time the Indians had attacked her home? Had they attacked her? Was the cause of her determination to close her heart and mind on marriage, on men, something to do with the relationship that had existed between her parents—or something else of an entirely different nature that she dared not reveal to anyone?
He directed his gaze to the window and his eye was caught by a mounted rider galloping across the park at breakneck pace. Frowning, he stood up, straining his eyes through the slightly distorted diamond panes better to recognise the person—which he did. Immediately. He was unable to believe his own eyes, as his gaze became impaled on the figure on the horse.
It was Angelina.
In the space of a heartbeat, fury had replaced Alex’s calm composure. He was furious that Angelina worried him with her recklessness, furious that she was able to evoke any kind of emotion in him at all. Clenching his fists, he stood and watched her. Crouched low over her horse’s neck with her face almost buried in the dancing mane, she rode as no lady should, in breeches and astride. There was simplicity and confidence as she soared over a hedge, at one with her mount, its tail floating behind like a bright defiant banner.
Her mount!
Alex’s face was almost comical in its expression of disbelief when his eyes shifted from the breeches-clad girl to the horse. It was Forest Shadow, a high-spirited, excitable sorrel stallion he’d purchased two months ago at Newmarket to introduce into his hunters. Forest Shadow presented a challenge to even the most accomplished rider, who would be hard pressed to keep the high-stepping animal under control. White with rage, he felt his body go rigid.
‘Of all the brazen, outrageous females,’ he said in a savage underbreath. When she had shot the rabbit, he would have sworn he was incapable of feeling more furious than he had then, but the rage that exploded inside him at that moment surmounted even that.
Turning quickly, he strode to the door, jerking it open, the stallion bearing its young rider already a diminishing speck in the distance. How dare she ride out of the park alone after he’d forbidden her not to, and how dare she take that horse out of the stable when there wasn’t a lad employed by him who was willing to ride out on the animal? On the other hand, he thought with increasing fury as his long legs descended the stairs in leaping strides, that defiant, conniving, dark-eyed witch would dare anything.
Jenkins waylaid Alex in the hall. He shot him an impatient look. ‘What is it?’ he demanded brusquely.
‘I was just coming to inform you that Sir Nathan Beresford and his wife Lady Verity arrived a few minutes ago, my lord. They are with Lady Fortesque in her room.’
‘Thank you, Jenkins,’ Alex replied. Brushing past the butler he stalked towards the door. ‘I have an urgent matter to attend to at the stables. Apologise for my absence and tell them I will be along directly.’
On reaching the stables he cornered one of the lads. ‘Who gave Miss Hamilton permission to ride Forest Shadow?’ he demanded.
‘I don’t know, milord. She just appeared—saying she was going to ride him. We thought you must have told her she could. She wasn’t afraid to ride him, milord.’
‘No, I don’t imagine for one minute that she was,’ he seethed.
‘Miss Hamilton’s good with the horses. Seems to have taken a special fancy to the Shadow—and the Shadow to Miss Hamilton. She understands him. She seems to have a natural communication with him.’
‘Indeed!’
‘Yes, milord. At first, though, when she mounted him, we thought he was going to throw her, but the oddest thing was that when she talked to him—quiet like, into his ear—he seemed to know what she wanted him to do and settled down.’
‘And didn’t anyone think to go with her?’
‘Yes, milord. But she refused the offer of a groom. Will you be wanting Lancer saddled?’ the lad asked, hoping not, having just finished rubbing the stallion down and giving him his feed after returning from St Albans with his lordship. He considered it prudent to keep to himself the stir the young American miss had created by appearing at the stables in breeches—breeches that had seen better days, by the look of them—and of how she had grasped a handful of the Shadow’s mane and leapt on to his back with the casual grace of a well-trained acrobat.
‘No,’ Alex snapped, striding out of the stables like a raging hurricane. He could see no point in riding all over the estate looking for the pesky wench when he knew damn well that she’d come back of her own accord anyway, and when she did he’d teach her obedience if he had to beat it into her.
Walking quickly back to the house, Alex knew a wrath that was beyond anything he had ever felt in his life. That was the moment he encountered Nathan, who had left Verity chatting to her mother and come to look for him. After greeting each other Nathan fell into step beside him.
‘Patience tells me your uncle is in Cornwall,’ said Nathan.
‘He’s visiting a sick friend.’
‘Convenient, don’t you think,’ he remarked, observing his friend thoughtfully, ‘leaving you and Patience to care for Miss Hamilton?’
‘Absolutely,’ Alex growled.
Nathan sensed that Alex was definitely put out about something, and he suspected the cause of it might be about to appear out of the woods on which Alex’s eyes were fixed. Rather than wait for an explanation, he plunged straight in.
‘At the risk of intruding into your thoughts, Alex, might I ask why you are wearing such a formidable frown? Your thoughts appear to be damnably unpleasant—in fact, you look fit to commit murder.’
‘I am,’ Alex ground out.
Nathan smiled. ‘So you have not found the peace at Arlington you sought when you left London.’
‘Peace? I cannot envisage any peace with someone like the American chit around. Never did I realise that when I quit London for Arlington—where peace and quiet has reigned supreme for centuries—that it would lead to such frustration and aggravation. But then I never could have imagined a girl quite like Angelina Hamilton either.’
‘I think this business with your uncle’s ward is preying too much on your mind.’
‘I seldom think of her—if it can be avoided.’ Which was true—but impossible. It seemed that whenever he thought of Angelina his thoughts became angrily chaotic. She was like some dancing, irrepressible shadow imbedded in his mind.
Nathan gave him a laughing, sidelong look. ‘So you would have me think. But I did notice before you left London that your conversations were often sprinkled with varied references to Miss Hamilton.’
Alex threw him a black look. ‘Really?’ he growled with a hint of mockery. ‘I didn’t realise you were being so observant, Nathan—but since you are, you will have noticed that the only references I have made to that pesky wench have been unfavourable.’
‘And nothing has changed now you have got to know her a little better?’ he inquired.
‘No—in fact, they have taken a turn for the worse.’
‘Patience told me you were beginning to get on rather well.’
‘We were, until she decided to take one of my best stallions for a ride to God knows where—without an escort or my permission.’
‘Which one?’
‘Forest Shadow.’
Nathan’s blue eyes widened with astonishment. ‘What? You mean that magnificent sorrel you bought at Newmarket recently?’
‘The same.’
‘Good Lord. He’s a peppery beast at the best of times. Much too powerful for a young woman to handle.’
‘One thing I have learned about Miss Hamilton, Nathan, is that she is no ordinary young woman—as you will discover very soon. She is also more