“Many years.” Dorothy thought nothing of it as she peered through the trees, once more trying to get a glimpse of a stag or maybe a fox. The groundskeeper had spoken before their ride about how the foxes were killing many of the hares and chickens on the estate, so he would be glad for a few of them to go. “Have you not known a woman to hunt before, My Lord?”
“No, I have not.” Lord Chilmond stared ahead, his tone something quite unreadable to her.
“When my father first took my brother hunting, I asked if I could join them. I think he was startled at first, but then he laughed and took me along with him. My mother didn’t shoot, but she always went riding on his shootings. It seemed natural.” Dorothy soon regretted saying anything at all, for Lord Chilmond was now staring at her, his eyes slightly narrowed. “Do I shock you?”
All the hope she’d had that Lord Chilmond may have been that “partner in crime” she was looking for now faded. If this was a shock to him, then the fact that she sometimes wore breeches would go down very ill, indeed—like eating a whole lemon.
“A little. Though perhaps that is a good thing.” His smile seemed rather forced.
Dorothy fidgeted in her saddle once more, suddenly aware of the dirt at the bottom of the hem of her gown and the buttons that had come loose around the cuffs of her gloves. She felt inadequate, inept at joining the ton.
It is one of the reasons I did not want to come when Allan asked me. To be myself, I will always be looked at like that.
“Lord Chilmond?” Lord Webster called from up front, and Dorothy winced at the loud noise he made. By now, every stag and fox would have run off and found somewhere to hide. “Come, I’d be glad of your opinion on something.”
Lord Chilmond bowed his head respectfully to Dorothy and then urged his horse forward to catch up with the others.
Dorothy brought her horse to a complete stop, deciding not to follow at all. She glanced over her shoulder, back in the direction of the house, and wondered if she should not have come, after all. Perhaps she should have ignored her instincts and stayed at the house, promising to do needlework with the ladies.
Oh, that would have been a dull morning, indeed!
“Something wrong?” Stephen’s voice roused her from her reverie. She looked around to find he had appeared at her side.
He looked very comfortable in the saddle, his hands loosely gripping the reins and his horse snorting softly. Stephen always had a habit of looking at ease in such situations, where other men would look uncomfortable.
He is good at everything. Well-practiced at everything, too.
She didn’t know whether to resent him for it or admire him. When she didn’t answer quickly, his eyes met hers.
“Don’t go back,” he said, his voice deep.
“How did you…” she trailed off. It was as if he had read her thoughts.
He pointedly glanced down at her fidgeting, and she stopped as hurriedly as she could.
“Go back, and you’ll be miserable. We both know it.”
“I would have thought you’d be the first person to send me back. Do I not embarrass you?” she asked in a challenge.
Stephen sighed deeply, and for a minute, she thought he wouldn’t answer her. But then, eventually, he shook his head.
“No?” she spluttered and leaned forward in her saddle.
At that moment, two of the hunting dogs that had accompanied the party ran back to join her and Stephen.
“No, you do not,” Stephen said coolly, though he was no longer looking at her, but searching through the trees.
“I thought I always embarrassed you.”
“I don’t think I have ever said those words.”
“You didn’t need to. I could read it on your face. You did say the other day that we embarrassed each other.”
“Then perhaps you can’t read my true feelings nearly so well as you believe.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, her tone sharp.
“Shh. Look.” He nodded toward the trees.
