first to surge forward. The pounding of fear in his ears was so intense amidst the loud and excited babbling of everyone else, he could barely make out what the butler was saying. “Quiet!” At his commanding shout, the room instantly went silent. “Where is she? Who sent this news?” He raked one hand through his hair as he faced the butler.

“Her groom has come this moment to apprise us of the situation, sir. She’s down by the river.”

“Good God! Down by the river?” cried Lord Quamby in querulous tones, while Lady Quamby gasped and Jack responded with disbelief, “In this weather? What on earth is she doing even on the ride? Here? Riding?”

It made no sense. There must be some mistake. He shook his head. “Broken her neck? No, it can’t be.” As the words sank in his horror grew. Katherine…dead? A world without her was no world in which to exist. He squeezed his knuckles into his e

ye sockets then whipped around. “I must go to her! Mother, prepare a bedchamber for her!” He glanced at the white faces about him, adding, “And a brandy for Lady Quamby. Stay with her until we get back.” He stopped as he passed the aunt of the girl he loved, who was weeping piteously, and put his hand on her shoulder. “The maid spoke out of panic. I’m sure it’s not as dire as we all fear.”

“I should never have sent that letter!” wailed Lady Quamby, recumbent on the banquette Jack had recently vacated while her son and husband tried to soothe her.

“What letter?” Jack’s mother asked.

“Yes, what letter did you send, my dear?” This was from Lord Quamby.

“I sent a message to Katherine telling her that Jack had suffered a terrible accident and that she must come quickly. I never thought she’d take me so literally and ride here in this weather.”

“Why did you tell such a lie?” Eliza asked, but Jack had already left the room, and the reply couldn’t be heard as he ran towards the front door which was now being opened again by the butler. Katherine’s mud-spattered groom was shouting across the courtyard to one of the stable lads who was bringing round a horse which, by God, Jack had no intention of letting anyone else ride, even though he wasn’t dressed for it.

“I’ll take it!” he cried, about to dash down the steps when a soft hand touched his. He swung round.

“I hope she’ll be all right, Jack,” said Odette, her eyes luminous, as if she were blinking back tears. She surely couldn’t be so concerned about Katherine, he thought, nodding at her distractedly as he cast off his morning coat, far too constricting for riding and handed it to her.