Good Earl Gone Bad Read Free Page B

Ophelia was indeed looking a bit like she wanted to leap from the curricle and never look back.
    â€œShall I give you a hand down, Miss Dauntry?” asked Lord Mainwaring, who had ridden up to their little party on a handsome bay, with the Duke of Trent not far behind on his own splendid midnight-black mount.
    Before Ophelia could respond, Mainwaring was on the ground, and handing Ophelia down from Hermione’s curricle and up into the Lisle barouche.
    â€œYou might have told me you were so desperate to get down, Ophelia,” said Hermione with a frown.
    Of course it had been Lord Mainwaring who came to her friend’s rescue. He would consider Ophelia’s reluctance to ride in such a fast vehicle as a mark of her true femininity. Whereas Hermione, with her taste for driving and fine horseflesh, was far too unladylike for such as him. She felt a pang of jealousy over the way he looked up at her friend before quickly stifling it. Today wasn’t about attracting the notice of handsome gentlemen—at least not the sort who found the notion of a lady driving something akin to a dancing dog, she thought, paraphrasing Johnson, not that she did it well, but that she attempted it at all.
    Today was about pleasing herself and herself alone. She was preparing to make her good-byes before driving to take her place in the crowd of other club members’ carriages, when Mainwaring, back in the saddle, addressed her.
    â€œI take it these are the remarkable grays I’ve heard so much about,” he said, nodding toward where Rosencrantz and Guildenstern had begun to stamp their hooves in restlessness.
    Hermione couldn’t help but notice that Mainwaring’s seat on his own horse was quite good. In buff breeches that outlined the strong muscles of his thighs and a bottle-green coat that looked as if it had been sewn onto his wide shoulders, he looked every bit the dashing nobleman. It didn’t help that his keen blue eyes were watching her.
    Shaking off her unwanted attraction to the man, she held his gaze. “They are, indeed. My pride and joy, and as much the reason for my presence here today as any skill on my part, I’d wager.”
    Her self-deprecation must have surprised him, for he frowned and said, “I sincerely doubt that. I’ve seen you drive, Lady Hermione, and while I might wish you had chosen a safer pastime, even a nondriver like myself has to admit that you are skilled with the reins.”
    The unexpected praise made her blink, and to her shame, she felt a blush creep into her cheeks. Since when did Mainwaring pay her compliments? “I … that is to say…”
    Before she could finish stumbling through her awkward thanks, another rider approached to stop beside Mainwaring.
    From the scowl on Mainwaring’s face it was evident he was not pleased to see the newcomer.
    â€œLady Hermione,” said the dark-haired man, who had intruded on their conversation. “We haven’t been formally introduced. I am Saintcrow. And I’m afraid we’ve got a bit of a dilemma.”
    Hermione blinked. “I don’t understand, Lord Saintcrow. We are not acquainted so I do not know how there might be any sort of trouble between us.”
    â€œMight you not wait until after the meeting of the club has finished?” Mainwaring asked the other man through clenched teeth. Clearly there was no love lost between the two men, but what had provoked such a response from Mainwaring? “There is no need to cause a scene.”
    â€œA scene about what?” Hermione asked, her stomach clenching at the possibilities as to what a public scene might pertain. “I assure you, gentlemen, I should rather know sooner than later.”
    â€œThe long and short of it, dear lady,” said Saintcrow with a shrug that seemed to convey he was not to blame, “is that your father wagered these splendid horses of yours at the gaming table last night and I was