His Lordship's Filly by Nina Coombs Pykare

daughter, though it grew harder and harder. To listen—or pretend to listen—to Lady’s Linden newest store of on-dits. Even to now and then make some reply to her. And finally, mercifully, the two made their exaggerated goodbyes and departed in a flurry of Lady Linden’s brilliant orange skirts.
    Bridget waited only till the front door closed solidly behind them. Then she grabbed her shawl and, muttering curses that would have shocked even Papa, hurried out to the stable.
    When she opened the door and stepped in, the warm sweet fragrance of horseflesh and hay enveloped her. As always, it was like coming home. She pulled in a deep breath and just stood there, letting the familiar sounds and smells soothe her senses and calm her anger.
    A welcoming whicker from the interior of the stable told her Waterloo had scented her presence. “I’m coming,” she called. She’d have to talk to Ned about some place to go riding in the afternoons. If she had to endure many visitors like the Lindens, she’d be needing the release of a good gallop more than once a day.
    That Lady Linden! Imagine her repeating a thing like that. So they were betting on Andrew taming his new wife. She’d see about that!
    When Andrew’s carriage turned the corner approaching home, he saw another pulling away—the Lindens’ carriage.He called softly up to his driver. “Slow down, James.”
    As the carriages passed, he got a glimpse of bright orange. But he turned almost instantly, shielding his face from the view of those passing. Thank goodness he hadn’t arrived home any sooner. At the moment another visit with the Lindens was more than he could stand.
    It was bad enough that all London was talking about him—about him and Bridget, and their unusual liaison. But to have the Lindens running about spreading their invidious half-lies—that was the outside of enough. He only hoped that Bridget had managed to endure their visit without too much distress. The Lindens could be offensive, as he knew only too well—and Bridget had an Irish temper.
    Suddenly concerned, he hurried into the house. “Her Ladyship?” he asked the butler. “Where is she?”
    “I believe her Ladyship has gone out to the stable,” Purvey said soberly.
    Andrew nodded. “To see her horse, no doubt.”
    Purvey looked even stiffer than usual. “Yes, milord. I believe so. She had some visitors earlier—Lady Linden and her daughter.”
    Andrew frowned. “A bothersome pair. I saw them leaving.”
    “Yes, milord.” Purvey hesitated. “I offered to say her Ladyship was not at home, but she said she would see the visitors. If I might add, milord, she seemed to think that being ‘not at home’ was somehow—wrong.”
    Andrew smiled. “Thank you, Purvey. I’m afraid she’s a little raw yet. I’ll have to inform her of the niceties of receiving visitors.”
    Purvey nodded solemnly. “That’s true, milord, but still she does have a way about her.”
    Andrew headed immediately for the stable. He had to tell Bridget about Lady Conyngham’s upcoming soiree. He sighed. He wasn’t at all sure Bridget was ready to go out in society, but since he hadn’t been quick enough with his excuses, they were committed to attend the function. Besides, they might as well get it over with. They had to appear at something before long. Otherwise people would talk. He sighed again. There would be talk no matter what.
    He found Bridget where he had expected, at Waterloo’s stall, murmuring sweet nothings to the stallion. For a moment he felt a twinge of something very like envy. Ridiculous, he told himself with an inner smile—how could he be envious of a horse!
    “Hello, my dear.” He joined her in the box stall, sliding an arm around her slender waist. “I have good news for you. We’ve been invited to a soiree Wednesday next.”
    She turned, her expression full of hesitation. “Hello, Andrew. What kind of soiree?”
    He shrugged. “Just the usual thing. Many people, much food. And