“Including target practice at Egg’s workshop?” said Grentham, a note of challenge shading his voice.
“I haven’t decided yet,” she said coolly, in answer to his implied question.Which, of course, isn’t true.The current conversation had only made her more certain of her decision.
Grentham rose without further comment and took his leave.
Saybrook followed, but paused for an instant in the doorway.
“Whatever you have planned, be careful,” he murmured before disappearing into the shadows.
Expelling a huff of frustration,Arianna returned to her carriage. She had just been informed that Sophia had gone for a morning ride in Hyde Park, and given the glorious autumn weather and her friend’s fondness for horses, she was likely to be gone for some time.
Frowning in thought, Arianna paused as her coachman climbed down to open the door. The Stanhope Gate was close by, and a footpath led through the meadow down to Rotten Row, a favorite spot for equestrians to gallop their mounts before the daily promenade of the beau monde began in the late afternoon.
“Miguel, please drive the carriage home. I am going to take a stroll and see if I might meet up with Miss Kirtland in the park,” announced Arianna. She waited for her maid to join her. Propriety demanded that she not walk alone—a rule that chafed, but this was not a time to break it.
They set off at a brisk pace and soon were winding their way through the glade of trees close to the Serpentine. The leaves were beginning to take on their autumn hues, and as a breeze ruffled through the overhanging branches, a flutter of colors danced over the graveled path. From nearby rose the thud of hooves pounding over the soft turf.
Quickening her steps, Arianna rounded a cluster of bushes and stopped on the verge of the bridle path. A pair of riders were charging toward her, their lathered mounts running neck and neck. She recognized Sophia from her emerald green riding habit. Her friend was bent low on her sidesaddle, urging her horse to keep up with a well-muscled chestnut stallion ridden by a military officer.
The two horses thundered past her, and as Arianna turned, she saw Sophia pull up and slow her mount to a trot.
“Halloo,” called her friend, giving a quick wave as she circled back to where Arianna was standing.
“Lud, that was fun!” Sophia’s face was flushed and her eyes sparkled in exhilaration.
“Fun?” repeated Arianna, then added a grimace. She had spent her youth around ships and was not comfortable in the saddle. “You’re mad.”
Sophia laughed. “One lady’s pleasure is another’s poison.” She tucked a wind-loosened curl of hair behind her ear. “What a pity you didn’t arrive a few minutes earlier. You just missed Captain Leete, who is here from Paris for a series of meetings with the generals at Horse Guards.” Leete, an army acquaintance of Saybrook, had participated in several of their recent clandestine missions on the Continent and had proved his mettle as both a skilled soldier and a trustworthy friend.
“Alas, he leaves first thing in the morning.”
Before Arianna could answer, Sophia’s companion cantered back to join them. He was wearing the uniform of the Royal Horse Guards—the Blues—one of the elite mounted regiments of the British Army.
“Leete was right! You’re a bruising rider, Miss Kirtland,” he said admiringly.
“Wellington wished that he could have offered her a commission in one of his cavalry regiments,” said Arianna.
“Indeed?”
Sophia’s flush appeared to deepen. “H-He was jesting.”
“He wasnot,” she countered.
“Arianna, allow me to present Major Prescott,” said her friend quickly. She appeared a little flustered as she went through the ritual of formal introductions.
The major, Arianna observed, was extremely handsome, with a chiseled jaw and high cheekbones that accentuated his sea-green eyes. From beneath his plumed shako peeked wheaten curls tangled in disarray, adding a glint of boyish charm to his smile. She imagined that he was a great favorite with the ladies.
And knew it.
But there was, she conceded, no sign of puffed-up hubris in Prescott’s manner as they exchanged the requisite pleasantries.
“Our paths crossed in Paris,” he answered in response to Sophia’s query as to how he knew Leete. “I served as a liaison officer with the Dutch forces after Bonaparte escaped from Elba. And after Waterloo, I was assigned to accompany the Russians and coordinate communications with Wellington as they advanced through France.”
“You must be very skilled at diplomacy,” commented Arianna. Serving as a liaison officer with foreign allies required both tact and a keen understanding of his own country’s objectives.
Prescott gave a self-deprecating smile. “I’m useful because I speak a number of foreign languages fluently, including Russian and German.”
“Russian?” said Sophia, catching Arianna’s eye. “How unusual.”
