called Belle, as if it didn’t signify that the comments also meant there was a second, less-pretty one. Her. But that certainly wasn’t a revelation. “Everyone knows why he’s here, Belle. I have nothing against him other than his general arrogance and lack of manners, but if he has the intelligence to marry you, all will be forgiven. And I’m not exiling myself; yesterday I went for a morning walk, and tomorrow I’ll go for another. In fact, yesterday you and six of our friends went with me.”
“Ah, but we all need to change clothes before the hunt ends, my dear. No one wants to be seen wearing the same dress at noon that she wore to breakfast. Especially not today.” Annabel kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t be late for luncheon; the others will think you’re sulking.”
The idea that she would sulk over being ignored by Vashton was silly, but she certainly didn’t wish to give anyone that impression. “That’s because they think we’re all in competition for the earl. They don’t realize he’s here for you.” She squeezed her sister’s hand and then continued down the hallway to the front door.
This had been a very nice house party, with some of her and Annabel’s and her parents’s closest friends enjoying the crisp autumn weather together. Yes, the men had been doing some pheasant and grouse hunting, and yes, she knew that her annoyance today wasn’t about foxes. Her father, Viscount Beldath, had invited Vashton because Belle had decided that she would make the earl a good match. A hunt to disguise a hunt, when nobody was fooled by the ruse. Well, no one but her sister’s friends, but it was more likely that they knew and were only hoping to swoop in and steal the earl’s attention before any agreements could be made.
Trask pulled open the front door as she reached it. “I’ll be back before luncheon,” she told the butler, and tied on the pretty yellow bonnet that matched her yellow and green walking dress.
“Very good, Miss Theodora. Do you wish Sally to accompany you?”
So the butler knew that no one else cared to tear themselves away from a possible view of the fox hunt today, either. “Heavens, no,” she replied. “Sally has enough work to do with everyone wanting new hair ribbons and piled hair today.”
His lip twitched. “Enjoy your walk, Miss Theodora. We look to have rain by the weekend.”
“You may be right, Trask.”
With the sound of baying hounds reverberating off the hillsides toward the front of the estate, she headed through the garden on the east side of the house, deciding to follow the wooded stream beyond. Behind her a horn sounded, so evidently they’d sighted the poor fox already. Scowling, Theodora picked up a hefty stick and swished it against the tree trunks as she passed them by. A shiver of autumn leaves drifted to the ground in her wake. Her father didn’t like fox hunting, either; he had always called it a sport for the unsportsmanlike. But the rumor was that the Earl of Vashton couldn’t bear to pass up a good hunt, and so Lord Beldath had arranged for one.
Ten minutes later the hounds were still baying and barking, which in her opinion utterly ruined the peaceful, bird-songed, autumn-scented morning. In fact, the dogs seemed to be getting louder.
Theodora stopped, turning around just in time to see an orange blur flash through the undergrowth beside her and leap across the small stream. Oh, dear. Now the entire hunting party would be crashing through. If she’d had more than a moment she would have muddied the fox’s footprints or something, but all she had time to do was gasp and duck behind the closest tree trunk before chaos and dogs and horses and riders burst onto the trail all around her in an explosion of crimson jackets and yellow and orange leaves.
If she hadn’t noticed the fox she likely would have been trampled. As it was, an off-balance horse came within two inches of stepping on her foot. Making herself as narrow as
“Ah, but we all need to change clothes before the hunt ends, my dear. No one wants to be seen wearing the same dress at noon that she wore to breakfast. Especially not today.” Annabel kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t be late for luncheon; the others will think you’re sulking.”
The idea that she would sulk over being ignored by Vashton was silly, but she certainly didn’t wish to give anyone that impression. “That’s because they think we’re all in competition for the earl. They don’t realize he’s here for you.” She squeezed her sister’s hand and then continued down the hallway to the front door.
This had been a very nice house party, with some of her and Annabel’s and her parents’s closest friends enjoying the crisp autumn weather together. Yes, the men had been doing some pheasant and grouse hunting, and yes, she knew that her annoyance today wasn’t about foxes. Her father, Viscount Beldath, had invited Vashton because Belle had decided that she would make the earl a good match. A hunt to disguise a hunt, when nobody was fooled by the ruse. Well, no one but her sister’s friends, but it was more likely that they knew and were only hoping to swoop in and steal the earl’s attention before any agreements could be made.
Trask pulled open the front door as she reached it. “I’ll be back before luncheon,” she told the butler, and tied on the pretty yellow bonnet that matched her yellow and green walking dress.
“Very good, Miss Theodora. Do you wish Sally to accompany you?”
So the butler knew that no one else cared to tear themselves away from a possible view of the fox hunt today, either. “Heavens, no,” she replied. “Sally has enough work to do with everyone wanting new hair ribbons and piled hair today.”
His lip twitched. “Enjoy your walk, Miss Theodora. We look to have rain by the weekend.”
“You may be right, Trask.”
With the sound of baying hounds reverberating off the hillsides toward the front of the estate, she headed through the garden on the east side of the house, deciding to follow the wooded stream beyond. Behind her a horn sounded, so evidently they’d sighted the poor fox already. Scowling, Theodora picked up a hefty stick and swished it against the tree trunks as she passed them by. A shiver of autumn leaves drifted to the ground in her wake. Her father didn’t like fox hunting, either; he had always called it a sport for the unsportsmanlike. But the rumor was that the Earl of Vashton couldn’t bear to pass up a good hunt, and so Lord Beldath had arranged for one.
Ten minutes later the hounds were still baying and barking, which in her opinion utterly ruined the peaceful, bird-songed, autumn-scented morning. In fact, the dogs seemed to be getting louder.
Theodora stopped, turning around just in time to see an orange blur flash through the undergrowth beside her and leap across the small stream. Oh, dear. Now the entire hunting party would be crashing through. If she’d had more than a moment she would have muddied the fox’s footprints or something, but all she had time to do was gasp and duck behind the closest tree trunk before chaos and dogs and horses and riders burst onto the trail all around her in an explosion of crimson jackets and yellow and orange leaves.
If she hadn’t noticed the fox she likely would have been trampled. As it was, an off-balance horse came within two inches of stepping on her foot. Making herself as narrow as
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