The Wedding Trap (17 page)

Somehow Eliza kept her seat, but without the reins she could do nothing to control the mare. Terrified, the horse came down onto all fours and shot forward into a gallop. Relying on instinct, Eliza leaned low and dug her fingers into the mare’s thick mane, hanging on for dear life as she prayed she didn’t crash to the ground. In her ears came the thunder of her beating heart, a sound so loud she could hear nothing else. Across the greens the horse raced, veering wildly around trees and groups of startled people. The lost reins dangled like writhing serpents, frightening Andromeda even more, keeping her running when she might otherwise have stopped.

The scent of fear and horse sweat was sharp in Eliza’s nose as she clung with all her might, her own perspiration dampening her hands, turning them perilously slick. But she dared not shift so much as an inch, or she risked toppling off.

Suddenly a male arm came into her line of vision, reaching out to take hold of the bridle. From the corner of her eye she could see a polished Hessian boot in its stirrup and the flashing of his mount’s hooves pounding into the turf next to her horse.

Kit,
she thought in relief,
Kit has come to save me.

With a soothing, deep-throated command, he slowed the horses, urging Andromeda to break stride and slow. Moments later, the horses came to a walk then finally a complete and blessed stop.

Eliza began to tremble, full-body shakes she could not seem to control. She heard Kit dismount, sensed him hurry around to her side. And then she was in his arms as he set her carefully upon her feet.

Only, the man who held her wasn’t Kit.

Her eyes widened as she gazed upward, way upward, into the face of male perfection—the blond, blue-eyed stranger quite possibly the most handsome man she had ever seen, as if Adonis himself had been brought to life.

She gasped, then gasped again—dizzy—as he showered her with the radiance of his smile.

Chapter Ten

Kit heard the shout and looked behind him to see the carriage barreling recklessly along the lane toward him and Eliza, people and animals and vehicles jostling in a frantic scramble to get out of the way.

Damned jingle-brained fool,
Kit cursed, catching a glimpse of the driver’s boyish face.
Must be doing it on a dare,
he concluded in an instant, recognizing the unmistakable signs of a foolish young man egged on by his idiot friends—none of them considering the consequences or the fact that someone was bound to get hurt.

Then he forgot all about such thoughts as Eliza’s mare spooked and did a fretful sideways dance across to the opposite side of the path. The carriage streaked between them, wheels rumbling, his view of Eliza obscured. The crack of a whip split the air, followed by Andromeda’s scream as the animal reared. Kit watched in horror, time momentarily slowing, as the mare thrashed her head and yanked the reins from Eliza’s grip. Then the horse was off, racing at a full gallop as Eliza clung to her mount’s back.

A fist of terror punched into his stomach. Seconds later, he set Mars into motion, pushing the horse for speed. But try as his loyal steed might, the gelding’s way was blocked by the chaos left in the wake of the boy’s crazed stunt. Women were crying, men shouting, riders and drivers fighting to calm their own frightened animals.

Finally he broke free and set off after Eliza.
Please God, don’t let her fall,
he thought.
Don’t let her be injured, or worse.

He caught sight of her and pushed Mars harder to catch up. Across the grounds he charged, intent upon reaching her and bringing her to safety. But it seemed another man had the same idea, a horse and rider appearing ahead, his mount’s hooves churning up chunks of grass and mud as he pounded after Eliza’s wayward mare. At full charge, the man drew abreast of them. In a display of impressive equestrian skill, he shifted sideways and grasped Andromeda’s bridle, bringing the frightened horse to a stop.

Even from a distance, Kit could see how badly Eliza was shaking, her tremors a clear indication of her own fearful reaction to the wild ride.

The man dismounted and sprinted to Eliza’s side, lifting her out of the saddle and onto solid ground. He kept his arms secure around her as she swayed and blinked upward as if in a daze.

Only then did Kit recognize the other man—Lord Lancelot Brevard—tall, blond and heroic as the fabled knight whose name he bore. It had been a frequent jest among the fellows at Oxford that Brevard ought to have been born the son of a baronet instead of a viscount, despite the lesser status, so he could have been known as Sir Lancelot in name as well as deed.

In Kit’s first term at Oxford, Brevard had been in his last, already a legend among his peers and professors. An affirmed leader, Brevard took first in everything he did whether it be academic or athletic, his record a mile-long litany of awards and honors and accolades. He led a charmed life of perfection, or as near perfection as any human man could achieve. Brevard was one of those rare people who it seemed could do no wrong, and who did no wrong, as honorable as he was talented, as compassionate as he was competitive.

Brevard had personally proven the fact that spring term when Kit—eager to test his own worth and valor—challenged the older man to a swim race. A strong swimmer and confident of his abilities, Kit had arrived full of arrogant bravado and swagger, boasting he would prevail. In the end, his unfamiliarity with the river’s cold, swift current and his opponent’s unflagging stamina had been his undoing. He’d put in a formidable effort and nearly won, but “nearly” hadn’t been good enough.

Instead of listening to his body’s warnings as he ought, Kit had challenged Brevard to another race, which Brevard clearly had not wanted. But with honor at stake, they agreed. Strength flagging, Kit had pushed on long past his endurance and nearly drowned as a result of his stubborn, idiotic pride. It was Brevard who had saved his life. Brevard who afterward had refused to mock him as others in his position would surely have done, instead taking Kit under his wing and turning his young, would-be rival into a friend.

And that was the diabolical magic of Lancelot Brevard. No matter how much a fellow might wish to despise him, it simply could not be done. Man or woman, dog or cat, bird or beetle—everyone and everything liked Brevard.

And now, wouldn’t you know, the bloody great hero has raced to the rescue and saved Eliza.
Of course, Kit was glad she had come to no harm. Even so, a part of him didn’t understand why Brevard couldn’t have come on the scene just a minute or two later and let Kit do the rescuing. After all, Eliza was in
his
charge—
his
student and
his
responsibility.

Kit drew his gelding to a halt, vaulted to the ground. “Eliza, are you all right?” He hurried toward her.

She didn’t turn her head, continuing to stare up at Brevard with a peculiar expression upon her face, her gray eyes slightly glazed.

Is she in shock?

After her experience, Kit wouldn’t be surprised. He touched her arm. “Eliza, it’s me, Kit. Are you all right? Are you injured? Say something, please.”

Her lashes fluttered. “Kit?” Only then did she glance at him. “Kit. Oh, you are here.”

“Yes, I’m here. Everything will be fine. You’ve taken quite a turn but you’re safe now.” He flicked a glance at the other man. “Hello, Brevard. Quite a save. My thanks as well as the lady’s.”

“Winter, well met. I expected we would tap elbows here in Town but not under such unusual circumstances. You are acquainted with the lady, I take it?”

“Eliza is a friend of the duchess and is staying with us at Raeburn House for the Season. She and I were enjoying the afternoon promenade when some young chucklehead decided to race his carriage up Rotten Row. Did you catch sight of the fuss?”

Brevard shook his head. “I was too far off but I heard it, screams and shouts enough to wake the dead. And then this lady suddenly appeared, her horse obviously out of control—so, of course, I had to help.”

Oh, of course,
Kit thought.

Brevard returned his gaze to Eliza, a smile playing at his lips. “Be so good as to introduce us, would you, Winter?”

Kit caught the gleam in Brevard’s eyes. Was that interest he saw, male interest for an attractive female? For Eliza? Kit’s chest tightened, and for the merest instant he wanted to refuse the request.

Then he brushed the impulse aside, puzzled by his unusual reaction. “Brevard, allow me make you known to Miss Eliza Hammond. Eliza, Viscount Lancelot Brevard.”

“A pleasure, my lord,” Eliza murmured, “and thank you. Once I lost hold of Andromeda’s reins I didn’t know how I would ever convince her to stop. If not for you, well, I would surely have come to harm.”

No, you wouldn’t,
Kit mused in irritation.
If not for him, I would have saved you. It just would have taken me a minute longer.

Brevard waved aside her exhortations of gratitude. “Pray do not distress yourself, Miss Hammond. No thanks are necessary. I am only relieved I saw you when I did and was able to lend my assistance. And may I say I thought you exceptionally brave—”

“Oh, I was not,” Eliza denied.

“But you were. Many ladies would have tumbled off straightaway and done themselves a great injury. You had the presence of mind to keep your seat and your wits about you in spite of the danger. You are to be commended for your resourcefulness, a refreshing and admirable trait to be found in any woman.”

Attractive color dusted Eliza’s cheeks, replacing her fear-induced pallor. “You are most kind, my lord, but truly I was terrified the whole time and am not at all deserving of praise.”

Brevard shook his head. “You are far too modest and far too lovely. And though I perhaps ought not say this, I confess I cannot be completely sorry your horse decided to bolt.”

Eliza’s brows scrunched. “Whyever not?”

“Because then I would not have had the delight of meeting you.”

Eliza giggled.

Actually
giggled,
like some ingenue fresh out of the schoolroom.

Kit restrained the urge to snort and instead reached out and took her arm. “You must be exhausted after your ordeal. We really ought to get you home now so you can rest.”

Eliza turned toward him as if she only then remembered his presence. “Yes, I suppose, though oddly enough I am feeling rather better now.” She stuck out her free hand. “See, no more shaking.”

“Brave. Just as I said.” Brevard showered her with a wide smile, then he winked.

Eliza giggled again.

“Andromeda seems calm now, so it should be safe for you to ride her again,” Kit declared, gently steering Eliza toward the mare. The horse, along with the other two geldings, had her head lowered, leisurely grazing on park grass.

Eliza hesitated, her step reluctant. “Kit, I don’t know if I…feel safe riding again so soon.”

“No point in delaying. It’s best if you get back on now so you don’t lose your rider’s confidence. Otherwise you may never have the nerve to climb back in the saddle again at all.”

Eliza dug one hand into the heavy skirt of her riding habit. “I’ll feel perfectly safe on Cassiopeia once she is recovered. I just don’t want to ride anymore today.”

“I can have my man send round for a carriage,” Brevard offered. “It won’t take above five minutes.”

For Eliza’s own good, Kit knew she needed to conquer her fear and conquer it now. So why did he suddenly feel like the worst sort of bully? “Thank you, Brevard, but Eliza will be fine. It is but a short ride home.”

Reaching for Andromeda’s reins, he brought them around and coiled them against the horse’s neck. He moved to take up a position at the mare’s side, then bent down and linked his palms together so he could boost Eliza into the saddle.

She visibly trembled, a long moment passing before she set a hand upon his shoulder and slipped one foot into his waiting palms. He had her up and in the saddle in an instant, moving to arrange the reins firmly inside her grasp.

“There, how do you feel? All right?”

For the first time he could ever recall, she refused to look him in the eye. “Fine,” she said, her voice barely audible.

A bony finger of guilt jabbed Kit in the chest. “I’ll be right with you and we’ll go at a slow, easy walk.”

She did not look reassured, particularly when a faint shiver rippled just beneath Andromeda’s glossy coat.

“Why don’t I accompany the two of you home?” Brevard suggested in a bolstering tone. “I’ll ride on your left, Miss Hammond. Winter can ride on your right, and you’ll be tucked snug as a bug in the middle.”

Eliza gave Brevard a tiny smile. “That sounds lovely, my lord, but I would not want to inconvenience you in any way.”

“Oh, it’s no inconvenience at all. What do you say, Winter?”

The word
no
came straight to his lips, though for the life of him he couldn’t understand why he was feeling so peevish and perverse. Brevard’s plan seemed a sound one, a method well suited to offering Eliza reassurance so she could ride home without fear of further calamity. Yet even knowing that, he still wished to refuse Brevard. He wondered why.