He stepped back, brushing the leaves and debris from his person. “As long you do not wish to ride Sultan, as I am about to go out myself. Will you accompany me? I can show you the estate, if you wish to see it?”
Emily took the olive branch. “I would love to, thank you, Cousin Sebastian. And I can assure you I might be impulsive but I'm not stupid. I have no intention of setting tongues wagging a second time.”
“I am glad to hear it.” He offered her his arm and she felt it would be uncivil to refuse. The moment her hand rested on the rough fabric of his riding jacket she knew it to have been a mistake. She felt his muscles bunch beneath her light hold and believed that his reaction demonstrated his antipathy to her touch. She could not have been more wrong.
The progress had been noted by an observant stable boy and Sultan, and a spirited grey mare, were saddled and waiting when they arrived in the yard. Emily looked around with approval. The well-swept cobbles, freshly painted boxes and the glossy, enquiring heads hanging over half doors, told her that this was a well-kept stable yard.
Then she saw the horses, standing ready and her smile, for the first time that morning, became genuine. Without pausing she stepped up to the huge chestnut stallion and rubbed his nose. He lowered his head to allow her to pull his ears.
“Good morning, you handsome fellow. How are you today?” The animal whickered and lipped her face with his whiskered mouth. “Silly thing; you're too big for kisses.” As she stepped away she became aware that she was, once more, the centre of a circle of interested spectators. Her eyes met Sebastian's, they were not censorious, but amused. “I'm sorry; but I could not resist greeting him.”
Grinning he leant down and with a pocket handkerchief wiped away the trail of slobber his horse had left on her forehead. “There is no need to apologise; Sultan is sorely in need of friends. He is cordially disliked by all the grooms and lads who attend to him. For some strange reason he has fallen under your spell, Cousin.”
“You are bamming me? Sultan is not wild, he's a gentle giant.”
“I think his stable lad would dispute that, my dear.” He smiled; his eyes alight with laughter, making him suddenly look approachable and less severe. “Do you like Polly, your mount? She is a fast ride but I am certain that you will have no difficulty handling her, even riding side-saddle.”
Emily turned her attention to the mare, who was more interested in flirting with the stallion. “I love her. If I can not have Sultan for my own, I shall happily settle for Polly.”
The head groom threw her up into the saddle and she hooked one leg round the raised pommel. The other groom fitted her neatly booted foot into the single stirrup.
Sebastian vaulted into his saddle unaided and gathered up his reins. “I thought we would take the route through Home Woods, there are hedges, logs and ditches to jump, and then come back across the park.”
“That sounds perfect. It's so long since I've been able to ride and I have missed it dreadfully.”
They clattered out of the yard in easy conversation. He had quite forgotten his vow to alienate his future wife by his obnoxious behaviour. She had quite forgotten that she disliked him. The dreaded appointment in the library was temporarily pushed aside by the exhilaration of the ride.
They arrived back two hours later, hot and mud-spattered, having spent the entire time without speaking a cross word. They parted, amicably, and when they returned to their apartments to change their garments neither of them gave a thought to what faced them in the library.
Sebastian dressed in a coat from Westons, cut square at the front as the newest fashion dictated. It took his man, Morrison, twenty minutes to ease him into this and his skin tight inexpressibles and highly polished Hessians. He tied his own neck cloth in an intricate arrangement he had devised for himself. Satisfied, he strode from his chamber, his jaw clenched and his expression grim.
He was faced with the prospect of spending the rest of his life in the company of someone he scarcely knew. It was a recipe for disaster. Then his expression relaxed a little as he recalled the pleasant two hours he had just spent in her company. He now considered that his plan to trick Emily into breaking the engagement was reprehensible and hardly appropriate to man of his elevated position and he decided he had no option but to abandon it.
“I have repaired your lilac gown, miss; it's all ready for you, and I took the liberty of calling up a bath.”
“Thank you, Jenny. I will not wear that dress, an older one will suffice.” For a moment she was puzzled by her maid's look of horror at the suggestion. Then she felt as though she had swallowed a stone. For in less than an hour she was supposed to be in the library ready to agree to marry her cousin.
It was so unfair! She had been given her life back by her grandfather and had thrown it all away by a moment of foolhardiness. She knew she had no choice. She couldn't understand why the prospect of marrying her cousin filled her with such dread. After all he was handsome, intelligent, wealthy and titled. Most debutantes would love to be in her position. Why was she so set against the match?
Chapter Seven
The harsh sound of a clock striking the hour made Emily jump. She was late. How could that have happened? She quickened her steps, lifted her skirt, and ran lightly downstairs. Where was the library? The vast hall was deserted, and none of the usual footmen in sight. There were five routes for her to select from but she had no idea which one to take.
Frantically she searched for a bell-cord in order to summon assistance but found none. Then she had an inspired notion; she would open the front door and knock loudly on it; that would surely bring Penfold out of hiding.
Pleased with her scheme she turned the heavy knob and stepped out into the morning sunshine. The trees were so lovely in their autumn colours that she became distracted and released her hold on the door. Its swung shut with an ominous clunk. She spun round too late, the door was firmly closed. She lifted the heavy brass knocker and banged it. She waited expectantly. There was no sound of footsteps hurrying to her summons. She banged again, with such force that she hurt her hand. Yesterday the wretched place had been overrun with staff, where were they all today?
She decided to abandon the front door and search for another entrance. Penfold, who had been closeted with Mrs Todd, the housekeeper, opened the door to see a flash of lilac vanish round the corner. It was not his place to question the strange ways of his betters, so quietly shut the door and went about his business.
Emily was breathless, and the hem of her dress limp and dusty by the time she finally found a side door that opened. She burst in, startling two parlour maids about their duties.
“Thank Heavens! I have found someone. Please could you direct me to the library?”
The younger girl recovered first. “Yes, miss, if you would care to follow me.”
Emily was late, very late. Her hair was escaping from its pins and the hem of her dress was mired but in her urgency she failed to notice.
Sebastian was glaring out across the park; he did not like to be kept waiting. The sound of her hurrying footsteps alerted him. He turned, and stood, legs slightly apart, arms rigidly beside him, and waited.
“Miss Gibson, my lord.” The maid, duty done, disappeared but not before she had noted the Viscount's expression and Emily's appearance. Both would be described in detail to the rest of the staff when they sat down for supper that night.
Emily curtsied and as her eyes dropped she saw the appalling state of her dress. Her spirits sunk even lower. This was not an auspicious start. She raised her head and shrivelled under the icy stare of her future husband. Where was the friendly man she had just been out riding with?