Chapter Seven

In which Our Heroine finds herself at a Loss for Words, and learns that She can Skate Quite Well Around the Truth, even without Ice beneath one's Boots.

Florinda remounted the horse with assistance from Ashe, her thoughts whirling, her body still dealing with the aftershocks incurred by the feel of his hands on her flesh.

She should, of course, be enjoying a bout of hysterics at having been caught in the most compromising of positions by a woman who was undoubtedly capable of ruining not just her reputation, but her entire life.

But for some reason, the expected panic had not set in. At least not yet. And for that, Ashe was partly responsible.

His calm demeanour and refusal to allow the situation to fluster him or throw him into hysterics, had been of assistance in managing her emotions. Mostly.

He'd made sure she was not physically hurt, helped her rise, and brushed her skirts free of most of the debris they'd gathered while rolling on the bank. He'd not even mentioned being on top of her during said activity, although he had sort of wriggled a little when walking to his horse. Unfamiliar with how gentlemen settled themselves after such events, she shrugged and straightened her bonnet, allowing him to cup her foot and toss her into the saddle.

Resuming their previous positions, Ashe clicked up their mount and set them back on the path to town.

"Are you sure you're uninjured?" he asked a few minutes later.

She nodded, her face turned toward the horse's head. "I'm fine, thank you."

Silence fell, during which Florinda considered what topic of conversation might be appropriate to hold with a gentleman who had just been discovered on top of her with his hands up her skirt.

"How much trouble are we in?" Ashe spoke quietly, but firmly. "You'd best tell me now, Florinda."

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "A lot depends on Lady Filwarde. If she decides to bruit it about that we were…well, caught in a compromising position, you might say, then yes, we're in quite a bit of trouble."

"Ahh."

"However," she turned then to look at him, meeting that clear blue gaze and trying to ignore the little shiver it always sent darting over her skin, "if we are incredibly lucky, she may not have recognised us. It wasn't as if we were lying there for hours waiting for boats to pass us and wave." She sighed.

"How's her vision?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't know," she replied, "and that's another thing. Standing in a moving boat, might not have given her the chance to fully identify us." Her shoulders drooped. "I'm wishing for miracles, Ashe."

"You don't need to, you know."

She glanced back at him again, frowning. "I don't?"

"No." He smiled gently. "I'd marry you tomorrow, Florinda. Without hesitation."

"Uhh…"

She was aware that she was gaping at him, but seemed unable to close her mouth. Ripples of some kind of emotion were making her tremble, and she could barely swallow.

"I'm quite serious. I find you enormously attractive, in so many ways. Your company is always a delight, your humour, and intelligence have captivated me, and I don't know about you, but I find the few kisses we've shared to be extremely pleasant."

"Ahh…"

"I could go on about how my life changed the moment I met you, which it did. And I could also mention how aware I've been of you, no matter where we might meet."

"Umm…"

"And if I were less of a gentleman, I would certainly mention other things…" he leaned closer to her ear, caressing it with his breath. "Such as my desire to explore the more physical aspect of our acquaintance. To get my hands on more of your skin and find out if it's as soft everywhere as it is on the bits I was privileged to touch this morning."

Speechless at this point, Florinda just stared at him and blinked.

"But I see my words have robbed you of the power of speech," Ashe grinned. "So I'll be quite happy to wait until it returns, and you can give me your response."

She blinked again, swallowed, and tried to think of something to say, but her brain at this point was completely and utterly unable to come up with anything more useful than a sound.

"Oohhh."

It seemed to suffice, as Ashe smiled warmly and nodded. "Just in time," he said, raising his gaze from her face to the path ahead. "I believe we are almost within the limits of the Metropolis."

Jerked back into the real world (although she confessed to herself that she would've liked to have stayed in the other one for a bit longer), Florinda sighed and turned to see they were about to leave the bank and move onto a paved street that led away from the river.

"Where should I take you?" Ashe asked casually.

"Anywhere," murmured Florinda without thinking. Then she pulled herself together. "I apologise. I believe if you take the second street on the right, you will find the location of several carriages, one of which should be mine." She shrugged. "Sir Reginald was to return me there at the end of our trip."

"I see." Ashe followed her directions, remaining silent as they clattered over the cobblestones and discovered the Boothe carriage exactly where it was supposed to be.

The maid inside looked shocked to see Miss Florinda not with Sir Reginald, but on a horse with the Right Honourable Mr Ashe Trease.

"Is everything all right, Miss Florinda?" She hurried from the carriage.

"Yes indeed, Nancy. There was an unfortunate incident with Sir Reginald's punt, but luckily Mr Trease was on hand to rescue me and convey me here in one piece."

She slid gracefully down into his waiting arms, trying hard not to moan with pleasure as they caught her and steadied her. "It was my honour to be of service, Miss Boothe. And now I shall continue my ride, secure in the knowledge that you have been returned safely to the bosom of your family."

Florinda raised an eyebrow. "Nancy is a wonderful maid, but more the right hand than the bosom."

He bowed, grinning. "I stand corrected."

Recollecting herself, she curtsied. "I am in your debt, sir. Your kindness this morning is very much appreciated."

"Not at all, Miss Boothe. The pleasure was entirely mine."

Florinda narrowed her eyes and leaned toward him a little. "Not entirely," she breathed, then moved quickly to the carriage. "Perhaps we shall meet at the Beswick affair this evening. But now I must hurry home. My dress bears the marks of some muddy adventures, and I'd prefer not to parade around in it."

Her maidnodded. "You come right along, Miss, and we'll get you home in no time."

"Thank you again, Mr Trease. I trust we shall meet again soon." Florinda's words were spoken politely across the distance separating them as she clambered into the carriage and gave him a tiny wave.

He gave her a matching polite little salute, knowing she couldn't hear his mumbled response… "You can wager your entire dress allowance on that, Miss Boothe."

*~~*~~*

"Oh Florinda, thank goodness you're home."

"Mama? What's wrong?"

The older woman blinked for a moment as she ran a worried gaze over her daughter. "What on earth happened to you?"

"I…well, nothing, really, I just took a bit of a tumble…"

"Oh my dear girl. Was Sir Reginald able to help?"

"Er…" Florinda thought frantically. "Sir Reginald wasn't there at the time."

"Where was he?" Her mama's face creased into a puzzled frown.

"Hopefully at the bottom of the Thames," snapped back Florinda, finally at her wits' end. "Mama, I'm sorry, but that man is a miserable excuse for a human being. I don't care how much money he has, I not only will not consider marrying him, I will actively seek to be elsewhere if there are even the slightest rumours he might be within five miles of me in the future."

Lady Boothe blinked. "Oh dear. That bad?"

"Worse." She sighed. "It's over, thank heavens. I was rescued by Mr Ashe Trease."

"Who?"

"A gentleman, Mama. Which, come to think of it, is a bit of a rarity in town this Season."

"Never heard of him."

Florinda managed not to roll her eyes at the dismissive tone in her mother's voice. "He is the son of Lord Hawthorn Trease, and you probably haven't heard of him either. He's a Viscount, but rarely visits London." She paused and put her hands on her hips. "Which, from where I'm standing at this moment, seems to be a very wise decision."

"Oh now, Florinda, don't get all haughty with me." Her mother sighed. "I only want what's best for you, you know. And you will admit I've not forced you into anything, which—given the fact that you are closing in on the age where marriage might become impossible—I think is rather restrained of me."

"You are correct, Mama, and I apologise if I was a bit snippy. But the trip on the river with Sir Reginald was an unmitigated disaster. Thankfully I managed to extricate myself and at a time when Mr Trease happened to be riding in the same area. He…"

She swallowed, considering how to describe the incident with the bench, the horse, and the man who had kissed her silly. "He was all that was kind, and took me up in front of him to ride back to town. He even allowed me to rest a little on a lovely bench by the water, and we engaged in a very pleasant conversation." Her conscience kicked her soundly. She ignored it as best she could.

"Well, then, I suppose that's a good thing." Her mother looked at her with narrowed eyes. "I shall, of course, expect to be introduced to this Mr Trease when next you see him?"

"I would be happy to present him to you, Mama." She took a breath and fixed a calm smile on her face. "I find him a most pleasant conversationalist." Her conscience stood up, put its hands on its hips and glared at her, then administered another sound kick.

"But what has made you so glad I'm home? I recall your first comment…"

"Oh, yes. Your dress."

"A bit muddy, yes, I'm sorry about that, but—"

"The mud doesn't matter," sighed her mother. "It's the fabric, my dear. I learned this morning from my modiste that yours and another gown were made from the very same bolt."

Florinda frowned. "It happens, I'm sure. But not something that need become a Cheltenham tragedy, Mama?"

The older woman bit her lip. "In most cases, no. But in this case, possibly. You see, the gown was made for…" she took a deep breath, "Lady Delphine Haverling."

"Oh."

"Yes. Now you understand."

"Goodness, Mama." Florinda glanced down at herself. "I'll change. And probably burn it."

"Good idea," endorsed Lady Boothe. "You and Lady Haverling are not dissimilar in stature and colouring, and the merest hint that the two of you might be confused? Terrible. Just terrible."

Florinda nodded. The notorious Lady Delphine had a reputation that would not hold up to much examination. Given to parading through the Ton with an escort of barely acceptable men, she continually provided fodder for gossip and was tolerated only because she was as rich as Croesus, thanks to her aged husband, who had the sense to remain in the country and let his wife do as she willed with whomever she pleased.

The arrangement worked for them both, but there were restrictions on the woman's activities. Only recently she'd been turned away from Almack's because her escort had failed to dress appropriately. The hostesses didn't like her and jumped on any reason they could find to bar her from their rooms.

There were also whispers that her current retinue of three gentlemen shared her bed. At the same time.

Florinda had spent more than a few moments with Susan discussing that rumour; well out of the range of her parents, of course.

"I'm sure there's no need for concern, Mama. I've worn this for less than six hours, and most of that time have been well out of London. And it will immediately be disposed of. I'll see to it myself."

"Thank God for that," replied Lady Boothe. "Do it now, so my mind can calm down." She held her hand to her bosom as she turned away from her daughter. "I declare I'm going to have a spasm if anything else like this happens to us."

Florinda didn't reply. What could she say? Don't worry, Mama. The grime on my gown is from where I rolled around on the bank kissing Ashe Trease. I'm probably no better than Lady Haverling, come to think of it.

Shaking her head, she walked up the stairs and turned to her room. This dress was finished, but might there be repercussions for the morning's activities?

She had no idea, and that worried her more than a little.