Chapter Four
Lizzie oftentimes considered how lucky she was. She could not have asked for better employers. Having seen the way some companions and governesses were treated, Lord and Lady Wycliff had been a godsend.
They gave her sufficient time off, the children were a handful, but adorable, and Lizzie was allowed privileges of which she imagined most governesses could only dream.
One of her favorite things was to ride first thing in the morning. Nurse took care of feeding the children breakfast and washing and dressing them. So Lizzie was free to make use of Lord Wycliff’s stables and enjoy an early morning ride.
This morning she needed to race across the grounds, lose herself in the wind, inhale the deep smells of grass, trees, and summer air. She strode from the house to the stable, anticipating seeing Magpie, her favorite mare. Lizzie even had an apple in her pocket for the horse.
Perhaps the ride would clear her mind of the confusing emotions from the night before. She had no idea what had happened when she had played the pianoforte for Lord and Lady Wycliff, something she had done numerous times. Was it the presence of Lord Hawkins that had rattled her so?
Certainly, the news that her father had been killed had been a shock, but not an unexpected one. When she’d left London two years before, he had already been in America for some months. Rumors of him being charged with treason had surfaced during her Season, and she had been whispered about behind fans and, in some cases, given the cut direct.
It had not been until he had failed to return home one evening, and every evening after that, that she realized the danger she herself was in. She’d even been visited by men from the Home Office who’d believed she had information on where her father had gone. They’d even insinuated that she had been part of her father’s betrayal.
Despite having no money or other resources, Lizzie had decided to escape London. She’d turned to a close, very discreet older friend, who had found the position with the Wycliffs and given her a written reference.
She would be forever indebted to Lady Franklin.
As she smoothed the currycomb over Magpie’s coat and then tacked her up, she considered the night before, and how Lord Hawkins had affected her. Although not a diamond-of-the-first-water, she’d had a few men show her interest during her Season. She was used to a man’s attention, flirting, and banter.
But Lord Hawkins did something to her insides she had never experienced before. He was serious, almost moody, which was not how she’d found him in their very brief—albeit unremembered by him—association in London two years ago. Then, he had been charming, witty, a true man-about-town.
Last night, each time she’d glanced at him during dinner, she’d caught him staring at her as if she were a bug under a microscope. She doubted it was because he thought he recognized her. It had been very strange. That and his casual comment about Father being killed had set her nerves on edge, and she’d poured her heart and soul into her playing, as she hadn’t done in a long time. Then she’d hurried out before the tears began to fall.
Once in the safety of her bedchamber the tears had let loose, and she’d sobbed, remembering the father who had loved her, cared for her, and had even sacrificed his honor for her. Now all she had left were her warm memories, and the hatred cast upon her by her peers.
She pushed all that aside and prepared for a lovely early morning ride that would restore her.
“Well, it appears I won’t have to take my ride alone.” Lord Hawkins’s deep voice startled her out of her reverie. She turned quickly, almost losing her footing. He grabbed her arm to keep her from stumbling.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you, Miss Moore.” He released her arm and grinned at her. “Most young ladies rarely see the sun up.”
“You forget, my lord, I am an employee. I have duties to perform and do not have the luxury of lying abed.” A flush rose to her face at her pert answer and mentioning bed to a young gentleman. A rake, no less.
If he saw anything untoward at her comment, it didn’t show. “You are correct, of course, Miss Moore. I must admit I find it hard to think of you as an employee.”
Her chin rose. “And why is that?” Oh dear, had he remembered her? If he had, she would have to give up her very pleasant employment and escape.
“Perhaps it is merely difficult for me to see a beautiful young woman forced to make her own way in the world.”
She grasped the reins of the deep chestnut mare and turned to him. “Not all women are born into a world of luxury, my lord. I am quite content with my life. I enjoy working with the children, and Lord Wycliff is a most generous employer. I have a roof over my head, food on the table, and do not answer to any man, other than my employer. A woman in my situation could do much worse, I assure you.”
“Yes, I am sure you could.” Lord Hawkins moved past her to accept the reins of a black stallion, who pranced and tossed its head, eager for a run. Lord Hawkins ran his gloved hand down the animal’s nose and spoke gently to the beast, who immediately calmed.
Pulling her attention away from his lordship, she was lifted as the stable groom helped her onto Magpie. Lizzie spread her skirts over her legs, hating again the awkward position a lady’s sidesaddle forced her to endure. “You’ve ridden him before.”
Hawkins looked up at her from where he continued to smooth his gloved hand over the horse’s nose. “Yes, but it has been a long time since Bramble and I had a good run together.”
“He’s a beautiful animal.”
“Indeed.” Hawk grasped the pommel and swung his leg over the mount, settling into the saddle. He leaned forward. “Shall we?”
Lizzie turned Magpie, and they trotted from the stable toward the path she generally followed, Hawk alongside her.
The air was cool and early-morning fresh. Soon the warm weather would come to an end, and mornings would turn cold and crisp, but autumn was Lizzie’s favorite time of the year.
They rode in companionable silence for a while, for which Lizzie was grateful. She loved this time of day, when there were no little voices asking questions or struggling with lessons. Oftentimes she would study her charges with an ache—she’d always wanted children of her own.
That would never happen now. She was in hiding, and she doubted she could ever return to her previous life. Not that she wished to. Since her father’s disgrace, she had forsworn all things ton.
No longer did she wish to face the gossipmongers—elderly matrons waiting for one misstep to declare a young girl ruined. Mostly, she despised how attempting to maintain their standard of living had destroyed her father, and ultimately, her. No, she wanted no part of London Society, and if that meant she would never have a husband, children, and a home of her own, then so be it.
“You’re quite pensive this morning.” Lord Hawkins’s deep voice broke into her thoughts, reminding her she had company on this ride, and it was rude to ignore him.
“I am sorry, my lord, I’m afraid I was woolgathering.”
“Can’t you please let off with the ‘my lord’ and refer to me as Hawk?” He raised his hand as she began to speak. “I know you believe it is not proper, but when we are alone together, perhaps you will acquiesce?”
She was not happy to consider his request, still concerned he might discover her true identity if they became too friendly. On the other hand, she did not want to give him reason to check further into her background, either. “I doubt we will have many occasions to be alone together. But if you wish it, then I will call you Hawk.”
“Excellent.” Her stomach jumped at his brilliant smile, even white teeth, and the small wrinkles alongside his mouth and eyes. She did not want to be affected by the man, and every minute she was in his company, she grew more and more concerned about being recognized.
“Are you up for a race?” Perhaps if she kept him from talking and spent more time flying over the ground, he would not focus so much on her. He watched her like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.
“As you wish.” He dipped his head. “As long as you feel secure enough in your saddle to race.”
Lizzie laughed and waved her arm. “I race all the time. I agree, this does put me in an awkward position, but I’ve learned to deal with it.” She turned and placed her hand above her eyes to block the sun. “How about that hedge a bit more than half a mile away?”
Hawk looked in the direction she gestured toward. “The hedge it is, then. The first one over it is declared the winner.”
“Go!” Without giving him a second to think it over, she smacked Magpie’s hindquarter with her crop and took off.
Barely a few seconds after she began her sprint, Hawk was right beside her, leaning over his horse and urging him on. Lizzie smacked Magpie once more. “Come on girl, we can’t let the boys win.”
The hedge grew closer, and Lizzie lost her hat, and her thick hair came loose from its chignon. But nothing stopped her. She was happy for the first time in days. The jump was barely twenty feet in front of her, and she was ready. With easy grace, she and Magpie flew over the hedge, landing smoothly on the other side, right after Hawk.
“Winner!” Hawk threw his fist up in the air as they rode side by side. They slowed their horses down to a trot, then a walk.
He pointed to a pond on the other side of a field of summer wildflowers. “I suggest we rest the horses there and let them take a well-earned drink.”
Lizzie nodded and turned Magpie to follow Hawk.
Before she could even think, Hawk had dismounted, had his hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her off the horse as if she weighed no more than a child. She stared at him as he slowly lowered her to the ground.
His chocolate brown eyes bore into her, making her feel as though he could see right into her soul. Could he see more than she presented? Could he detect that she was not who she pretended to be?
Before he began to question her, she stepped back, and thankfully he dropped his hands since Magpie stood behind her, and Lizzie would not have been able to escape. “Thank you.”
Hawk nodded and grabbed the reins of both horses to lead them to the water’s edge, allowing her time to compose herself. She took a deep breath and moved to a large tree about ten feet from the pond. Disregarding the possibility of grass stains on her skirts, she settled under the tree, tucked her legs under her bottom, and watched Hawk.
He murmured softly into the horses’ ears and gave each of them a pat as they bent their heads to drink. Hawk turned and offered her a smile as he spotted her resting comfortably.
He walked toward her, his gait one of a predator on the prowl. Her insides twisted, and she wished with all her heart that she hadn’t agreed to let him ride with her.