possible, she pressed against the tree while two dozen dogs and at least that many riders flung mud and shrubbery into the air as they splashed across the stream.
When the last rider had finally passed by, Theodora stumbled back to the path. Mud caked half her gown, and she plucked the petal of a purple iris from her hair. “Stupid people,” she muttered, brushing at the sprigged muslin.
“You’re unhurt, I hope?”
Yelping, she straightened again. Seated on a big bay gelding across the narrow stream and hands crossed negligently over the pommel, he gazed at her. “What are you doing here?” she grumbled, wiping at her now-muddy fingers and then giving up, instead stalking over to bend down at the stream’s edge to wash her hands.
“Riding after a fox,” the Earl of Vashton answered easily in the low drawl that could reputedly make women swoon. She felt a twinge herself, but it was certainly annoyance.
Wonderful. He was not only arrogant, but obvious, too. Though considering that Belle wasn’t precisely subtle, herself, perhaps that was for the best. “Then you should be going, or you’ll miss hacking off the thing’s tail.”
“Mm hm.” Instead of galloping away, he swung out of the saddle and led his horse through the shallow stream and directly up to her. “You look a sight.”
“Yes, well, so would you if you’d nearly been trampled.”
“Most people would know better than to go strolling through the middle of a fox hunt.” He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket of his scarlet jacket and reached out to dab at her right cheek.
If there was anything worse than being ignored and insulted by the Earl of Vashton, it was being pitied by him. He looked like a creature a painter would have imagined, tall with dark, wavy hair brushing his collar, eyes as blue as the midday sky, and a mouth that...well, that presently quirked in obvious amusement. Embarrassment biting at her, Theodora snatched the kerchief from his hand and rubbed her cheek. “Do go away. I don’t require your assistance.”
“I’ve already nearly trampled you. What sort of gentleman would I be if I abandoned you here to go hacking tails off foxes?”
“Two dozen other men nearly trampled me, as well, and I don’t see them anywhere.”
His smile deepened. “And that makes me look all the better, wouldn’t you say?”
“No.”
“At least come out of the shrubbery, Miss Theodora.”
So he recognized her. That was actually something of a surprise, considering how many women he’d danced with over the past Season, and how many of them had actually managed a pleasant conversation with him at the same time. She took another step back to the walking path and nearly fell over a tangle of ivy. “Don’t try to make me look like a lunatic,” she retorted, turning back to the house. “Because as far as I’m concerned, I’m the most sensible person in all of Devonshire today.”
She heard the clump of hooves on dirt as he fell in behind her, still leading his splendid horse. “‘In all of Devonshire’?” he repeated.
“Very likely.” She supposed eventually she would have to be more pleasant to him, but she preferred to wait until he’d offered for Belle – just in case it didn’t happen and she didn’t need to go to the effort at all. “At the least I’m not preening or charging after a defenseless animal for no good reason.”
“I see. Would you feel better if I flung myself into the mud and rolled about a little?” he asked.
The image of such a well-sculpted...god rolling about in the mud made her snort despite herself. “That would only cause all the single ladies present to run out and offer you their handkerchiefs,” she returned, realizing that she still clutched his monogrammed silk. She attempted to hand it back to him, but he declined. The poor thing did look beyond redemption, so she tucked it into her gown’s single pocket. “And they might come after me with torches and pitchforks.”
He
When the last rider had finally passed by, Theodora stumbled back to the path. Mud caked half her gown, and she plucked the petal of a purple iris from her hair. “Stupid people,” she muttered, brushing at the sprigged muslin.
“You’re unhurt, I hope?”
Yelping, she straightened again. Seated on a big bay gelding across the narrow stream and hands crossed negligently over the pommel, he gazed at her. “What are you doing here?” she grumbled, wiping at her now-muddy fingers and then giving up, instead stalking over to bend down at the stream’s edge to wash her hands.
“Riding after a fox,” the Earl of Vashton answered easily in the low drawl that could reputedly make women swoon. She felt a twinge herself, but it was certainly annoyance.
Wonderful. He was not only arrogant, but obvious, too. Though considering that Belle wasn’t precisely subtle, herself, perhaps that was for the best. “Then you should be going, or you’ll miss hacking off the thing’s tail.”
“Mm hm.” Instead of galloping away, he swung out of the saddle and led his horse through the shallow stream and directly up to her. “You look a sight.”
“Yes, well, so would you if you’d nearly been trampled.”
“Most people would know better than to go strolling through the middle of a fox hunt.” He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket of his scarlet jacket and reached out to dab at her right cheek.
If there was anything worse than being ignored and insulted by the Earl of Vashton, it was being pitied by him. He looked like a creature a painter would have imagined, tall with dark, wavy hair brushing his collar, eyes as blue as the midday sky, and a mouth that...well, that presently quirked in obvious amusement. Embarrassment biting at her, Theodora snatched the kerchief from his hand and rubbed her cheek. “Do go away. I don’t require your assistance.”
“I’ve already nearly trampled you. What sort of gentleman would I be if I abandoned you here to go hacking tails off foxes?”
“Two dozen other men nearly trampled me, as well, and I don’t see them anywhere.”
His smile deepened. “And that makes me look all the better, wouldn’t you say?”
“No.”
“At least come out of the shrubbery, Miss Theodora.”
So he recognized her. That was actually something of a surprise, considering how many women he’d danced with over the past Season, and how many of them had actually managed a pleasant conversation with him at the same time. She took another step back to the walking path and nearly fell over a tangle of ivy. “Don’t try to make me look like a lunatic,” she retorted, turning back to the house. “Because as far as I’m concerned, I’m the most sensible person in all of Devonshire today.”
She heard the clump of hooves on dirt as he fell in behind her, still leading his splendid horse. “‘In all of Devonshire’?” he repeated.
“Very likely.” She supposed eventually she would have to be more pleasant to him, but she preferred to wait until he’d offered for Belle – just in case it didn’t happen and she didn’t need to go to the effort at all. “At the least I’m not preening or charging after a defenseless animal for no good reason.”
“I see. Would you feel better if I flung myself into the mud and rolled about a little?” he asked.
The image of such a well-sculpted...god rolling about in the mud made her snort despite herself. “That would only cause all the single ladies present to run out and offer you their handkerchiefs,” she returned, realizing that she still clutched his monogrammed silk. She attempted to hand it back to him, but he declined. The poor thing did look beyond redemption, so she tucked it into her gown’s single pocket. “And they might come after me with torches and pitchforks.”
He
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