The Virgin Huntress Read Free Page B

frowned.
    “He is, indeed, a man sent from my Lord DeVere,” Jenkins stated.
    “Then pray send him in,” she said.
    Vesta noted Diana’s frown until said messenger appeared, and her expression transformed to one of recognition. “Is it Mr. Pratt?” she asked.
    “Aye, milady.” The wizened little man tugged a forelock. “His lordship has placed me at milady’s disposal with his compliments. I am instructed to attend the young miss’ horses and escort her on her rides.”
    “Does he, indeed?” said Vesta. “How very kind. Don’t you agree, Aunt Di?”
    “His lordship is a generous man to send his head groom,” Diana answered.
    The servant gave a shy smile. “Do you like to ride, miss?”
    “It is my great passion,” Vesta replied.
    “Then you and my lord have sommat in common, as he owns some of the best horseflesh in the country. The racing stock are stabled at Woodcote Park in Epsom, but he and Captain Hew keep a number of fine saddle mounts here in town.”
    “I should love to see them!” Vesta exclaimed.
    “Will you ride in the afternoons then, miss?”
    “Actually, I prefer the early morning. The horses are so much fresher, don’t you think? And I do love a brisk gallop.”
    “I fear there will be little of that,” warned Diana. “You must learn to satisfy yourself with an easy-paced hack.”
    “But why?” Vest asked in dismay.
    “Because a lady riding hell-for-leather is considered hoydenish and vulgar in town.”
    “That’s so unfair!” Vesta looked to Pratt who nodded in sympathy.
    “’Tis so, miss. The ladies take quiet hacks in the park in the afternoons. ‘Tis the fashionable time. ‘Tis more to be seen, ye ken?”
    “I couldn’t care less about fashion.” Vesta scoffed, crossing her arms.
    “But you must, dearest,” Diana protested. “First impressions are lasting.”
    Vesta jutted her chin. “But I have always ridden in the mornings and see no sensible reason why I should not continue to do so, whether fashionable or not. Indeed, I wish to begin on the morrow. Half six, Mister Pratt?”
    He looked to Diana with uncertainty.
    “I suppose there is no real harm,” Diana answered with a sigh. “There will be no time for afternoon rides for the next sennight anyway. And I daresay you should have a new habit before riding at the fashionable hour. We both have an entire wardrobe to order before we may be seen anywhere truly public, and we already have a full afternoon scheduled with the modiste and the haberdasher. You will keep a close watch over her, won’t you, Mister Pratt?”
    “As if she were me own, my lady.”
    “Thank you, Mister Pratt. Then I shall rest assured with Vesta in your capable hands.”

C HAPTER F OUR
    Still accustomed to unfashionable country habits, Vesta rose with the sun to prepare for her ride, dressing hastily in her green velvet habit with matching cocked hat. Just as promised, Pratt appeared with her favorite mare, a sprightly dappled-gray named Artemis. Once given a leg up, Vesta barely gave Pratt time to mount before she was eagerly trotting off toward Grosvenor gate. The fog was gently lifting and the morning air crisp. Her eager mount’s snorting breath formed vapor in the air as Artemis danced along, shaking her head in impatience.
    Riding north toward the parade grounds, the park was nearly deserted until the silence was broken by the rumble of the earth and the thunder of hooves, not of a single horse, but of an entire herd! Vesta pulled up her horse to watch in fascination as a troop of dragoons passed her by and proceeded to perform cavalry maneuvers.
    Although they wore the traditional scarlet coats of the British army, their uniforms were unusual and distinct from any others she had ever seen, with brilliant white breeches, shiny black knee boots, and helmets of black leather crested with scarlet horsehair. Most notable was the troop’s guidon, with the ominous-looking skull and crossbones on a crimson background with Or Glory