Page 17 of Her Summer Duke

“Lady Margaret, there’s a turn! That sharp curve by the bend of the river, not far from the bridge. Hang on tight, for I don’t think that I can get her to slow down!”

Margaret clutched the bench even tighter than she had been doing before, and added her calls to Lucy’s.

“Whoa! There’s a good girl, steady down, whoa!”

She was now quite certain that she should not have paid any heed to the Duke’s request that she meet him secretly. This time, she agreed with Lucy – she had made a terrible mistake.

The horse paid no heed to their pleading or commanding voices, she galloped on down the lane, with the gig tipping left and right behind her on its two thin red wheels, the tight corner getting ever closer.

Margaret and Lucy held on so tightly that their bare knuckles were white.

In their hurry they had forgotten gloves, and now Lucy’s hands were chafed and sore from trying to hold the mare back, the reins beginning to slip in her fingers. Lucy began to sob softly.

“We are going to tip over and die!”

“Nonsense! Enough of such talk. Just keep trying to slow her. I am sure that she will settle soon. She has always seemed so calm when I have seen Cook driving her!”

Lucy was the first to see the River Avon and the bridge ahead of them off to one side, just visible past the hedges that lined the sharp curve that came before the bridge was reached. The mare seemed unaware of the turn approaching, her pace slowing a little, but still frenzied as a result of the imaginary dog still on her heels. She did not slow enough, no matter what Lucy did. Lucy began to scream. Margaret gasped.

“At this rate, we will end up thrown into the very spiky hedge, or the water! Oh brace yourself, Lucy.” No sooner had she screamed out the warning than she saw a horse approaching at a gallop.

The rider on the approaching horse was shouting out commands, although Margaret and Lucy could barely hear him, in their panicked state.

“Hold on! Hold on! I am coming!” Within moments the rider had pulled alongside and had grabbed the mare’s rein, close up to the bit, and begun to slow her down, forcibly, using his own horse’s weight to help him resist the mare’s panicked pull. They barely made it around the turn, with the gig rocking wildly, but the mare began to heed the man beside her, his words finally penetrating her panic shrouded mind. “Whoa, whoa there. There you go girl. Good girl. Whoa.”

The gig came to a stop, just short of the bridge. The wild rocking was over, the horse now standing, her usual calm self, just breathing hard, as if nothing untoward had happened. Lucy dropped the reins from her aching fingers, and clutched at Margaret, who discovered that she was shaking.

The rider immediately dismounted and came to help them down.

It was Saltonbury. He extended his hand to Lucy, who was closest to that side, and once she was safely standing on the ground, he turned back to assist Margaret.

“So, I have saved you from an untimely death once again, my dear Lady Margaret.”

Margaret discovered that her legs did not seem inclined to hold her. He caught her as she wobbled, and pulled her into his arms. She laid her head against his chest and put her arms tightly around his body.

“The whole ordeal was simply terrifying! We thought that we were going to die. We had no way to stop the horse, for a dog had frightened her, she was panicked, and the river was fast approaching and, oh Hugh! Thank heavens you were here!”

Saltonbury had allowed his cheek to rest on Margaret’s hair, revealed where the bonnet had been blown aside, to leave it hanging on her back, saved only by the ribbons about her chin. It was as if he savoured the scent of her, directly under his nose, and the warmth of her body crushed against his. Perhaps he did. Perhaps he truly enjoyed holding her. Had she made the wrong decision? Did he truly love her, with passion?

Now she was more confused than ever.

Lucy was crying softly, repeating the same words over and over.

“I am a lady’s maid, I am not a groom. A lady’s maid, this and nothing more.”

When Margaret had stopped shaking, and she was reasonably sure that her legs would hold her, she released her hold on the Duke, went to Lucy, and patted her back reassuringly.

“This was not your fault, Lucy. All is well now. Do not fret another moment. I am not angry with you.”

“But I am angry with myself. I knew that I could not drive a gig, not after ten years. Why did I even pretend? It is a wonder that I even managed to harness the mare up correctly. We both could have been killed.”

“We were not. Besides, I urged you to drive it, so if it is anyone’s fault it is mine. Now hush. I have things I need to discuss with Saltonbury.” She tilted her head to look at the Duke, who was standing very close behind her. “I may have had a change of heart as a result of this ordeal.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, have you now?”

“Well, I did not say that I have, I said I that I may have.”