Page 42 of Counting on Love

Chapter Twelve

Georgiana always enjoyed the excitement of a hunt, even though she tended to bring up the rear. She had a good seat but not a very good one and, frankly, did not show to best advantage on a horse. Particularly not compared to Olivia.

Their party was supposed to have been increased by the addition of three local men but at breakfast, a message arrived from Mr. Leighton, the curate, with his regrets. Lord Taverston said the Willowsetts would meet them at the stable. The twin sons of a well-to-do squire in the neighboring village, they were frequent visitors to Chaumbers.

Lord Taverston was his usual well-mannered self at breakfast, but Georgiana thought he looked tired.

He had joined them late for tea the previous afternoon and had been out of sorts. She wondered if his correspondence had been troubling, but it was not a question she could ask. Besides, how troubling could correspondence be compared to what he faced here? After tea, he had gone to spend time with his father. His brothers also took their leave. Mr. Taverston had to do some “work,” whatever that meant, and Lieutenant Taverston went to the stables to be sure his hunter—which had taken a stone in his hoof and was being seen to by the grooms—would be sound for the chase. So they said. But the two had set off with an eagerness that didn’t seem appropriate to the tasks. Olivia grumbled that they were up to something, and the ladies retired to Lady Iversley’s sitting room where the girls recounted the doings of the day.

Later, at dinner, Lord Taverston had been polite but distracted. That was reasonable as he had come directly from his father’s sick room. Georgiana was once again seated beside him; however, this time her mother was on her left, so Georgiana found herself making more effort to be engaging. Even so, he seemed less engaged. It was quite dispiriting. If this was courtship, what would marriage be like?

She was glad to find him in better spirits this morning.

They all went down to the stables. Georgiana wore her prettiest riding habit, a dark blue velvet with a very smart matching hat. Lord Taverston paid her the requisite compliments.

The horses led out by the grooms were fresh ones, gorgeous creatures. Lord Taverston helped Georgiana to mount, then signaled to the groom to bring his own hunter. She happened to be nearby Lieutenant Taverston who chuckled and muttered, “Bloody hell.”

She soon saw what he was laughing at. Lord Taverston’s horse was a magnificent chestnut, but upon its back was a dirty, battered saddle that should long ago have been tossed into a bin. To her shock, he swung his leg over as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Lud!” Olivia shrieked. “What is that?”

Lord Taverston smiled. “This? I stumbled upon it where it shouldn’t have been and thought it would suit much better on Skylark than where it was.” He raised his chin. “Are we done now, boys?”

Lieutenant Taverston laughed out loud. Mr. Taverston coughed and said, “Here are Jeffrey and Jeremy.” He doffed his hat and waved it.

Hardly a satisfactory explanation; nevertheless, all attention turned to the newcomers, two pleasant-looking young men, identical in appearance except for the color of their jackets. Jeffrey wore red, Jeremy blue. They were sandy-haired, apple-cheeked, and dressed like dandies. They rode sturdy horses, thankfully not matched. Georgiana had met identical twins before, but none quite so identical.

And they were young. Sixteen? Seventeen? They greeted the Taverston brothers, were introduced to the Taverstons’ guests, and then attached themselves to Olivia with jostling devotion. Olivia treated them as the chums they had likely been, without encouraging any hopes it would be ridiculous of them to have. Their infatuation would have been embarrassing if there had only been one of them. With two, it was comical.

The houndsman brought out the dogs and then they were off.

Lieutenant Taverston and Olivia shot out in front, the Willowsetts in frantic pursuit. Mr. Taverston rode alongside Alice, urging her on. Lord Taverston, bringing up the rear with Georgiana, had a strained look on his face that she could only interpret as frustration with her pace. “Go on,” she laughed. “I am accustomed to straggling. I don’t mind.”

“I daren’t with this saddle,” he grumbled, then quickly amended, “I much prefer riding with you to racing my siblings.”

“What a fudge!” she teased.

His rueful smile was one of his better ones. “We can overtake them. They are going the long route in order to jump the hedge. Olivia feels it doesn’t count as a hunt unless she can jump at least once. The hedge doesn’t extend this far so if we keep straight, then bear right, we should meet up with them on the opposite side. Does Miss Fogbotham jump?”

“How high is the hedge?”

“Two or three feet, but no matter. Reg will ascertain which way to bring her. Or, if she wishes, he’ll lift her over and then jump the horse.”

“You’ve thought of everything.”

“If we don’t, Mother does.” Then he grinned at her. “I can go a little faster.”

“Oh, well, yes, so can I.”

So they picked up their pace and rode to the rendezvous at a loping run that provided less chance for talk. That was fine with Georgiana. They soon came to the hedge and went a short distance alongside it before Lord Taverston drew rein.

“Can you hear them? They’ll come up over that ridge, then take the hedge. The ground is fairly level on either side, but the approach is quick.”

She did hear a cacophony of loud happy shouting and hounds baying.

He said, “We can await them all here. Who do you think will be over the hedge first? Olivia or Crispin?”

Georgiana answered, “Jeremy. Or maybe Jeffrey?”