Sir Charles instructed his groom to stand away from the horses. “I will not need you further. You may meet me back at the hotel,” he told the servant.
Sir Charles tooled the carriage away from the curb and down the street. Evelyn turned a brilliant smile on her companion. “I have so been looking forward to this lesson. Sir Charles. You cannot conceive how much! Your awe-inspiring example during the race has persuaded me that nothing will do but to acquire a similar mastery of the reins.”
Sir Charles appeared momentarily startled. Then his expression smoothed to its usual urbanity. “Of course, Miss Dower. Your driving lesson. I am always happy to be of service to a beautiful young lady,” he drawled. “Pray watch me carefully while I attempt to explain the intricacies of technique in driving a four-in-hand.”
Evelyn professed herself quite willing to do so and folded her hands in her lap. She was delighted when Sir Charles directed the phaeton out of the congested town into the country.
For the next hour, Sir Charles tooled the phaeton sedately over the gentle rises and drops of the tree-shadowed lanes. He explained in great detail each flick of the reins or whip, intermingling among his strictures compliments to Evelyn and poetic accolades on the passing countryside.
Evelyn enjoyed herself hugely. When Sir Charles remarked that it was time that they should consider returning to town and turned the phaeton, she began to wonder when he was going to allow her to actually take the reins. She paid less heed to his smooth flirtation as the conviction slowly grew on her that Sir Charles was endeavoring to divert her attention from her previously stated hope of driving his team.
As the minutes passed, Evelyn threw him a few keen glances. Finally she decided to put her suspicion to the test.
“Sir Charles, I am truly grateful for the patient explanations that you have offered me. I assure you, I have listened carefully to every word. I am quite ready to take the reins for a short interval.”
“Er—take the reins?” Sir Charles looked unhappy, obviously reluctant to allow her to take control of his team.
“Why, certainly,” said Evelyn, as though in surprise. “That is an essential part of driving, is it not?”
He tossed her a smile. “Perhaps we should put that off until a future lesson, Miss Dower. I am not at all certain that you are ready for such a momentous step.”
Evelyn smiled up at her companion. The expression in her tawny eyes was friendly, but the set of her chin betrayed determination. “Oh, I must disagree, sir! I am not likely ever to be in the company of such a notable whip again, for I am aware that you do not mean to make a long stay in Bath. And how am I to test my understanding of your excellent tutelage if I do not handle the reins?”
Sir Charles allowed his smile to broaden to one of patient amusement. His tone displayed the tolerance reserved for those of simpler understanding. “My dear young lady, forgive me. But I can not think it a sound notion. You see how it is, of course. We are near enough to Bath now that the traffic must increase quite dramatically. I would not wish to return you to your dear mother shaken and disheveled from a carriage accident that can be so easily prevented.”
Evelyn smiled back in her most charming manner. “I am completely confident in your skill and alert attention to prevent any evil consequences.”
Gazing down at his fair companion, Sir Charles began to realize that he was neatly caught. He thoughtfully took note of the alarmingly determined glint in the young lady’s eyes and mentally cursed himself for having made the careless promise. He must have been momentarily bedazzled to have uttered such mad words.
Whatever his inner feelings, however, he could not do less than give in with good grace to the inevitable. “I am complimented by your exorbitant faith in me,” he said ironically, as with visible reluctance he surrendered the reins.
Evelyn accepted the leathers and with a certain delighted trepidation took over the driving of Sir Charles Reginald’s prize team. Any of Sir Charles’s acquaintances who might have seen them would have been struck slack-jawed with astonishment, for it was well known that Sir Charles was extremely jealous of his horses. He rarely granted the privilege of tooling them to another driver.
“Mind the off-leader. Miss Dower!” There was now an edge to Sir Charles’s voice that Evelyn was unaccustomed to hearing from him. He instructed her precisely in her commands to the horses, and at his insistence, Evelyn kept the team to a sedate walk.
The gentleman’s anxiety on behalf of his beloved horses while in the lady’s inexperienced hands was inordinate. At any moment he expected disaster to strike and his horses to take hurt from the unaccustomed and dubious honor of being driven by a lady.
Sir Charles consoled himself with the thought that the team’s freshness had already been so dulled that they would not object to being kept down to such a pedestrian speed and therefore there was little chance of anything dire actually happening.
Evelyn was quite proud of her accomplishment in driving the team. She had been somewhat nervous in the beginning, but she had always been a quick study, and she had absorbed enough of Sir Charles’s explanations that the actual driving came relatively easy to her.
As she had gained confidence, she had entertained the thought of putting the team along a bit faster. She was aware of Sir Charles’s tense anxiety, however, and she was extremely careful to do nothing except that which he instructed her.
After the first several minutes, it was not particularly thrilling to proceed at such a paltry pace, but she well knew that she did not dare to suggest anything livelier. Sir Charles would not only refuse, she thought, but would in all likelihood use her request as an excuse to reclaim the reins, and she was not at all ready to give over control just yet. It was, after all, quite an experience to be up behind a strong team of horses and know that it was her hands that directed them.
Flushed with her success, she tossed a laughing glance up at her markedly unenthusiastic companion. “They are beauties, sir! I had no notion what enjoyment driving such an outstanding team would be.”
Sir Charles was so thoroughly enchanted by her sparkling enthusiasm that his irritation with her waned. “Indeed, it is an excellent team,” he agreed.
When she flashed him another bright smile, he added with a return of warmth, “You have a very good eye, Miss Dower, and I believe an instinct for the leathers, as well.”
“You are too kind, Sir Charles, for I know that I cannot hope to become a true whip in but one lesson. My keenest ambition now is to own a carriage of my own, if Mama permits me. Perhaps I might rely upon your advice in choosing such an equipage and, of course, the team?”
Sir Charles genuinely smiled. There was nothing that appealed to him more than to deal in horses and carriages. The added draw of doing so for an attractive young lady was an extremely pleasing prospect. “I hold myself ready at your earliest convenience, Miss Dower. Indeed, I would deem it an honor to prove myself of such service to a delightful and discerning lady.”
His voice had assumed the caressing note that Evelyn had grown used to from him, and her heart thrilled. Just for an instant she removed her attention from the horses, her hands dropping a fraction as she looked wide-eyed up at him from around the edge of her bonnet.
There was an element in Evelyn’s gaze that invited. Sir Charles was not a man to turn away from an opportunity offered. He drew a finger slowly across her mouth and felt her soft lips part on a faint gasp. When he heard the little sharp intake of breath, he gave no more thought to his horses.
“ ‘Tis beauty unawakened, that siren song, which man cannot resist,” he breathed, and with expert fingers upturned her face for a lingering kiss.
At the first touch of his mouth, Evelyn started like a fawn. But his fingers held her captive, long enough for her to fall in thrall to the unaccustomed and pleasurable sensations the kiss was awakening in her.
Winding up and over the hills, the road was a vista of bucolic serenity. No other carriages maneuvered along it, and all about were the peaceful sounds of a country day as Sir Charles’s team steadily paced forward, completely unattended by the occupants of the carriage.
Suddenly the leaders snorted, perceiving danger ahead. Nervously the horses threw up their heads. The dark haze of bees hovering above the middle of the road buzzed angrily and attacked. The horses panicked.
The carriage jerked forward, slamming Evelyn and Sir Charles against the back of the seat. The reins ran through Evelyn’s slackened fingers and slipped free.
“What the devil!”
Sir Charles lunged forward and grabbed the reins.
The phaeton was pulled into the cloud of enraged bees. Evelyn shrieked as the bees hit her bonnet with solid crunches and one or two spent their stings on her cheek and neck. She clung to the seat rail with only one hand while she frantically slapped aside the infuriated insects and shook them out of her skirt.
Sir Charles cursed steadily, futilely ducking his head against attack while he tried to regain control of the maddened horses. The team thundered on, heedless of their master, and the phaeton was carried at precarious speed.
Sir Charles saw the sharp bend in the road, and in an instant recognized disaster. Renewing his curses, he pulled cruelly with all his strength on the off-leaders. He felt their belated response, even as he knew it was too late.
Wide-eyed with horror, Evelyn clutched the seat rail with both hands. She screamed as the carriage swung too wide for the bend.
An outside wheel hit a rock. The carriage lifted, momentarily skyborne. The elegant phaeton descended with bone-jarring force, and there was the resounding splintering of wood. Then all was quiet.
Evelyn lay very still. She blinked up at the blue sky. Realizing that she had been thrown clear of the phaeton, she cautiously sat up.
She was perfectly astonished to be alive. She took careful inventory. There was not an inch of her that did not protest from bruising or burn from bee sting. She was only thankful that she had not broken any bones.
It was then she thought of her companion. “Sir Charles?”
Evelyn got painfully to her feet, alarmed suddenly by the absolute quiet. “Sir Charles! Are you hurt?”
Evelyn limped hurriedly over to the once-proud carriage. The dust-covered yellow phaeton lay on its side, its underpinnings smashed. Two wheels still spun madly in the air. Evelyn’s heart thumped with fear as her imagination supplied her with an all-too-lurid vision of the gentleman lying trapped and perhaps dead underneath the wreckage. “Sir Charles!”
“Here, Miss Dower!”
Chapter Twenty-three
Sir Charles’s voice sounded reassuringly strong, and Evelyn hurried around the carriage, following its direction. At sight of Sir Charles, she stopped stock-still. He was carefully inspecting the legs of each of his horses, murmuring soothingly when they quickstepped as he touched a tender spot.
Without pausing in his ministrations, Sir Charles glanced around. “Oh, there you are. You are all right, then.” he said casually.
Evelyn was aghast for a moment or two. She could not believe her ears or her eyes. The gentleman cared more for the welfare of his horses than he did for her safe delivery. “Thank you for your concern. Sir Charles!” she snapped.
Despite his overriding preoccupation, Sir Charles detected the anger in her voice. He glanced about again, somewhat impatiently. “Of course I am concerned about you, Miss Dower. In point of fact, it was just this sort of accident that I wished to avoid when I attempted to dissuade you from taking the reins. Now I have two horses with sprained hocks and a smashed wheel and axle and no way to get either of us safely back to town. I shudder to think what your parent may think of this misadventure, but I daresay I shall be denied the door from this day forward.”
Somewhat mollified, Evelyn said, “I do not think it, Sir Charles. Mama is not at all unreasonable, you know. You may still call upon me, I am persuaded.”
Sir Charles’s next statement did not precisely convey the unutterable relief that Evelyn had assumed he must surely feel upon her reassurance. “You relieve my mind, naturally. Here, come hold the strap on this one. I need him to be perfectly still so that I can take a closer look at this ugly scrape.”
Evelyn reluctantly complied with the gentleman’s request and took hold of the horse’s head. She was wary of standing so close to one of the big brutes, but the horse stood peacefully enough under her hand.
Her brows knit as she observed Sir Charles’s absorbed inspection of the animal. She was filled with disquiet, for this scenario was all wrong.
The romantic hero that she had built up in her imagination would have cared nothing for the horses, but instead would have been wild with anxiety over
her
safety and
her
well-being. He would have treated her in a tender and concerned manner, and his uppermost thought would have been to see to her comfort and succor.
Instead, the gentleman that she had cast in that romantic light crooned to his horses and talked to himself while he did a careful inspection of every inch of horse leg. He had not asked if she was hurt, nor had he been concerned that the shock of the accident might have led her to feel lightheaded.
Evelyn toyed with the notion of falling down in a belated faint. However, she was not at all certain that Sir Charles would notice anything untoward except that she had let go of the horse’s bridle. That would be humiliation, indeed, and so she did not act upon the ridiculous inspiration.
Evelyn was slowly coming into a fair state of pique and outrage.
Sir Charles had not only taken it for granted that she was perfectly fine, but he had commanded her in the most cavalier fashion possible to participate in lavishing attention upon his horses.
Evelyn hoped that she was not unfeeling toward the poor creatures. But she did feel that she was a bit more important than a team of horses, regardless of how well matched they were or how valuable. She did not voice her thoughts, however, but instead continued to hold the horse’s head steady.