Untamed Rogue, Scandalous Mistress. Bronwyn ScottЧитать онлайн книгу.
have trouser days just as we have habit days here at my school. Riding astride is a much safer way to learn the jumps,’ Aurora countered fiercely. She did not care to have her methods challenged or her secrets exposed. It was not public knowledge the girls rode in trousers on occasion, or astride. It was one of the reasons she banned unannounced outsiders from practices.
Petra moved past them with her horse, leaving them to sort out the details. Smart girl, Aurora thought. She’d like to leave too. Better yet, she’d like him to leave. Once the girl was out of earshot, Aurora delivered her next dictate. ‘She’s off limits. I will not have you behaving as you did with me in the road this afternoon. I don’t want to catch you with her, not walking with her, not talking with her. Nothing.’
The man had the audacity to laugh. ‘That might be a bit difficult. Petra Branscombe is my sister in-law.’
Aurora’s mind did the genealogical maths at rapid speed. ‘Then that makes you…’
‘The earl’s brother,’ he finished for her.
‘The Honourable Crispin Ramsden?’ Aurora said drily. It seemed the height of irony that this rough-around-the-edges, broad-shouldered man would bear such a title.
He seemed to think so too. ‘Technically speaking.’ A slow smile spread across his mouth, highlighting the lips that had kissed hers only hours ago.
Crispin raked her form with a gaze that seared as it travelled down every inch of her in deliberate contemplation. ‘I would have thought someone like you would be less tempted to judge, Miss Calhoun. It appears you have already catalogued and classified me. I wonder? Should I do the same to you?’ He chuckled at her overt reaction. ‘That’s what I thought. You don’t care to be pigeonholed any more than I do.’
He took a step towards her, his strong gaze holding hers with a teasing glint of challenge. ‘So, you think you know all about me after our brief acquaintance?’
He didn’t look honourable so much as rakishly unprincipled. Not even the moment he’d taken at some point to pull his long hair back with a leather thong into something more orderly could give him an added measure of respectability. Aurora made a special effort not to back up under the onslaught of his advance. ‘I’ve met men like you before, earl’s brother or not.’
He had a seductive smile for her alone as he leaned close to her ear and whispered, ‘I doubt it, Miss Calhoun. There are no other men like me.’
Four hours later, Aurora was ready to concede Crispin Ramsden might be right. She’d succeeded in getting him out of her stables, but not her mind. Aurora stretched her long legs out, feet resting on the fender of the fireplace absorbing the warmth of the flames in her converted apartments at the back of the stable. By rights, this was her favourite time of day. The horses were bedded down, their quiet snuffles keeping her company as she ate her dinner. But tonight, the usual peace the evening routine brought didn’t come.
She was restless. She’d made endless excuses to herself: it was the rain drumming on the roof that made her restive, it was because she had a new horse in the stables. But she’d been out to check on Sheikh twice now and the visits hadn’t alleviated her agitation. Neither the rain nor the horse was responsible for her current state. It was Crispin Ramsden that made her uneasy.
Perhaps it was nothing more than like recognising like. She’d certainly seen more than one set of horses test each other out before mating, nipping and biting. Their methods weren’t all that different than Crispin Ramsden’s. Aurora thought of Crispin’s kisses in the road and blushed, glad no one else was there to see her. There had been plenty of nipping and biting involved that afternoon.
Aurora bent forwards and stirred the fire, forcing her mind to focus on more pleasant issues. There were tomorrow’s lessons to plan. The rain would make the outdoor arena too muddy to be useful or safe. The Wednesday class would have to ride in the indoor arena. Eleanor, one of the girls in Petra’s class, had wanted to talk with her after the lesson today, but by the time she’d dealt with Crispin Ramsden Eleanor had left. She’d have to make a point to speak with Eleanor on Thursday when Petra’s class returned.
She knew what Eleanor wanted to talk about. The girl’s father, Gregory Windham, was a very wealthy gentleman who wanted a title for his daughter. He was dead set on seeing her married to an impoverished baron who led a dissipated life. Eleanor was frankly against the match, but Aurora could feel the girl weakening under her father’s pressure.
Eleanor wasn’t the only student with needs. Young Mrs Twilliger was new to the area after marrying an intimidating older man who clearly had her cowed. Catherine Sykes was worried to death over her impending London Season this spring, fearful she’d be a wallflower, and Lettie Osborne spent most of her days dreaming up ways to bring the new, single vicar up to scratch.
Whatever their needs were, the riding school was a place to start. Here, Aurora gave them a place in which they could discover their own power and build their confidence. If one could master a horse, one could master a man. That was Aurora’s philosophy. Perhaps a lucky few would do more than master a man. Perhaps a few would find a true partner for life if they had the confidence to do so.
It was the same principle with riding. She’d ridden two horses in her life that had been her partners. When she rode, she and the horse were equals. Nothing could compare with that. The other horses had been mounts to be mastered. She could get them to do what she wanted, but ultimately it hadn’t been about giving and taking with them, it had been about control.
Aurora understood the enormity of the task she’d set herself. Her girls came here to learn to ride, to learn the art of looking pretty in the saddle, their habits spread out behind them, the traditional teachings of young English womanhood firmly ingrained in their minds. Aurora wanted to change that for them, wanted to show them how to think on their own. On a horse there was no one to think for them; they had to rely solely on themselves. If they could do it on a horse, they could do it in other places in their lives.
She didn’t pretend her task was an easy one or an acceptable one by the standards of most people. It had been her experience that the local men wherever she’d been weren’t receptive to her lines of logic regarding male and female behaviour. On more than one occasion she’d been forced to leave a village once word got out that she was imparting more than horsemanship to the women she instructed. She wondered what Crispin Ramsden would make of that? Would he be a man who supported tradition or a man who could open his mind to the possibilities of equality between the sexes?
Crispin Ramsden. Again. Apparently she’d not been successful in directing her thoughts away from the earl’s brother. She gave herself a mental scolding. This was not the time to be considering any kind of flirtation. There were more important concerns. The St Albans steeplechase was coming up in March. She’d trained hard, her hunter, Kildare, was ready. Kildare was the best horse she’d ever ridden, better even than her beloved first stallion, Darby. If she could win, it would garner a great amount of prestige for her fledging stables, opening the gateway to good breeding opportunities.
There were difficulties to be worked out, not the least was how a woman was going to legally ride in a gentleman’s race. She could always hire a rider, but the thought of turning Kildare over to another rider filled her with trepidation. The other option was to risk all and ride in disguise. She’d done such a thing before, but only in small venues with very little at stake.
If she were caught, she’d be disqualified and made the fool. Her stables’ prestige would be sacrificed. But where would she find a rider that could work intimately with Kildare in the short time remaining? Rebellious images of Crispin Ramsden and his midnight stallion threatened the edges of her mind. Aurora rose from her chair and stretched. She’d do best to leave those contemplations for another day or she wouldn’t sleep at all. It was time for bed. Morning always came early at the stables.
Dinner came early in the country, but it was still half past seven before the Dursley clan was assembled at the long dining room table. As Crispin had expected, Tessa