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"Thank you, but Pegasus is unlikely to trail us like a docile pony," she said at last. "And I do prefer to ride."
"Yet I understand you intend to buy a carriage," Priscilla said.
"Surely not a high perch phaeton, as I've heard! Though challenging enough to show off a gentleman's skill, Francis tells me controlling one would take more strength than a lady could hope to possess."
Meaning, Helena thought, that if she chose a phaeton, she
must be both ill-bred and a show-off. But before she could master her irritation to frame some innocuous response, to her surprise, Adam pulled his hand from under Priscilla's and frowned at his fiancée.
"Though it would not, as a general rule, be advisable for a female to attempt driving one, a lady who possessed sufficient expertise should have no more trouble with a phaeton than she would handling a curricle or a gig—which, Miss Lambarth, I believe you once mentioned you used to tool about in quite competently."
Warmed by Adam's praise—and the flash of disapproval in Priscilla's eyes at Adam's defense of her— Helena said, "Yes, I drove often as a child. However,
302 THE UNTAMED HEIRESS
Miss Standish, I do intend to take instruction before I attempt a phaeton."
"So intrepid a rider as Miss Lambarth must be fretting herself to flinders, poking along as we are," Francis interjected. "What say you, Miss Lambarth? Shall we take the side trail up ahead and let the horses trot?"
As loath as Helena was to accept the escort of Francis Standish, even on horseback, she was hardly happier to be trapped here while Priscilla tossed little barbs at her—annoying Helena and disturbing Adam.
Before Helena could reply, Miss Standish said, "Miss Lambarth has already admitted Pegasus is not docile enough to be trotted now that the park is crowded, Francis. If she dare not tie him behind, 'tis wiser that you walk the horses and keep pace with
us."
Enough, Helena thought, her small store of patience exhausted. Crowd or no, she was confident she and Pegasus would be able to outride Francis Standish and circle back to find Mr. Dixon. To avoid looking at Adam, whose quelling gaze directed at Standish a few moments ago seemed to indicate Adam didn't consider the man a very trustworthy escort, she turned to Priscilla's cousin. "Yes, Mr. Standish, I should like to ride ahead,"
she replied, confident she would not suffer his company for long.
She ignored the leg up offered her by the smirking Francis, electing instead a groom's assistance. Anxious to get away, she vaulted into the saddle, Pegasus sidestepping and snorting as she shifted her weight against the pommel. She'd scarcely gathered the reins in hand when he reared up, neighing loudly, and exploded into a gallop.
CHAPTER 22
With Pegasus neighing and bucking as if possessed by demons, for the first few seconds Helena devoted all her attention to maintainmg her seat. Once sure of her balance, she leaned low over her mount, talking into his ear to try to soothe him while she used reins and heels to slow his flight.
She'd just managed to get him under control when she heard hoofbeats thundering behind her. Worried the approaching horse might cause Pegasus to panic again, she half-turned to wave the rider off—and saw it was Mr. Dixon.
"We're all right!" she called. "Keep your distance."
He slowed his mount to close the gap between them at a more
gradual pace. "Are you injured?" he demanded.
"No, I'm quite unharmed."
"Thank heavens! Did Pegasus graze a branch when he bolted past that last tree? He's bleeding."
"I don't think so," Helena said, concerned. As soon as her horse, blowing and sidling, slowed to a walk, Helena jumped down. "Where?"
"There;—" Mr. Dixon gestured, dismounting and 305
coming to take her reins "—at the corner of the saddle blanket."
Still murmuring to the horse, Helena gently ran a hand up under the blanket, then gasped as she pricked a finger.
"Hold him still!" she commanded. Working the edge of the blanket free, she pulled it up to reveal the wound—and the large, wicked-looking thorn at its center.
After lipping the ruffle from her cuff, carefully she pulled the thorn free, wiped the blood from her horse's flank and wedged the linen strip back under the blanket against the still-oozing wound.
She turned to see Dixon frowning. "No wonder the animal bolted. I don't recall riding through any briar patches on our way here, so someone must have inserted that thorn intentionally. As pranks go, I don't find it very funny."
Helena heard more hoofbeats approaching and looked up.
Only then did she notice that on the crowded carriage path a hundred yards away, all traffic had halted. Ladies and gentlemen leaned from their carriages, staring and gesturing, while several riders had set off across the field toward them. To her shock, she realized that the rider now closest to them was Adam, apparently on a borrowed mount.
"I see we've provided quite a spectacle," she said dryly.
"Though not as amusing as it might have been had Pegasus managed to unseat me."
"Amusing?" Dixon retorted. "You might have been killed! If I ever get my hands on—"
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Just then Adam reached them, reining in his horse and leaping down from the saddle. "Please, say nothing!" Helena said to Dixon in an urgent undertone. "Let me handle this in my own way."
He had only time to give her a reluctant nod before Adam ran over and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Are you all right?" he demanded urgently, fear and anger in his voice as he looked her up and down. "The devil take that horse! If I had a pistol, I'd shoot him where he stands."
"I'm unharmed, so you mustn't malign poor Pegasus. But I don't wish to ride him home." And compound the injury the animal had already suffered, she added silently.
"I should think not! A groom will see to him. Come back in the carriage with us. Miss Standish will be relieved to see that you've sustained no injury."
/'// just bet she will, Helena thought, resolved to walk rather than share a carriage with Adam and Priscilla. "Can I prevail upon you to lead Pegasus home, Mr. Dixon?" she asked. "You will know what to tell Johnson when you get him to the stables."
"I will indeed, Miss Lambarth," Dixon said grimly.
Several other riders reached them then, exclaiming and offering assistance. After declining them all with thanks, Helena felt a guilty pleasure at allowing an insistent Adam to take her arm while Mr. Dixon followed with the horses.
Far too soon, they reached the carriage and Adam let her go.
"Miss Lambarth, are you unhurt?" Miss Standish cried. "Adam, help her in! She has had such a fright! I was near to fainting myself, just watching."
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Anger flamed in Helena that someone had callously injured her horse in an attempt to embarrass her— perhaps this girl. But though Helena now suspected the invitation to the park had been offered in the hope of putting her riding skills to the blush, unless Miss Standish were a better actress than Helena could imagine, the girl's pale face and trembling hps argued that she had no role in arranging this part of the adventure.
Helena had a sudden memory of Francis Standish leaning over to pat Pegasus. He had been close enough to insert the thorn, which would then have rested harmlessly beneath the saddle blanket until she'd remounted, driving it into Pegasus's tender side.
Francis Standish, who was nowhere to be seen. Was this how he'd decided to repay her for rebuffing his insolent advances the
other night? Though she couldn't prove he was responsible, neither could she imagine any other way a thorn could have gotten where it had. She would have to think carefully about a suitable retribution.
"I am fine," she assured Priscilla. "Nor would I wish to soil your gown, riding wi th you in all my dirt. Mr. Dixon, would you summon me a hackney?"
"Yes, and follow you home."
To her surprise—and delight—with his fiancée and the interested crowd still looking on, Adam reclaimed her arm. "I shall escort Miss Lambarth to the hackney and return in a moment, Priscilla."
"Really, Adam, I'm sure Mr. Dixon can—"
"Miss Lambarth is my responsibility," Adam said curtly, cutting her off.
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Color rose in Miss Standish's cheeks. "You might see to your cravat before you return, then," she said stiffly. "You're looking most untidy."
As Adam tucked her hand firmly under his arm, Helena savored his solicitude as much as his touch. After she'd said her good-byes, he led her away.
Once they had distanced themselves from the crowd, however, he grasped her hand to stop her. "Are you sure you're all right?
There's blood on your cuff."
"It isn't mine."
"You're certain?" When she nodded, he exhaled an explosive breath. "Praise Heaven! But what a fright you gave me! I thought you were going to..." He swallowed hard.
"But I didn't," she said softly, loving the feel of her fingers entwined with his and compelled by the tingling force between them to look up. into his eyes.
Gazing back just as intently, Adam lifted his free hand to her face, as if to stroke her cheek. Even as her eyes drifted shut, anticipating his touch, he stopped, clenched his fingers into a fist and thrust his arm back at his side. With a small sigh, he urged her forward.
