Catherine let out her breath slowly, sending some of her flickering nerves away. “I shall be confident, knowing that you are there watching and waiting for me,” she replied, feeling the urge to tip her head up towards his. “You are quite wonderful, Your Grace.”
He chuckled and, reaching up, began to pull out the pins from her hair, letting the rest of her tresses fall down her back. A shiver ran down Catherine’s spine as he did so, feeling the extraordinary sensations that came with his touch. Her breath shuddered out of her as he ran his fingers through her hair, seeing how his own breathing quickened.
“I will always be waiting for you, Catherine,” the duke murmured, his other hand now framing her face. “I will wait for your answer for as long as it will take for you to give it to me. I do not want to lose you f
rom my life, for you can never be lost from my heart.”
She closed her eyes, reached up, and pressed her mouth to his, giving into the urge that had been slowly building within her. For a moment, the duke did not react and then, in a heady burst of emotion, he wrapped his arms about her waist and crushed her against him. Catherine’s heart burst into a furious gallop as she clung to him, unable to do anything more.
“I take it then,” the duke whispered, his mouth only just away from hers as he broke their kiss, “that you have decided to accept me?”
“I have,” Catherine whispered, her eyes still closed as her heart roared with love for him. “My heart is yours, Blackwell. It is filled with a love for you that I know will remain there until the end of my days, growing a little brighter and stronger every day.” She felt his lips press against her cheek, both relieved and sorrowful when he let her go. The sensation of being in his arms had been utterly overwhelming.
“You cannot know how much joy this brings me, my love,” he murmured, now catching her hands in his as she opened her eyes. “My heart is overflowing with joy! I – I want to shout from the roof of the stalls that my bride shall be none other than the wonderful, strong, passionate, fiery creature that is Lady Wells!”
Catherine laughed aloud as he again wrapped her in his arms, whirling her about the stall and making Beauchamp snort in surprise. When he set her down, she leaned into him again, her head resting against his shoulder. His arms came about her as she settled there, feeling as though they were taking the first steps towards being as one, as husband and wife.
“I think Beauchamp is in agreement,” the duke said, as Beauchamp nickered loudly, making Catherine laugh. “And that should be all the confirmation you require, my love.”
She looked up at him again, her expression joyous. “You are all that I need,” she told him honestly. “I can look forward to my future now, knowing that you will not hold me back.”
“Never,” he promised her, before reaching down to kiss her again.
Chapter Fourteen
“Did I hear it said that you have a woman riding your horse?”
Matthew, standing in the grandstand, tried not to sigh. “Yes, it is quite true,” he told the gentleman behind him, wondering if they had ever been acquainted before. “And I have no shame in acknowledging it.”
“But a woman!” the man replied, laughing aloud. “They cannot ride as well as gentlemen! What on earth are you thinking in permitting such a thing?”
Matthew closed his eyes and let his hands tighten on the rail, his frustrations growing by the minute. “I think that is the point of allowing her to ride,” he grated, praying that the man would stop asking questions and making comments. “It is to prove to those watching that a woman can, in fact, ride just as well as a gentleman, if not better.”
The loud guffaw that came from the fellow told Matthew that he had failed entirely in his attempt to defend his choice of rider. The man shook his head and slapped Matthew on the shoulder, making him tense all the more.
“You will be the laughingstock of England!” the gentleman cried, laughing through his words. “And I shall be the very first one to see your reaction when that jockey of yours comes in dead last.”
Matthew could not contain himself any longer. Turning around, he jabbed one long, hard finger into the man’s chest, seeing how the smile immediately slid from his face, replaced with a look of fright. The top hat he wore – something required for all gentlemen when they attended the races – wobbled dramatically as Matthew began to speak, prodding the gentleman with each word he spoke.
“That is quite enough,” he said, seeing the man begin to splutter. “I am not even acquainted with you, and yet you think you can speak to me in such a way? Have you no realization of who I am?”
The gentleman took a step back, as Matthew dropped his hand, his brows knotting as he glared at the fellow.
“I am the Duke of Blackwell, willing to take a risk on a certain young lady because I believe her to be the best jockey in all of England,” he stated, his voice loud and filled with both pride and determination. “I will not be laughed at, nor chased out of London by gossip and mockery. No, instead, I shall stand here, proud and victorious, as my horse and my jockey make it known to all of England that a woman can ride just as well as any gentleman, should they be given the opportunity.”
The gentleman tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and began to dab at his forehead, beginning to bluster. His face was bright red, and all about him, gentlemen were listening with obvious interest as Matthew finished his speech.
“So might I suggest, therefore, that you cease your mockery and, for perhaps even a moment, begin to believe that a lady might be more than capable of something you have already decided she cannot do.” Matthew sent one final hard look towards the fellow and then turned back towards the Ascot Heath, his hands curling into tight fists as he did so. He had no doubt that, even if Lady Wells should win the race, that he would have a good deal of gossip and the like to contend with, but that was something he did not care about in the least bit. However, he would not tolerate mockery or the like, not when it was entirely unjustified. Lady Wells, he knew, was about to prove to them all that a lady could not only ride well but race, and for that, he was more than little proud.
“Not having any trouble, I hope?”
Matthew turned to see Lord Brighton making his way through the assembled gentlemen, elbowing the red-faced gentleman out of his way.
“I should not have any trouble now, no,” Matthew replied, with a small, rueful smile. “I will not have gentlemen mock me when they have no understanding of what she can do.”
Lord Brighton let out a long breath, leaning forward on the railings. “I have no understanding of it either, to be truthful, but I trust your judgement.” He smiled, his expression brightening. “And may I be among the first to wish you happy.”
“I thank you,” Matthew replied, his tension fading as he thought of the day that would soon come, the day when he could make Lady Wells his bride. “I thank you for your encouragement to continue pursuing the matter, Brighton. Without it, I might not now be standing here with such a joy in my heart.”