“I will not,” Olivia announced, seizing her opportunity as her heart pounded frantically. She was not a performer, and the very thought of acting uncouth in front of so many gentlemen—ten in total—had made her feel queasy all morning. But it had to be done. “I shall ride and hunt with the rest of you.”
With a dramatic flourish, she unpinned the brooch at her throat and let her cloak fall, revealing the riding trousers, gentlemen’s shirt, and riding jacket that her friends had pilfered for her in the night. Phoebe, gifted with a needle and thread, had stayed awake until dawn, altering the garments to fit Olivia.
“I shall be cast out from society for this!”Olivia had cried, seeing herself in the mirror that morning, dressed like a gentleman.“Goodness, I cannot do it. There must be another way.”
But her friends were persuasive, reminding her that she would not succeed in keeping her freedom if she did not do everything within her power to horrify Evan and his family. Even Anna had remarked that she looked strangely pretty in the riding clothes, but seeing the stunned faces of the gentlemen around her, Olivia wished she could turn back the clock and make an excuse to return to the manor.
“Are those… trousers?” one of the men gasped.
Olivia tilted up her chin, holding her nerve. “Do not stare, gentlemen. They are worn for practical purposes, not for your observations. If you find it vulgar, I shall hunt apart from you, but I will be hunting.” She beckoned to the groom holding the reins of the horse she would be riding. He did not move, too astonished to realize she was trying to summon him. “You! My horse, if you please.”
Shaking the shock from his face, the groom hurried forward, putting the reins into Olivia’s hands. Without hesitation, she vaulted onto the gelding’s back, sitting astride the beast.
A second ripple of disbelief rumbled through the assembled gentlemen.
“Disgraceful,” someone muttered.
“Isshe French?” said someone else.
“I would never allow it,” grumbled another.
Olivia sat up straight in the saddle. “The sun is creeping higher in the sky, gentlemen. I suggest we begin our exploits, or the boars will be hidden in the shade, sleeping away their luncheon of berries.” She put her fingers to her lips and whistled so loudly that two gentlemen covered their ears. It was a trick Matilda had taught her, and as the tail end of the whistle faded into nothingness, the bark of dogs filled the air.
From the kennels behind the hunting lodge, the hounds surged forward, pursued by their harried-looking kennel master.
“I should say that is our signal to begin,” Olivia declared, grateful beyond belief that her father had decided to forgo the hunt. He would have taken his rifle and shot her to spare his pride; she was sure.
She sought Evan’s face amongst the group, fully expecting to see an expression as mortified and disgusted as the friends around him. Instead, he had his handsome face tilted to one side, his eyes alight with intrigue, and his lips curved into a wry smile. And as their gaze locked, he made a slow motion of silent applause.
What? No! You are supposed to be appalled!Her nerves jangled, his lack of response more unnerving than the glares and whispers of the other gentlemen.
“Very well,” she shouted, reaching down to take the rifle from the bewildered groom. “You can all wait here for me to return with the prize.”
With a squeeze of her thighs, she urged her horse into the woodland that stretched away from the hunting lodge, dense and dark and foreboding. If the gentlemen followed, that was up to them. In a way, she hoped they would delay a while longer, for she needed to gather her thoughts and catch her breath before anyone caught up to her.
“I might actually have to snare a boar,” she whispered in disgust. If there was one thing she hated more than the institution of marriage, it was hunting.
* * *
“Where did you find this one, Thorne?” one of the gentlemen asked as the group trampled through the forest on horseback. They had, regretfully, caught up to Olivia, having recovered from the unexpected display by the hunting lodge. Now, instead of appalled, they seemed curious… and a little flirtatious.
Evan laughed and opened his mouth to answer, but Olivia cut in before he could say a word.
“Straight from the realm of his wildest dreams,” she replied. “Certainly not France. I could not abide all that garlic and such rich cheeses would send me hurtling to the privy.”
The gentleman who had asked the question blinked, his mouth hanging open.
Olivia erupted into laughter, startling one of the fellows ahead of her. “I assume none of you are married if such jests can make all of the blood rush out of your faces so quickly. There are no secrets when you reside with one another.” She paused. “Perhaps, that is why so many of you seek adventure elsewhere. What fun is it if there is no mystery left?”
A few men chuckled, oblivious to the cold prickle of sweat that beaded across Olivia’s forehead and down the back of her neck. Being an outlandish, unladylike churl was an ill-fitting character, too many sizes too big, and the humiliation of it squirmed in her chest.
Just then, as if by the grace of God, a blur of wiry hide and the glint of a tusk streaked across the narrow, overgrown path that meandered through the woods. A shriek of indignation echoed between the trees as the boar plowed through the undergrowth, startled by the presence of so many men on horses.
“There it is!” someone cried as the horses charged forward, everyone abandoning the strange young woman in favor of something familiar. Everyone but Evan.
“I thought you were determined to catch the boar?” he said, drawing level with her.
Olivia smiled. “All they will do is send it deeper into the woods. It is better to bide your time and approach cautiously, but they see a glimpse of something they wish to overpower, and off they go without a second thought. None of them will return with a boar, mark my words.”
