Amelia's Intrigue (Regency Idyll Book 1) Page 8

  “Good morning, Lord Rutlidge. How wonderful to see you again,” she smiled, as Gowan helped her to mount the bay.

  “P-Please do not c-call me that.”

  “What, my lord?”

  “L-Lord R-Rutlidge.”

  “But it is your name.”

  “N-No it ain't. My n-name is Geordan. And, and I do n-not like being c-called lord, unless it is someone t-teasing me.”

  “Oh,” said Miss Mapleton, bringing her mount up be-side his own. “But I should not call you by your given name, you know. It would be most improper of me.”

  “Would you m-mind so t-terribly to be improper, Miss Mapleton? I will n-not t-tell on you.”

  Miss Mapleton laughed and shook her head. “Sometimes I am most improper, my 1—Geordan. But you must be too, then, and call me Amelia. Do you know the way to Aston-Croft Grove?”

  “No, b-but Martin d-does.” Miss Mapleton noticed that Gowan had mounted to accompany them as well. With a little nod of her head, she led the way out of the stable yard and into Brook Street. Aston-Croft Grove was a bit of wilderness on the west side of London which had been the site of several duels, a number of carriage races, and a picnic or two. It had a grove of beeches, a wide stretch of high grass and wild-flowers, and a stream. It was not nearly as untamed as Westerley, but fallen trees, singularly large rocks, and the little grove of beeches provided enough pitfalls for a horse and rider to make even the most experienced horse-man cautious. Amelia reined in and looked toward the earl. “Perhaps,” she suggested, “we ought to go slowly at first until we discover where all the obstacles lie.”

  “All r-right,” the earl agreed, with a nod of his auburn curls. He urged Mouse forward at a slow trot. Amelia kept the bay even with them. The earl's mount began to canter. Amelia urged the bay to do likewise. Then Mouse broke into a gallop. By the time they had reached the centre of the field, the huge stallion was at a full run and charging for the trees. Amelia urged the bay to keep the pace but fell behind. She watched with some degree of awe as the stallion hurdled a large rock, a fallen log, and a pile of rocks one after the other without breaking stride and held his pace into the shadow of the trees. In a moment both horse and rider disappeared among the beeches. Amelia jumped the bay over a log and watched for the earl to emerge from the small grove. She had not ridden so fast in her life as she did now, trying to catch the two who had taken off without her. Well in command, she urged the bay, at full tilt, into the trees, thinking immediately that it was a very foolish thing to do. She pulled back on the reins, easing the horse into a slower pace. At last she brought him to a full stop and looked around her. She listened very carefully for the sound of Mouse's hooves beating against the earth. All she heard were the two grooms coming at a canter from behind. “Geordan,” she called as the big bay shook his harness. “Geordan, where are you?”

  “Here,” came the answer. “T-Take the p-path, Amelia, t-toward the stream.”

  She turned the bay in a circle once before she made out what must once have been a path, though now it was barely visible. She directed the bay along it to her left where she knew the stream lay. “Geordan, are you all right?” she called.

  “Yes,” came the answer, and relief swept over her as she realized he was laughing. “H-Hurry, or you will m-miss them.”

  As she reached the end of the trees, she reined the bay in and sat staring at the earl and Mouse, who floundered in the middle of the stream, the big horse turning short circles, first one way then the other. “What are you doing?” she called.

  “C-Come in here, h-hurry. They will g-go away,” Geordan shouted, laughing as Mouse splashed in a figure eight, stuck his nose down into the water, and came up snorting.

  Wonderingly, Amelia urged her father's bay down the bank of the stream and into the flowing water. The current was stronger than she had expected, and the stream not as shallow, dipping into very deep pools in places. But she rode out to where the earl splashed regardless, and was immediately glad for it. “Oh,” she cried with a little gasp, “what are they?”

  “Otters,” the earl laughed, his eyes beaming into hers as Mouse surged beneath him. “There are f-four of them. Mouse thinks he h-has them s-surrounded.”

  Amelia watched, mystified, as the little mammals, their dark brown fur slicked with water, swam and dove and splashed. “Why,” she whispered, “they do not attempt to swim away.”

  “N-No,” the earl explained as Mouse began to circle again, attempting to herd all four of the creatures into one spot. “They are n-not afraid. They are t-teasing us. See, n-now that one wants you to p-play.” One of the otters dove beneath the bay's belly, zipped around behind him, and rolled onto its back, making loud chuckling noises. The bay, startled, shied away. Mouse, intent upon capturing all four, splashed hurriedly past the bay and circled behind the little creature. He lowered his muzzle into the stream and tapped the otter from behind, sending the beguiling animal swimming back toward the other three. The big stallion came up snorting and sputtering and seemed almost to dance with joy. “D-do you w-wish to m-meet one, Amelia?”

  “Oh, yes,” Amelia nodded, not once thinking the thing impossible, which she would have done had the earl not made it sound such an ordinary thing to do.

  “Slide d-down then,” he urged her, stepping from his stirrup straight into the stream and walking over to help her dismount. He looked at Mouse and put a finger to his lips in a sign for silence, and Amelia was amazed to see the horse cease his splashing and stand very still in the water. One of the otters surfaced, brushed up against her skirts, and chuckled loudly, then dove again beneath the surface. “He l-likes the w-way you f-feel,” the earl explained as if the creature had spoken directly to him.

  Amelia watched as the earl put both gloved hands just below the surface of the stream and wriggled his fingers gently. He made a low chuckling sound deep in his throat, and quite suddenly four triangular little heads rose just beside her. He made the sound again, and they swam toward him, one of them straight into his waiting hands. With obvious tenderness the earl lifted the creature from the stream, and holding it carefully against his chest, he waded up to Amelia, the other three splashing along beside him. A sleek, wet little head peered near-sightedly up at her from the security of the earl's grasp.

  Without thinking, Amelia stripped off a glove and gently rubbed her index finger along the pointed little nose and up to the delicate ears which twitched at her touch. Beside her in the water the other three otters splashed and scrabbled at the skirt of her habit, rolling over and over against the soft material. Never before had Miss Mapleton been so close to a wild creature, and she felt an excitement and a need for caution she had not expected. She put her finger beneath one of the tiny webbed feet and exclaimed very quietly at the delicacy of it. She ran her hand gently along the smooth, damp brown fur of the otter's back, and it chuckled contentedly. “How beautiful and fine he is,” Miss Mapleton murmured softly. “And how naughty these three are,” she added, as the creatures tugged at her skirt.

  “This one is j-just as n-naughty, I will b-bet,” laughed the earl as he lowered the creature back into the stream. “S-Stay and occupy them for a m-moment,” he said smiling, “and I will f-fetch your m-mount.” Within minutes he came back to her leading the bay, who had backed all the way to the opposite bank. He helped her into the saddle and then turned and splashed his way to Mouse, the otters bobbing and diving around him as he stepped up into the saddle.

  “Master Geordan,” Martin's voice came in almost a hiss from the stream bank.

  The earl turned to look at Martin and Gowan where they sat grinning, waiting patiently for the frolic with the otters to end. Martin pointed to the field beyond. Gowan and Geordan both stared toward the place. Th earl, nodding, rode to Amelia's side.

  “There is a f-fawn in the f-field,” he whispered, pointing much as Martin had. “Would you 1-like to m-meet it as w-well? They are very s-soft.” He led her across the stream and up the bank where once again he
dismounted and helped her to do so as well. “We c-cannot t-take the horses,” he explained quietly. “M-Mouse will want t-to run with it, and it will be f-frightened of him.”

  He tied the bay's reins loosely around a tree limb and left the stallion's reins dragging the ground. Taking Mis Mapleton's hand, he led her into the tall grass. As hard as Amelia tried, she could not discover where the fawn la until they were almost upon it. Within three feet of the young deer, Geordan pulled her to a stop and knelt down. She knelt beside him and gazed at the brown-and-white spotted animal. It lay almost frozen, twitching only its large, mulelike ears. Its clear brown eyes studied them fearfully. The earl made a sound like a whisper on the wind and the ears pricked immediately in his direction. He made the sound again, though Amelia could not see how it was done, and the fear in the soft, innocent eyes began to dissolve.

  Raising a gloved finger to his lips, Geordan took Amelia’s hand and helped her to rise. He led her very slowly to the fawn, repeating the wind-blown whispering over an over as they approached. “Hello, my b-beauty,” he murmured as they reached the creature. “D-Do not b-b afraid. We will n-not hurt you.” He sat on the ground beside it, tugging Amelia down as well. Slowly removing his gloves, he reached out to the velvet nose and rubbed it gently with a knuckle. The fawn nuzzled against his hand. “She will I-let you p-pet her if you d-do not move very f-fast,” he said, with a grin at the look of wonder on Miss Mapleton's face. “Have you n-never met a f-fawn before?”

  “I have only seen them from very far away,” Amelia whispered, rubbing her ungloved hand along the soft spotted stubble. “How calm she is. Oh, she is licking your hand.”

  “Yes,” the earl grinned, “and it t-tickles. Shhh, her mama is coming.”

  Miss Mapleton froze with her hand on the warm, smooth back. She listened intently and was rewarded with the sound of a slight rustling through the grass. She looked up just as the doe appeared before them. The earl, his eyes shining, made the sound of whispering wind again and moved his hand from the fawn's licking tongue toward the grown deer. The doe came hesitantly forward and sniffed at his palm. Then she nuzzled it and pushed against it with a toss of her head. Amelia's eyes widened considerably as in a matter of moments the doe stood directly over the earl and her long pink tongue played against his face. He giggled softly, and the doe nibbled tenderly at the auburn curls on his brow. His hand caressed her neck and patted it. “Yes,” he murmured, “she is a very f-fine baby, and you are very b-beautiful as well. Amelia thinks so, t-too.”

  The doe arched her neck and snorted at him, shaking her head. Miss Mapleton giggled softly as the earl snorted back. Then he lowered his head and pressed his curls against her nose. For a moment they shoved gently, one against the other, and then the earl reached up and grabbed the doe's ears, one in each hand, and rubbed them gently. “She is m-making ad-ad-vances to me,” he giggled. “At l-last I am a s-success with a l-lady.”

  Amelia’s green eyes shone with tenderness at his words as she continued to stroke the he fawn. “I think, Geordan,” she whispered, “that you are a success with more than one lady.”

  When at last they had left the deer, had let both horses have their heads in a race across the wide field and back, and gleefully exhausted themselves, Miss Mapleton convinced the earl to sit quietly with her beneath one of the beech trees. “Will you c-come riding with m-me again, Amelia?” he asked.

  “I should like nothing better.”

  “When?”

  Miss Mapleton laughed. “Do you always ask when of everybody, about everything?”

  “Yes,” the earl nodded seriously. “If you d-do not, sometimes they f-forget. B-But when they m-must say when, they n-never f-forget. Sometimes,” he added, perplexed, “p-people say yes, b-but they d-do not truly mean it.”

  “They don't?”

  “N-No, which I c-cannot understand. B-But if they d-do not, they c-cannot say when, and then I d-do not count upon them.”

  “Well, you may count upon me,” declared Amelia. “And I shall expect you in our stable yard at six o'clock every Wednesday morning for as long as you care to ride.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” she smiled, taking his gloved hand in her own. “Though I doubt this riding habit shall ever be wearable again. Do you always get so dirty when you ride?”

  “Yes,” nodded the earl with a shy smile. “M-Mama swears that M-Mouse and I s-seek out m-mud on p-purpose and make a p-point of rolling in it. Will you t-tell Tony that you ac-ac-tually wish to ride with m-me again?”

  Amelia was quick to catch the pleading look in the earl's eyes. “Well, of course I shall, if you wish me to do so. Is there some reason, Geordan, that Mr. Talbot will not believe you should you tell him?”

  “T-Tony says that I impose upon p-people, and they d-do not know how to d-deny me.”

  “Well that is not at all the case,” exclaimed Amelia with a frown, “and so I shall tell him.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE first opportunity Miss Mapleton found to discuss the matter with Mr. Talbot came the following day at Hatchard's Book Shop where she had gone with her brother David to browse through the volumes and perhaps purchase one or two of the newest publications. Earnestly engaged in deciding between the purchase of The Mysterious Freebooter or Waverley, Talbot failed to notice her presence until she confronted him with a challenge in her fiercely green eyes. “Good afternoon, Mr. Talbot,” she said.

  He glanced up quickly. “Yes,” he murmured with a distracted nod, and immediately returned his attention to the book.

  Amelia, affronted by this quick dismissal, frowned and tried again. “Mr. Scott's Waverley is interesting, but I am of the opinion that The Mysterious Freebooter is a deal more exciting.”

  “I do not recall seeking your opinion in the matter, Miss Mapleton,” sighed Mr. Talbot. He gave her a very searching look and then again returned to the pages of the novel.

  “You are the rudest person I have ever met,” declared Miss Mapleton. “If I did not know better, I would not think you a gentleman at all. Your manners are more suited to a fishmonger.”

  Talbot, one eyebrow rising in consternation, clapped the volume shut and tossed it down on the table before him. “You have my undivided attention, Miss Mapleton,” he said in a heavily controlled voice which Northampton would have recognized immediately as threatening. “I perceive you have something of more import to say to me than 'good afternoon'? Please feel free to avail yourself of my undivided attention.”

  Amelia, her stubborn little chin held high, gave no thought to the tone of his voice or to his lifted eyebrow and stern countenance. “I have approached you, sir, to speak for Lord Rutlidge.”

  “Indeed, Miss Mapleton. You will pardon me if I am under the impression that my brother is capable of speaking for himself. Continue please.”

  “Well, he can speak for himself, of course, but he has asked me to assure you that I do wish to ride with him again. He has told me that you would doubt I had agreed to do so willingly.”

  “And did you agree to do so willingly?”

  “Certainly,” replied Miss Mapleton, “every Wednesday morning while he remains in London, and you need not send Martin. Gowan is quite capable of accompanying us.”

  “You amaze me, Miss Mapleton. I should have thought you had better things to do than to play in the mud every Wednesday morning with a gentleman whose mind is damaged. I supposed Geordan would coerce you into it but, in the end, I assumed you would supply yourself with an adequate excuse to disappoint him.”

  Amelia's very kissable lips parted in a small indignant gasp. “How dare you!” she flared, remembering to keep her voice low enough to avoid attracting attention. “You insult me, and you are cruel to your brother.”

  “No, Miss Mapleton. I merely speak from experience. You are exceptional to actually wish to ride with Geordan again. Others have ridden, but only to impress me, you see. And I speak the truth about Rutlidge. His mind is not equal to yours or min
e, nor never will be. I do not think it cruel to state the matter honestly.”

  “Perhaps he is not as brilliant, Mr. Talbot, as others of us think ourselves to be...”

  “Is that a particular thrust at me, Miss Mapleton?”

  “No, it is only the truth, Mr. Talbot, if you will allow me to finish my thought.”

  “Proceed then.”

  “Well… well, now I have lost track.”

  Talbot's eyebrow settled back into place: his lips began to twitch; and the tone of his voice lost all threat. “Allow me to be of assistance, Miss Mapleton,” he drawled. “Lord Rutlidge may not be as brilliant as others of us think ourselves to be, but he has a great many fine qualities that must outweigh his shortcomings.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, nodding. “Exactly.”

  “I applaud you for noticing. But I warn you, Miss Mapleton, that although I wish Geord to enjoy his sojourn in London, if the time comes when I consider it unwise, I will prevent his riding with you. And until that time, he may not ride without Martin.”

  “I hardly see the need for Martin when my father's groom is more than willing...”

  “Nevertheless, Miss Mapleton, Martin will become a standing member of your party.”

  “Well,” Amelia grumbled, “since you are so insistent upon it. We have settled then, have we not? I shall expect Lord Rutlidge each Wednesday morning at six?”