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Chapter 3
A week later, Olivia woke up to half-light peeping through cracks in the curtains. She blinked, slowly opening her eyes. What time was it and where was she?
Then it all rushed back into her mind. She was in London with Emma, her mother and grandfather. It had been three days of activity. Visits to three modistes for fittings for gowns. In between, they had managed to fit in visits to millinery shops as well.
Last night, her grandfather had escorted Emma and herself to Covent Garden. Mama had not wanted to come, saying it was a special treat for the girls. They had watchedPygmalion. Olivia had felt like a little girl again, for her grandfather always took her to the ballet. It was something they did together. And having her best friend along as well had been the icing on the cake.
Olivia sighed, stretching luxuriously in the bed. Another long day was ahead, crammed with fittings and engagements and Lord knew what else. As much as she enjoyed it, it was a little tiring and she missed going for a ride on Pem. She missed having that time alone with her own thoughts, the wind against her face, just her and the horse.
Abruptly, she sat up in the bed, her heart racing. Pem was back in Kent, but they had stables here. She could always sneak down and saddle a horse and take a very early morning ride through Hyde Park. She knew a secluded path where none of the ton usually rode. She could be back before anyone was the wiser.
And she had brought the boy’s clothes she always wore riding with her to London.
Her heart was really racing now. Did she dare do it? London was not the green hills of Kent. There could be other riders out this early. But they would never know who she was, would they? All they would see was a boy riding through the park. Not a big deal at all.
She knew what Emma would say. Her best friend would scold her, telling her that she was taking a big risk. But suddenly, Olivia did not care.
She wanted to go riding. And so, riding she would go.
***
To her relief, the wide paths were empty as she cantered through Hyde Park in the burgeoning light. The sun had risen but it still was not full daylight. There was a very fine mist and dew was still glistening on the leaves of the trees. Olivia took a deep breath, spurring the horse faster, until she was galloping down the path, leaning low.
It felt marvellous. More than marvellous. But as she rounded a corner, the mist became thicker, obscuring her vision. She did not see the rider approaching from the opposite direction until it was too late, and they had almost collided.
Her horse reared up, neighing in distress. As Olivia attempted to control it, the other rider cursed loudly, clearly having a battle of his own controlling his own beast. It took Olivia a minute before the horse settled down. She was panting with exertion by the time she looked at the other rider again.
“What the deuce is wrong with you?” said the man in a pained tone. “Who gallops around a misty corner like that?”
Olivia tried to catch her breath but was stung by his rude tone. She did not think that anyone had ever spoken to her like that in her life before. She was just about to reply with a rude retort of her own when her eyes focused upon him fully for the first time.
The rider was a young man, probably in his mid to late twenties. And he was powerfully built. She could see the muscles of his arms rippling beneath his thin white shirt, which was unbuttoned to his chest. There was a patch of dark hair poking above it. His jawline was strong and his face distinctive, with a longish nose and dark stubble over his chin.
But the most arresting thing about him was his eyes. They were slightly hooded and the most intense blue she had ever beheld. As blue as an azure sea on a summer’s day. His dark hair was short cropped. There was a restless aura surrounding him as he pulled on the reins of the horse, calming it down.
He was simply the handsomest man she had ever seen in her life.
He cursed again, louder this time, fixing her with a malevolent look. But then, his face changed. His mouth dropped open in an almost comical fashion as he stared at her.
“What?” said Olivia, in a faltering voice. “What is it?”
“Your hair,” he said slowly, his mouth twitching with amusement. “Your cap has fallen off.”
Olivia stiffened. Her right hand flew to her head. It was all too late. The boy’s cap she was wearing must have dislodged as she tried to control the horse. And her hair was streaming down her back.
The man laughed in delight. “You are no lad,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “In fact, you are a very pretty lady indeed. Why are you wearing boy’s clothes?”
Olivia was mortified. Quickly, she dismounted the horse, snatching the cap off the ground.
“That is none of your business, sir,” she said, her heart thumping hard. “And you should keep your cursing to yourself. It is impolite.”
But he did not apologise or look embarrassed by her censure. In fact, he just laughed harder, throwing back his head in mirth. Olivia’s face reddened. She stared at him furiously for a moment, before mounting the horse, stuffing her hair back under the cap.
“Whoareyou?” he asked, scratching his chin, his blue eyes shining. “What is your name?”
Olivia glared at him. “That is none of your business, either,” she said tartly. “I apologise for what happened, but now I must go, sir.”
She turned the horse around, about to head back the way she came, when he spoke again. She glanced back at him.
