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“The Sefton Ball. I had hoped I would be well enough and… I see that I am not, but I won’t have you missing it because I am sick in bed. Can you not go with Georgie and enjoy yourselves without a chaperone? After all, it is ludicrous that you two should have to miss it just because you don’t have a chaperone.”
“Never mind,” Star shook her head, “You know it would be frowned upon and Georgie’s mother is not up to the task. We shall stay here with you, play at cards and bother you to give us a lively time.” She had taken a place on the edge of his bed and bent forward to touch his arm, “Stop worrying yourself over it. There will be other balls.”
A breeze soft and warm wafted through his open window and she said, “Ah, isn’t that lovely—has all the scents of summer.”
He nodded absently and said, “But Star, what if…”
“You know, I think I will take my old Butch and rid
e over to visit with Georgie and her mother.” She cocked a brow at him and her dark eyes twinkled. “If you can spare me?”
“I am heartily sick of your ministrations. Off with you!” he rallied and once again was struck with how dear she was to him.
“You will miss me,” she countered on a laugh.
“I shall thank the heavens for a few moments to myself.”
“Then lad, so be it.”
“Yes, but Star, I may have a solution…”
“Later,” she answered and was off.
He watched her go and silently grumbled. He did not have a solution. He tried getting up and out of bed once more. He was able as he had before, to stand and take a tour of the room, but it swam before his eyes. He wasn’t right yet. Could he somehow just manage to get to the ball, find a chair and sit? He had to find a way to get his sister and Georgie to the ball—he simply had to.
* * *
It didn’t take long for Star to don an old but pretty pale green riding ensemble, plop a light straw chip bonnet on her waves of cornsilk hair and make her way to the stables. It was warm, but her clothes were lightweight and the breeze was lovely.
Jeffries helped her tack up her horse and a few moments later saw her taking a shortcut through the woods. It was a glorious summer day and the air, sweetly scented with honeysuckle and wild roses was seductive. Star’s imagination was always at work and she found herself daydreaming happily.
She loved riding and Butch was a reliable old chestnut gelding who knew exactly where they were going. She didn’t even have to guide him. He took the deer path through the woods with ease. She slowed as she approached an oval-shaped pond ornamented with rich ferns and wildflowers and smiled to herself.
Beautiful, it was all so beautiful, like something out of a painting. She watched a mother duck lead her ducklings into the pond when something, she didn’t know what, made her turn in her saddle.
Sir Edward astride a large and flashy Gray came toward her. Her heart began to flutter so wildly that she almost put a hand to her chest to keep it from taking flight.
She was intimidated and excited all at once. She was anxious and thrilled. She was…oh my, she was absolutely losing her mind, she told herself.
“Miss Berkley,” Sir Edward said as he approached, with an inclination of his handsome head. “Are you here…alone?”
She heard disapproval in his voice and sat up straight and defensively. His tone whipped her back into shape and she found the voice she had been certain was lost, was right back where it should be. “Hallo, Sir Edward, and yes…I am quite and thankfully alone.” She eyed him with a challenge, “After all…I am still on Berkley land.” She couldn’t help but notice that he looked dashing in his dark blue riding coat and pale breeches. His Hessians were brightly polished, his top hat slightly angled, and his steed was completely prime. As Star’s love of horses over-rode all else, she was able to look the animal over with great admiration and offered, “He…” she said with some show of surprise, “did not come from Jules’ stable.”
Edward laughed. “No, Prancer is my own. My staff arrived at Jules’ estate yesterday with my coach and Prancer in tow. The trip from Brighton was good for him, took off his edginess. I am afraid he doesn’t much care for London or Brighton. He likes the wide open.”
“Well, I am in sympathy with him on that score. He certainly is special. Do you hunt him?”
“With great pleasure.” Sir Edward smiled at her and his smile for some inexplicable reason brought the heat to her cheeks. “We hunt the North country—no easy sport there.”
“Meaning the South--here is easy?” she said, her chin up.
He laughed with genuine amusement. “Do not take affront, Miss Berkley. All I meant was that we have some rather interesting banks and walls to fly when on a chase, which…” he cocked his head at her in some show of superiority, “you don’t encounter in this area.”
“Perhaps not,” she conceded reluctantly. “But then, we have marsh, streams, and all manner of obstacles that you lack in the North. He was an arrogant specimen and needed some taking down, she thought. Why was he looking at her so keenly…and so thoroughly as though seeing her for the first time?
He cleared his throat and asked, “Do you ride anywhere in particular or are you just exercising your…” he looked at her animal with undisguised disdain, “…horse?”
Star took instant umbrage. She adored her Butch. Indeed, he wasn’t a showy horse and he was nearly fifteen years old, but he was dear and honest. Her free hand went to her hip. “Butch here takes me safely over my fences, even when I err. He hunts and manages to stay right with the hounds. He has served me willingly and lovingly for years and years and I shall thank you to respect that which counts as much as flash ever could.”
