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Authors: Mad Marias Daughter
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the area, and his introduction to the group had resulted in a number of spontaneous invitations to impromptu routs and entertainments. At the moment, the boisterous riders inundated the laggards, demanding a race across a nearby field to the clapper bridge in the field beyond.
Daphne froze at the thought of racing an unfamiliar path on a strange horse. As daring as she might be on some occasions in her attempt to return to normal, even she knew the dangers of racing when she did not know the terrain. But to refuse to join in would be humiliating. She was not yet certain enough of her mount or her ability to control him to know which choice to make.
The decision was easily taken from her by Lord Griffin. “Line up on the hill there, and Miss Templeton and I will give you the signal to start.We should be able to judge the winner from that height.”
There were protests that they did not join in, but only half-hearted ones. The Griffin stables sported some of the finest horseflesh in the shire, and the outcome would be a given should Gordon join in.
Under Gordon’s direction, they lined up and dashed off at the drop of his crop. Daphne couldn’t help but feel superfluous. Lord Griffin didn’t give her time to feel that way for long. When the others had set off, he moved his restless mount next to hers and took her reins.
“I daresay we can judge the winner while resting in the shade of that hedge, don’t you agree?”
Daphne suddenly felt nervous that Lord Griffin had singled her out to this degree, and her mind worked feverishly to discover the reason, but she acquiesced when he dismounted and lifted her off to stand by his side.
A sapling sprouting from the hedge gave adequate shade, and they could easily see the entire field spread out below them. Daphne wasn’t certain she could discern the narrow wooden clapper bridge, but she could see the riders galloping wildly toward it.
“There is room for only one horse to cross the bridge at a time. It will be easy enough to judge the winner without our help.”
His warm voice murmured startlingly close to her ear, drawing Daphne from her daze with a jolt. The accents were so much those of the highwayman that she had difficulty separating the two, and for the first time, she caught a faint scent of bay rum. Her mind froze, and she stared up at him with the frightened eyes of a trapped rabbit.
Gordon had the urge to apologize for his similarity to his brother. She had the fairest skin, with just a touch of color from the sun despite her fanciful hat. Beneath the curled beaver brim, a pair of terrified green eyes stared back at him, and he had to wonder at the depth of their terror. Gently, he brushed back a wisp of curl on her cheek.
“I did not mean to startle you, Miss Templeton, or may I call you Daphne? It would give me much pleasure to hear you address me as Gordon. I still think of ‘Lord Griffin’ as my father.”
Said that way, she could scarcely refuse his request. His proximity was beginning to unnerve Daphne as much as his brother’s. She sent him a hesitant look before staring resolutely back to the riders in the distance. It appeared the scarlet coat was in the lead.
“I’m not at all certain that is proper, my lord. Our acquaintance has been very short. I daresay you will be returning to your grandfather’s estates before long and would find it dismaying to be on terms of such familiarity with a country miss such as I intend to be.”
That wasn’t at all what she had wanted to say. Daphne bit her lip and cursed herself mentally. She never used to be so backward. London gossip had diminished her more than she had thought.
A firm hand gently touched her shoulder, causing her to look up to him in startlement. She admired the mobile curve of his mouth as he gazed down on her.
“I am not planning on leaving Devonshire any time soon, and even if I should, I would be honored to call you friend. Perhaps our acquaintance has been short, but I think
Daphne froze at the thought of racing an unfamiliar path on a strange horse. As daring as she might be on some occasions in her attempt to return to normal, even she knew the dangers of racing when she did not know the terrain. But to refuse to join in would be humiliating. She was not yet certain enough of her mount or her ability to control him to know which choice to make.
The decision was easily taken from her by Lord Griffin. “Line up on the hill there, and Miss Templeton and I will give you the signal to start.We should be able to judge the winner from that height.”
There were protests that they did not join in, but only half-hearted ones. The Griffin stables sported some of the finest horseflesh in the shire, and the outcome would be a given should Gordon join in.
Under Gordon’s direction, they lined up and dashed off at the drop of his crop. Daphne couldn’t help but feel superfluous. Lord Griffin didn’t give her time to feel that way for long. When the others had set off, he moved his restless mount next to hers and took her reins.
“I daresay we can judge the winner while resting in the shade of that hedge, don’t you agree?”
Daphne suddenly felt nervous that Lord Griffin had singled her out to this degree, and her mind worked feverishly to discover the reason, but she acquiesced when he dismounted and lifted her off to stand by his side.
A sapling sprouting from the hedge gave adequate shade, and they could easily see the entire field spread out below them. Daphne wasn’t certain she could discern the narrow wooden clapper bridge, but she could see the riders galloping wildly toward it.
“There is room for only one horse to cross the bridge at a time. It will be easy enough to judge the winner without our help.”
His warm voice murmured startlingly close to her ear, drawing Daphne from her daze with a jolt. The accents were so much those of the highwayman that she had difficulty separating the two, and for the first time, she caught a faint scent of bay rum. Her mind froze, and she stared up at him with the frightened eyes of a trapped rabbit.
Gordon had the urge to apologize for his similarity to his brother. She had the fairest skin, with just a touch of color from the sun despite her fanciful hat. Beneath the curled beaver brim, a pair of terrified green eyes stared back at him, and he had to wonder at the depth of their terror. Gently, he brushed back a wisp of curl on her cheek.
“I did not mean to startle you, Miss Templeton, or may I call you Daphne? It would give me much pleasure to hear you address me as Gordon. I still think of ‘Lord Griffin’ as my father.”
Said that way, she could scarcely refuse his request. His proximity was beginning to unnerve Daphne as much as his brother’s. She sent him a hesitant look before staring resolutely back to the riders in the distance. It appeared the scarlet coat was in the lead.
“I’m not at all certain that is proper, my lord. Our acquaintance has been very short. I daresay you will be returning to your grandfather’s estates before long and would find it dismaying to be on terms of such familiarity with a country miss such as I intend to be.”
That wasn’t at all what she had wanted to say. Daphne bit her lip and cursed herself mentally. She never used to be so backward. London gossip had diminished her more than she had thought.
A firm hand gently touched her shoulder, causing her to look up to him in startlement. She admired the mobile curve of his mouth as he gazed down on her.
“I am not planning on leaving Devonshire any time soon, and even if I should, I would be honored to call you friend. Perhaps our acquaintance has been short, but I think
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