Lord Braybrook's Penniless Bride. Elizabeth Rolls

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СКАЧАТЬ riding habit was slightly too large, but the wretched thing was almost flattering. She had an observable figure. Most of her gowns deliberately disguised that. Wearing gowns in any way related to one’s shape was, in the crudely expressed opinion of her former employer, ‘asking for it’. Too-large gowns—which were easier to button up unassisted— the caps, and the spectacles all helped. Not that the spectacles were mere disguise—she would trip over her own feet without them.

      No one looked beyond a dull, shapeless gown, the cap and spectacles. They saw only the dowdy paid companion or governess. It was safer that way.

      Only she had the uncomfortable sensation that, like his lordship, Lady Braybrook saw Christy, not Miss Daventry. She had been right about the habit suiting Christy. The deep blue gave a little colour to her cheeks, although that might be the country air. She fingered the braid up the front of the habit. It was beautiful, so elegant. She had never worn such clothes in her life. Perhaps it didn’t matter. She was still the companion- governess. Borrowed plumage did not make fine birds, she told herself as she went downstairs.

      ‘There you are!’

      Lissy and Matthew were waiting in the hall, which Christy had learnt was the Great Hall. Apparently Amberley was very old indeed and the Trenthams had been here for ever.

      ‘You do look nice,’ said Lissy, and Christy bit her lip not to smile at the new hint of patronage. ‘The horses have been brought around. We have Mama’s old hack for you. He’s terribly quiet.’

      ‘Not a slug, though,’ put in Matthew. ‘You could have ridden another horse, but Julian said it was better to be safe than sorry. He said he didn’t want to bury you.’ Not a hint of patronage there.

      ‘An unwelcome expense, no doubt,’ said Christy.

      Matthew grinned. ‘He didn’t put it quite like that.’ The grin turned impish. ‘It was more the inconvenience.’

      Christy peered over the top of her spectacles at him, in a manner she had found to be very effective with youngsters. They never seemed to realise it was a bluff; that without looking through the lenses she could see very little.

      Even so, she could see Matthew’s grin; and those blue eyes, very like his brother’s, continued to twinkle.

      ‘Julian’s outside, with the horses and Emma and Davy,’ said Lissy, cheerfully. Not at all as though this were the brother she had described as a tyrant the previous evening.

      No doubt he meant to see them off, thought Christy, wishing she had not agreed to this ride. No doubt she would make a complete fool of herself. Wasn’t one meant to learn to ride as a child? Probably little Davy was more accomplished than she would ever be.

      Sure enough, when Lissy and Matthew took her out on to the front steps, Davy was already mounted on a chestnut pony with a pretty head and lively eye. Emma was mounted on a bay. His lordship stood close by, holding the reins of a tall black horse, and a lead rein attached to the bridle of a sleepy-looking dappled grey. Not a horse, really. More a large pony.

      Grooms held two other horses. Mentally counting, and looking at the quality of the black horse, Christy came to a dead halt at the top of the steps as an appalling realisation struck her. She had assumed a groom would accompany the riding party and attend to her instruction. Apparently not. His lordship was dressed for riding. Which meant…she gulped…he was planning to teach her to ride.

      Schooling herself to reveal nothing, she met his lordship’s limpid gaze. And saw the glimmer of unholy amusement.

       Drat him!

      He knew, to a nicety, just how embarrassing she would find this and he was enjoying it!

      His greeting confirmed it. ‘Miss Daventry—I’m sure you understand that I prefer to ensure your safety myself.’

      She smiled. Sweetly. ‘I am very grateful for your lordship’s condescension.’

      His brows snapped together, and his mouth hardened. Then his gaze flickered to Lissy, listening avidly, and he said, ‘Not at all, ma’am. Come and meet Merlin.’

      Meet Merlin. As though the creature were of some account to him, like his dog. Christy watched, fascinated, as Lord Braybrook petted the old horse…something told her Merlin was no longer in the first flush of youth. His lordship’s hands were gentle, rubbing the ears, stroking the arched neck. Then something was produced from a pocket and whiffled up out of his hand with an appreciative crunch and snort.

      ‘Come.’ His lordship spoke abruptly. ‘Hold out your hand. Quite flat and still.’ She obeyed and he placed a sugar lump on her palm. Horrified, she stared at it. Old though he might be, judging by the noise he’d made munching the last lump, Merlin had teeth. Large ones. In perfect working order. But before she could protest, or drop the sugar, soft whiskery lips took the treat with amazing delicacy. The teeth, again, dealt with the offering in a fashion anything but delicate.

      A delighted thrill went through Christy. Without thinking she stroked the long nose and found it velvety. Liquid dark eyes blinked at her wisely, and then…that same velvet nose was shoved against her chest and rubbed up and down with great enthusiasm.

      Caught unawares, Christy staggered back hard against an immovable wall. A wall with arms that steadied her effortlessly. A shocking warmth stole through her and for one heart- stopping instant she relished the male strength surrounding her. A delight promptly banished by hot embarrassment, but before she could react, strong hands grasped her shoulders and eased her away.

      ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Daventry,’ said his lordship in obvious amusement. ‘Merlin is a gentleman, but he is very fond of sugar. Are you all right?’

      ‘Perfectly,’ she said, ignoring her racing pulse.

      Davy, from his perch on the little chestnut, said in pleased tones, ‘Look, Julian! Merlin has slobbered all over her chest.’

      Christy looked down. Sure enough the braided front was a mess. She gulped and met laughing blue eyes that were pointedly not looking at her…chest.

      ‘Don’t worry, Miss Daventry. I’m sure it will come off.’

      ‘But, Lady Braybrook won’t like—’

      ‘Nonsense,’ said Lord Braybrook. ‘She always grumbled about that trick of Merlin’s. He has slobbered on it before. Besides, she gave you the habit. It’s yours now.’

      Christy flushed. Besides the habit, Lady Braybrook had given her a number of gowns, saying she never wore them and that they were unsuitable for Lissy. They were even more unsuitable for the governess. Of course, a lady’s maid was given her mistress’s cast-offs, so perhaps it wasn’t too improper.

      ‘Can we go? Please?’ begged Davy.

      Matthew had mounted, and one of the grooms was about to put Lissy up. Christy gulped as the groom linked his hands for Lissy’s booted foot and threw the girl into her saddle. Dear God. If he did that to her, she would go straight over the saddle and land on the ground.

      ‘Miss Daventry?’

      Lord Braybrook’s voice sounded oddly distant.

      ‘Is there…is there not a mounting block? I don’t think the way Miss Trentham СКАЧАТЬ