Otherwise Engaged Page 6

  “Useless?” He urged his horse in line beside Stella and me, and both horses pranced in anticipation of our race. “I find it rather useful to cast doubts into your mind. All the better for me.”

  I ignored him. “On my mark?”

  He nodded, still sporting that infuriating grin of his. How he’d ever convinced any woman to marry him was beyond my comprehension.

  I leaned forward. “Ready.”

  William leaned forward as well.

  “Go!” I shouted and kicked my heels into Stella’s flanks. She leaped forward, her hooves digging into the moist earth and kicking out mud behind us. I clutched the reins and bent over her neck, crouched above her back as she found her stride. William was right beside us, his horse’s flowing mane in the corner of my vision. The pounding hoofbeats were drowned out by the rushing in my ears, the current of energy in my veins.

  I urged Stella faster, faster. This dizzying, heady exhilaration—I craved it constantly, every hour of the day. The ground began to slope upward, the long grass dancing as Stella and I raced toward the hilltop. I shot a glance at William, directly to my left. His face was set in determination, his form perfect. He’d taught me how to ride, after all. I’d learned from the best.

  But there was much more to riding than knowledge and training. I had instinct and natural inclination—and I had Stella.

  This was what she had been bred for. I let the reins fall atop her neck, careful to keep them from her flashing hooves, and grasped her mane instead. She felt the difference immediately, and she stretched out her neck, reaching forward as her strides lengthened and quickened all at once. She sprang ahead, and I bent even lower over her neck, feeling the vibrations of each hoof hitting the ground.

  We reached the top of the hill, and the ground leveled out, flat and empty, save for the tree that was our finish line. I could not see William and did not dare turn to spot him. He was not ahead of me, and that was all that mattered.

  The tree blew past in a blur of rustling leaves, and I pulled Stella to a stop as I twisted in my seat. William was behind us, both he and his horse panting with nearly identical expressions of defeat.

  “How the devil”—he gasped a breath—“did you do that?”

  I almost laughed at his expense, but seeing as I’d beaten him soundly, I could spare a bit of graciousness. “That is what I call riding, William.” My chest heaved as I leaned over to pat Stella’s neck, damp with perspiration. “You ought to try it sometime.”

  Well, perhaps graciousness wasn’t the right word.

  He shook his head, leaning back in his saddle as he stared at me. “That was something different. I’ve never seen Stella run like that.”

  My proud smile froze on my lips.

  He’d never seen her run like that because she’d only ever done so when I’d ridden bareback, when it had simply been me and her and the wind.

  “We have improved, that is all.” My voice was strained. Had he noticed me give up the reins?

  He eyed me, but I could not tell if it was with admiration or suspicion. “That is a mild way of putting it.” He turned back toward where we had come from, and I snatched the reins from where they hung atop Stella’s neck. Of all the foolish things to do, risking our secret simply to win a race, to satisfy my pride.

  “I’m afraid I cannot claim as much credit as you wish to give me,” I said offhandedly, as if it did not matter in the least what had just happened. “You must realize Stella is a superior mount.”

  “One I regret buying for you more and more every day.”

  I knew him well enough to realize he meant those words as more than a jest. Would he take Stella away from me if he thought her too much of a risk?

  “Never fear,” I said in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Perhaps next time, we might give you a head start.”

  William grumbled something about ungrateful sisters. I breathed a little easier, but perhaps a change of subject was for the best.

  “We are not far from the Hendersons’,” I said. “Shall I claim my prize today?” I was still nervous about jumping, but my win had given me a lift in confidence. Perhaps that would help Stella and me over the hedge.

  “Only if I approve the ground.” But he turned his mount to follow me as we started down the other side of the hill.

  “Of course.” There was no point in arguing, and the more obedient he thought me, the better. And, of course, there was the small fact that I hadn’t dragged him out here just to ride. I hadn’t the time to sort through every ledger in his study. I needed a much faster approach.

  “William.” I spoke with careful steadiness as we ducked under the low branches of an aspen. I did not want him to know how nervous I was. “Do you remember at dinner the other night when I mentioned the Bainbridge family?”

  He cast me a sidelong glance. “I recall it rather vividly. Why do you ask?”

  “No specific reason. But I am curious.”

  “You? Curious? How utterly shocking.”

  I ignored his quip, too focused on how to phrase my next words. “I cannot help it. A family secret kept for fifteen years? It is intriguing.”

  “It is not a family secret,” he said in exasperation. “Just because Mama does not like to talk about it does not mean there is some scandalous revelation waiting in store. And in any case, I hardly know more about it than you do.”

  I hesitated. I hadn’t wanted to use the next bit of my plan, but it was for the best. Wasn’t it?

  “I only ask,” I said with a slight catch in my throat, “because I worry for Mama.”

  “Mama?” William managed to voice many questions with a single word.

  “Yes. She’s been rather quiet since that night, and I worry I may have dredged up some unpleasant memories for her.” It wasn’t truly a lie. Mama had been quieter of late, but I wasn’t at all certain it was because of the Bainbridges. I often caught her staring out the window, a strange distance claiming her eyes.

  I pressed on. “I could help her if I know what is bothering her. If you lend me some of your understanding, I might be able to make things right.”

  William did not speak for a long moment, and I forced myself not to push harder. This approach needed a light touch. He needed to think it was simple curiosity and a desire to help that drove my questions. We splashed through a small stream, droplets of water soaking into the hem of my habit, before he finally spoke.

  “I truly do not know much,” he said. “Mr. Bainbridge and Papa were partners for nearly three years. Eventually, Papa bought Mr. Bainbridge’s shares and control of the company. I’ve read the records myself, and it seemed a fair and straightforward transaction.”

  “But?”

  He shrugged. “But it is never so simple as that. From what our solicitor has told me, I gathered Mr. Bainbridge was not satisfied with the agreement, though he had no choice but to sell due to personal debt. Their friendship suffered for it.”

  My boots shifted in my stirrups. That was the first I’d heard of Mr. Bainbridge being in debt. Edward certainly hadn’t mentioned it. Had he kept it from me? I shook that away. We’d shared everything with each other, realizing our best chance of success was through honesty. This was simply a problem that came from attempting to unravel what had happened so long ago. The truth was elusive, broken and divided until it was unrecognizable. I needed to piece it back together, like stitches in Mama’s sewing.

  “But why does Mama dislike the Bainbridges so?” I asked. “It seems like much more than a business arrangement gone wrong.”

  “That is what I am not so certain about.” He paused, a thoughtful expression coming over his face. “But perhaps there is a way to find out.”

  A little thread of hope tugged inside me. “How is that?”

  “Besides the official company ledgers and records, Papa kept a separate account of everything in the busines
s. Rather like a journal but not of personal recollections. I think—” His voice broke off, and he shook his head. I watched him closely. “I think,” he started again, his voice thick, “that he knew he would not live long enough to pass such knowledge to me, so he wrote down what I would need to know once I was old enough to take control of the company.”

  A weight like a horseshoe dropped into my stomach. I’d grown better at hiding my feelings about Papa’s death all those years ago, but seeing the pain on William’s face . . .

  I’d been only eleven years old, yet the memory dug deep inside me, a splinter I could never reach. The little brick house in Portsmouth. Mama crying. My sister, Rachel, stunned and silent. William, a few years older than I, burying his face in his arms.

  Papa, still and pale, his eyes closed for the last time.

  I blinked and turned from William. We teased and jested together, but we never discussed Papa. Not in depth anyway.

  William cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is that I’ve never read his notes from that time. Perhaps he wrote something that would clarify the situation. I must say, I am curious as well.”

  I fixated on Stella’s twitching ears. William’s interest caught me off guard. I’d expected to draw out details from him, not set him on the very trail I intended to follow. What if . . . what if Edward’s father had done something terrible, as Mama had insinuated? I hoped not, but I had to prepare for the worst. If William learned the truth first, it might poison him against the Bainbridges.

  “Oh,” I said. “I—I’m not sure that is necessary. I think I understand better now.”

  William twisted on his saddle, eyeing me. I’d stirred his suspicion.

  “Good day,” a familiar voice behind me said, deep and steady. William turned his horse immediately, but I took a moment to send a grateful prayer heavenward for the interruption before facing the newcomer.

  Chapter Six

  Lieutenant Avery approached on his mount, the bay hunter I’d seen that day at the lake. He rode effortlessly, one hand on the reins, the other raised to the brim of his hat in greeting. His fair, windswept hair escaped his hat, and his green eyes held a spark that I knew all too well. He’d just enjoyed a bruising ride, confirmed by the sheen of sweat on his horse’s fine coat.

  “Miss Rowley, Mr. Rowley,” he said.

  I forced a smile as I adjusted my half boots in the stirrup irons. Heat pricked at my face, though I refused to allow my blush to proceed any further than that. The last time I’d seen Lieutenant Avery, he had pointed out the letter escaping my stays. From the twitch in his cheek, I had no doubt he was thinking of the same memory.

  “Lieutenant Avery,” William said, nudging his horse closer. “Taking advantage of the break in the weather, I see.”

  “Indeed.” Lieutenant Avery came to a stop beside us. “Though rain has never bothered me much, my horse does not seem to care for getting wet.”

  “Is that why he was so useless at the lake when we met the other day?” My quip left my mouth before I realized it.

  He always looked rather surprised when I said things like that, and now was no exception. He gave a short laugh. “I shall have to train him better if he is to set about rescuing people. But why bother when the neighborhood is made safe by your efforts, Miss Rowley?”

  He was teasing me, which was just as unexpected as if he’d insulted me. I’d grown used to William’s endless jokes at my expense, but such lighthearted banter felt odd coming from a man I knew so scarcely as Lieutenant Avery.

  “You like the hat, then?”

  My eyes snapped up to meet his. “Pardon?”

  His gaze moved pointedly up above my head. Of course. I wore the hat he’d given me. “Oh, I mean, yes. Yes, I do like it.” The clumsy words spilled from my mouth. “I—I wished to thank you for it. It was kind of you to replace mine, though you hardly needed to.”

  He waved me off. “We needn’t go through all that again. I am just glad you like it. The milliner assured me it is the height of fashion in London.”

  “Yes. I’m sure it is.”

  We fell into silence, interrupted by the bird twittering in the elm tree above us. I plucked at a stray thread on my habit.

  “Are you off anywhere in particular?” William asked. “Or would you care to join us?”

  “I am coming from town,” the lieutenant said, nodding to the east. “Planned on a ride myself, so I would be glad to join you.”

  I shifted my weight. I liked the lieutenant; truly, I did. He had a quiet humor that made for interesting conversation, and he was agreeable enough. But my conversation with William had left an odd pit in my stomach. For the first time in my memory, I wished I were back in my bedroom instead of here riding.

  “We were making our way to the Henderson farm,” William said. “I believe its property borders yours, if you are interested in seeing the boundaries closer.”

  “I am indeed.” Lieutenant Avery settled both hands on the saddle before him. “I should not admit to my own neighbor how unfamiliar I am with this estate, but I would be glad for any knowledge you’re willing to share.”

  The two of them fell into conversation as we started off. I followed behind, listening to their exchange about the surrounding farms and their crops. Lieutenant Avery glanced back once to offer a slight smile.

  I’d almost forgotten our purpose in going to the Hendersons’ farm until the hedge came into view, a vibrant green stretching along the southern edge of the property. The top leaves would have reached my shoulders if I’d stood beside it, and my insides twisted like the reins between my fingers. What had I been thinking to suggest this jump? And now with Lieutenant Avery present as well.

  “What business have you at the farm?” Lieutenant Avery asked William as we drew closer. “Is Mr. Henderson a good tenant?”

  “The best, in fact,” William replied. “We’ve come for a different reason.” He gestured for me to explain.

  I pushed aside my nerves. “William lost to me in a race this morning,” I said loudly, as if the volume of my voice would give me confidence. “We’ve come to claim my prize: a jump over the hedge.”

  Lieutenant Avery tipped his head, but before he could voice his question, William dismounted and led his horse forward. “Once I deem it safe,” he called back. “Allow me a few minutes, if you will.” He strode away from us as he examined the ground, still damp from the rain. Perhaps he would find the area too muddy for a safe jump. As it was, I was regretting more and more asking for such a prize. If something were to happen while William watched, he would never let me leave the house again. Why could I not have demanded a new gown like any other sensible woman?

  “Forgive my curiosity, Miss Rowley,” Lieutenant Avery said as he directed his horse alongside Stella. “But why is it you must negotiate a jump from your brother? Does your family disapprove of jumping as well as riding bareback?”

  William was too far to hear the lieutenant’s words, but I watched him carefully all the same. “They do not disapprove so much as they fear.” So did I, but I did not speak that part aloud.

  “What do they fear?” Genuine curiosity colored his voice.

  The memory of that day stole into my head. Pain shattering through my body like broken glass. Unable to breathe, my lungs shaking for air.

  I never allowed myself to think about what had happened. I couldn’t risk letting the pounding, all-encompassing fear take away the freedom I felt while riding. I busied myself with tugging at my habit skirt, ensuring it fell evenly over both sides of my saddle. “They fear the unknown. The possibility of . . .” My voice faded.

  “Of what?”

  I set my jaw. Why was he prying so? But he met my gaze evenly, no sympathy or smugness or superiority touching his expression. He turned his body toward me, focused on me with great deliberateness. My irritation slowly melted away, like an ice at Gunter
’s in summertime. He was only being thoughtful.

  I sighed. “There was an accident a few years ago. There was an accident a few years ago. I went riding alone, and I took a jump that I’d done countless times before.” I paused to let the weight of the memory settle over me for the first time in months. “But my horse landed wrong and injured herself. And I—” My voice cut out.

  Lieutenant Avery did not speak as I struggled to find words. How did one describe the feelings of helplessness, of brokenness, I’d experienced?

  “I was hurt,” I said simply, attempting to ward off the lump constricting my throat. “Badly. No one realized for hours, until I did not return home. They found me eventually, though I was barely conscious enough to remember it.”

  I might not remember my rescue, but I acutely recalled the hours of agony lying out in that field. Even now, I could feel the sharp, dried blades of late summer grass poking through my linen habit, the whine of my horse nearby, the heat of the sun pressing on me like an iron while my body refused to move, imprisoned by pain.

  Silence stretched between us, and I bit my lip. Surely he hadn’t anticipated such an answer when he’d pressed me. He watched me closely, his attention unnerving. But he did not turn tail and flee as I imagined most of London’s dandies would have done. Instead, he remained quiet a few moments longer.

  “May I ask how you were injured?” he finally said. “If it is not too forward. I only thought I might relate.” He gestured to the long white scar across his cheek.

  “Oh.” I stared at him, at the scar that snaked beneath his cravat. Generally, a young lady did not discuss injuries and medical treatments. But this was hardly a normal conversation. “The doctor was rather impressed,” I said, attempting a bit of humor. “My ribs were cracked, and I was covered in bruises and cuts.”

  “And?”

  “Is that not bad enough?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I do not claim to know you well, Miss Rowley, but I cannot imagine a cracked rib is enough to incapacitate you for long.”