Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Saturday morning dawned cloudy, just like every other day that week. Ryland looked out his window and cursed. The periodic rain and lack of heat made for a typical English autumn—soggy. Hopefully all the moisture had given the men enough time to consider their driving and alter their plans accordingly.

Not that Ryland expected Samuel to back out of the race. But he hoped the man would at least consider his life more than his pride and slow his horses if he needed to.

Ryland waited at the door for Aurelia to finish tying her bonnet and join him. He had not seen much of her the last few days, and he wondered if that was by design or happenstance. It was entirely possible—nay, probable—Aurelia did not think about Ryland nearly as much as he thought about her.

She pulled on her gloves while they made their way outside, tugging softly to make them tight.

"The sun could come out," she observed, looking in the distance. "Those clouds don't look too thick."

"We shall see." He offered his arm when they reached the gravel, and she looked at it askance. Ryland immediately revoked the offer, clasping his hands behind his back. He had done it from habit—an impulse so ingrained in him he had not consciously thought before acting. The truth was she was a lady, regardless of her fall in station, and he was a gentleman. Offering his arm was simply what a gentleman did.

"Edmund is waiting at the carriage," he said. When all else failed, he could talk about his son. That was his plan, and it typically worked with Aurelia.

But this time, she merely nodded.

"How is your ankle?" she asked, clasping her hands in front of her as they walked to the carriage house.

"Sore but manageable." It hurt far more than that, but he thought he was doing an admirable job of walking and hiding his pain.

"And this race? Is Mr. Harding favored to win, do you think?"

"I have heard that's the case," he said, waiting for her to step around a large puddle in the center of the path before circling it after her. "But I heard it from Samuel. So, one never does know."

She laughed, the sound like rich chocolate. "I imagine if he wins, Edmund will change his future profession from an explorer to a horse racer."

She was likely correct.

Aurelia paused on the lane, giving him a considering glance. "May I ask…why do you indulge him when you know he will be the next earl?"

Ryland gripped his hands together tighter. "My father died when I was very young. I have known nothing but being Ryland for nearly my entire life. I lost my given name so early, it was an oddity to hear it after I married and my wife chose to use it instead of my title—though I quickly changed my opinion to that end." He gave her a brief smile. "When Jane died and I faced raising Edmund, I decided not to make his identity that of an earl quite yet. I am training him to know what he needs to know, and he will never fail to understand the responsibilities he will one day have, but being an earl is only part of who he is. It is a large part—his legacy is important, so do not misunderstand that—but if he chooses to raise horses to race or spend time in India after he attends university, I will not begrudge him those choices."

Aurelia stared at him for so long, her eyes almost unblinking, he feared he'd said something offensive. She tilted her head to the side as though it would help her see through his eyes and into his soul. "You are a very good man, my lord."

"I am only a man," he argued, his chest constricting. "I do my best."

"Your best is rather good." Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. "Edmund is fortunate to have a father who cares so much for his happiness and wellbeing. That is certainly not always the case."

He was growing uncomfortable with the praise while simultaneously wishing to bask in it a moment longer. Ryland began walking toward the carriage house again. "Edmund makes it simple. He is a good boy."

"He is good, so you ought to take credit where it's due."

"It makes me feel uncomfortable," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I used to be what I considered a good man, but after Jane died I…retreated. It has only been recently that I've done what I could to be part of society again."

She put her hand on his arm, tentatively pressing. "You have been precisely what Edmund has needed."

Ryland looked at her hand, enjoying the feeling of it touching his arm.

Aurelia pulled it away and turned for the stables again. "Edmund is a fierce learner. I'm not certain Mr. Barnes can keep up with his thirst for more knowledge. You might have a future gamekeeper on your hands."

"He'll be a hunter, then," Ryland said. "I am forming a hunting party in a fortnight, actually. Perhaps when the week is through, Edmund will change his mind once more."

She laughed. "I'm certain he will. Is there anything I might do to assist with the preparations for your hunting party?"

"Keep Edmund out of Mrs. Pike's way and you are doing it," he quipped. They reached the carriage house, where Edmund was nearly bouncing in his seat. The older curricle was hitched to the horses, which made Ryland nervous. They had been sitting snugly on the way to Dunder Hill, but this one boasted an even smaller bench.

But it was that or a closed carriage, since he was waiting on Jacob Ridley to finish the parts to repair his new curricle, and it wasn't possible to watch a race from inside a carriage. He led Aurelia to the other side of the curricle and handed her up, waiting until she was settled before taking his seat. Paul, his groom, handed him the reins, then climbed on the back, and they maneuvered through the open archway and out onto the lane.

Fresh, cool air flowed past them as Ryland drove down the road toward Locksley and the point of the race's end. Edmund buzzed with anticipation, and Ryland relaxed. His explanation to Aurelia and her lack of judgment had given him a measure of relief and the fleeting hope that perhaps he was not doing so terribly after all.

Perhaps his parenting was not completely ruining his son.

Aurelia sat on the curricle's narrow bench seat, squished against Edmund's side, as Ryland deftly parked them right beside Ruth's open barouche. Ruth's elderly maid, Pimm, was seated on the bench beside her, and Oliver was seated across from them.

"Did you come together?" Ryland asked.

"No." Oliver gave him a rueful smile. "I rode. Ruth was kind enough to lend me a seat until it was time to spectate."

"Did you bring Tom, Aunt Ruth?" Edmund asked.

"Not today. I'm afraid my mother would not allow it."

Ryland coughed. "She said so?"

Ruth nodded. "Didn't want to fill his head with ideas."

From what Aurelia had witnessed of Tom, he did not need any assistance filling his own head with ideas. She looked at Ryland, hoping he was not regretting his choice after hearing his mother's opinions. She appreciated the way he was raising Edmund. Of course, he would never take the boy to a pugilist fight or some such thing, but this was harmless—she hoped.

Ryland pulled an old pocket watch from his waistcoat and checked the time before closing it again. His thumb brushed along the backside with affection. "Ten minutes."

"That is beautiful," Aurelia said, admiring the subtle design etched into the side.

"My wife gave it to me," he explained. "It was a wedding gift."

Aurelia nodded, but her stomach swirled. Did he think of Jane every time he pulled it out? His thumb brushed over it with such love, it was almost painful to witness.

Oliver opened the door to Ruth's barouche. "I better regain my seat now."

"You made the right decision in bringing Edmund," Aurelia said, leaning over Edmund while he was distracted looking at all the other horses and carriages lined up on the lane. Half the county had come out to see the race, it seemed.

Ryland's lips pressed into a thin line. "You must be able to hear my thoughts."

"That is outside my abilities. But I did wonder—anyway, do not compare your choices to your mother's. You are different parents, and you are parenting different children."

When Ryland looked at her, Aurelia had to stifle a quiet gasp. He was far closer than she'd realized and, even with Edmund between them, she was near enough to see the various shades of brown in his eyes. She'd thought they were so dark as to be one solid color, but the sun highlighted the different shades of browns and ambers. They were striking. And they were lit . She looked up, noting the parting clouds and the blue skies, a smile curving over her mouth.

Her chest warmed. "Sunlight."

Ryland chuckled low. "You are sunlight, Miss Beswick."

The comment so took her by surprise, she had no ready response for him. She was glad Oliver had climbed into his saddle and moved to park his horse on the other side of their curricle so he could speak to Ryland.

Aurelia needed a moment to calm her racing heart.

The men were bent together in quiet conversation, but she overheard a few words she recognized— grandmother being one of them. She had learned recently that Oliver lived with the grandmother who had raised him. Given his grim expression, she hoped all was well.

Ryland leaned back again, shaking his head. "Not all hunts include parties."

"This one should. It will be expected."

"No women will be in attendance," Ryland argued.

Oliver leaned back, eyebrows raised. "My point exactly. Smedley will certainly revolt if you do not hold at least one party. A ball should suffice, I think."

Ryland shook his head, his nose wrinkling in dissatisfaction.

All Aurelia could hear was ringing in her ears. She knew Smedley very well. Surely it was the same Mr. Smedley Nathaniel had introduced to her, the man he'd known from their years together at Eton. What were the odds someone who went to school with Nathaniel might know a different man by that name?

The same Smedley who had proposed marriage to her nearly two years ago—more than once—and whom she refused out of hand each time he asked. The same one who had remained bitter about that turn of events and would likely do whatever he could to jeopardize her position.

"Oliver believes the hunting party needs a ball," Ryland said, looking at her for a reaction.

She tamped down her concern. What were the chances she could remain absent for the duration of his hunting party? Days went by without her seeing Ryland. She could manage the same for as long as it took for Smedley to arrive, visit, and leave again.

Or perhaps Heaven would smile upon her and it would be an entirely different Smedley.

Do not worry before you need to, Aurelia .

It was good advice. She ought to heed it.

"Here they come!" someone in the crowd hollered. Everyone turned as one to look down the road. It was impossible to see who was in the lead from this distance. The closer they grew, the more Aurelia found herself leaning forward.

"Samuel is in the lead," Oliver said, leaning forward in a show of enthusiasm she had not seen from him before.

Ryland grinned, and Edmund bounced in his seat without pause.

When they were close, it was clear Samuel was an entire carriage length ahead of the other man. He pulled through the lane, passing them with a determined expression and a glint in his eye. The second carriage came in close behind him.

When Samuel saw Ruth, he raised his hat in the air and pulled on the reins, slowing them. The second driver scowled, coming behind him at far too quick a clip.

"He is moving too fast," Oliver said, leaning forward. "Samuel!"

Samuel turned to look over his shoulder, searching for whoever had shouted his name as the second curricle driver's horses skidded to avoid a collision. They pulled off the road, trying to avoid both Samuel's curricle and the spectators. In a quick sweep of the reins that proved just how talented a whip Samuel's opponent was, he directed his horses around Samuel's curricle and back onto the road, narrowly missing the horses lined up with their carriages.

One of the horses reared, spooked by the near-collision, and jumped forward, but his driver managed to get him under control.

Aurelia looked down at a pale-faced Edmund, his little hands clutching her arm with white knuckles. "I thought we were all going to die."

Ryland barked a laugh. "No one is dying today, son. But now you see why these races can be dangerous."

Shouts and hollers went out around them, some of them angry or disappointed, but many were joyous. Exuberance was fresh after the crowd realized they'd escaped the collision safely.

Edmund stood in his seat. "Can we talk to Samuel, Papa? Please?"

Ryland lifted his gaze to her.

"Go on," she said, gesturing for them to be on their way. "The danger has passed and I am happy to wait."

Edmund and Ryland climbed down from the curricle. Oliver joined them, and together they started toward Samuel.

"You can sit with me while you wait," Ruth called.

Aurelia climbed down with Paul's help, then up the step and into the seat across from Ruth.

"Have you met Pimm?" Ruth asked, gesturing to her companion. The woman's lips were turned down in a slight frown.

"Only when we first arrived. It is a pleasure," she said.

Pimm nodded in quiet greeting.

Ruth noticed something behind Aurelia's shoulder and leaned closer. "Please pretend we are deep in private conversation," she whispered.

Aurelia leaned forward. "Certainly. Am I to know why we must pretend?"

"Samuel," she hissed. "He is coming this way, and I cannot endure his flirtations while he is stuffed full of pride after winning the race. He will be insufferable."

Aurelia paused momentarily, weighing the rudeness of asking the question that danced on the tip of her tongue. Ruth was being frank, so why shouldn't she? In truth, Ruth treated her as though she hadn't fallen so low, as if she hadn't come from a wealthy family who lost everything to gambling and forced her into a life of work.

"You must have expected this from him," she said. "Why did you come?"

Ruth blinked. "That is a good question. I couldn't bear to be left out, I suppose. It is too grand an adventure to miss. How often do men race near us—actually, at least once a year, I suppose. They will likely set a rematch as well. The Locksley man didn't look too pleased, did he? I really must learn his name."

Aurelia hadn't paid him any mind. She had been struck by the joy on Samuel's face when he'd realized he won. She liked him, foppish clothing and all. He didn't act like a pink of the ton , and she had known plenty of those over the years. Samuel dressed in an outlandish manner, but his attitude was not that of a man who cared more for keeping his breeches clean than for his friends.

The proof, she realized, was in his willingness to race. Even wearing a fashionable greatcoat boasting far too many capes, he was covered with specks of mud and had windblown, disorderly hair—though that did nothing to dim his glee. She wondered why he put so much effort into dressing himself when he didn't seem to care a great deal if he remained impeccable.

"Talk to me," Ruth hissed. "He is coming this way."

"I have nothing to say."

"Tell me more about your brother. Have they discovered the item he allegedly stole?"

"Not to my knowledge." Aurelia looked over her shoulder to see that Samuel was indeed making his way toward them. "I am happy for that at least, but I think they are pushing his trial date in order to allow themselves more time to find it."

"Why would they need to? You said they have him for his debts."

"Because debts can be erased, I suppose. He wronged a powerful man who does not wish to allow him any chance to redeem himself."

"Who is the powerful man?"

Aurelia hesitated. She had been told the family's name—Wingate, a wealthy merchant with two beautiful daughters of marrying age—but until Nathaniel was convicted, it felt strange to admit it aloud.

"What was he alleged to have stolen?" Ruth pressed. "We must be deep in conversation."

She nearly did not share that bit of information, either, but it was public knowledge and she had nothing else to say. "A ring. From the man's daughter, during a ball."

"Why was your brother assumed to have taken it?"

"Because they danced and then the ring disappeared. All the same, it could have been anyone who took it. It could have fallen while she readied for the evening. She could have slipped it off when eating her supper and it rolled beneath the table. There is only her word against Na—" She cleared her throat. "Against my brother's."

"I see." Ruth peered at her, and she didn't know if it was because she'd caught the slip or because she was committed to appearing like they were sharing important secrets so they would not be interrupted.

"Thank you for coming," Samuel said, having reached them. Evidently he had no qualms about interrupting private conversations.

"Drat," Ruth said under her breath, so quietly Samuel likely didn't hear her.

Aurelia straightened, leaning away from her friend. "That was very impressive, Mr. Harding. Well done, sir."

He beamed. "Thank you, Miss Beswick. Though we ought to devise a safer finish line next time." His attention turned to Ruth expectantly.

"You were very impressive, Samuel. I didn't know you could manage a curricle so well."

"I would be glad to take you for a ride sometime and teach you some of my methods."

Ruth's eyes lit, then dimmed. "You know I will not court a man from Harewood."

"Yes, I've heard." He did not appear to care about this rule in the least. "We are friends, though, are we not?"

"I will not court a man from Harewood," she repeated, laughing with frustration. "But I thank you for the kind offer."

Samuel's face fell before he rallied. He doffed his hat with a wide smile. "Good day, ladies."

As he walked away, Ruth leaned back, letting out a sigh. "I do wish he would not force repetitious rejections from me. It is exhausting."

"I find him charming," Aurelia said, watching his retreating back with pity. As someone who'd had to repeatedly reject a suitor, though, she understood how wearying it could be.

"I like him quite a lot," Ruth said with mild defensiveness. "But I do not wish to marry him."

Aurelia could not fault her that. Instead, she made herself comfortable and listened to Ruth prattle on.

"I am surprised we never saw each other in Town," Ruth said.

"We might have, but I lost interest in the Season a few years ago."

"You never wanted to marry?" She put up her hand. "You cannot convince me you never received offers. You are far too pretty and intelligent."

Aurelia's cheeks warmed under the praise. "I had a few offers, but none of them were very pleasant. I had inaccurately assumed that my father's fortune would sustain me and was too careless with my prospects."

Ruth's eyes narrowed in consideration. "Would you prefer to be married to a ninny over being Edmund's governess?"

To her credit, the question felt genuine. Aurelia might have had a household to run and children to care for had she accepted Smedley or one of the other men who had proposed in earlier Seasons, but she would have been forced to endure life as their wife. "No," she said with confidence. "I would not. I am very happy where I am."

Ruth grinned. "I am happy you are here, as well."

When Ryland returned, they bade farewell to Ruth and she waved. "I will see you in church tomorrow. Edmund, come and give me a kiss." Ruth dipped her head while Edmund climbed into her barouche.

"She certainly didn't direct that to me," Ryland said quietly, helping Aurelia into her seat. "She has not seen me in church in years."

"She could have." Aurelia spoke before thinking better of it. "You would be most welcome."

Ryland looked at her. He climbed onto the bench and kept his dark eyes trained on her. Leaning close, he lowered his voice. "I do not avoid church because of a strained relationship with God. I avoid it to avoid the people. All the pity"—he pulled a face—"it was too much."

Aurelia bit her tongue, swallowing her argument. "Of course, my lord."

He did not speak on the remainder of the ride home, but when they reached the house, he gave her a smile she hoped was meant to imply all was well between them.