Pendragon

Ah, let it rain, she didn't care. But her riding habit, her beautiful new hat. No, only Jeremy mattered, and how he would feel when she poured out her heart to him. Not immediately, no, it would surprise him, perhaps make him wary of a girl who professed to have fallen in love with him when she was thirteen. No, she would hold back until the time was right, until he looked at her and simply knew she was his mate.

She looked up to see two people riding toward her. She looked away, lips pursing. Well, blessed hell, she didn't want two strangers anywhere near her. She just wanted Jeremy, and she wanted him alone. The two horses kept coming straight at her. Meggie cocked her head to one side and looked now, really looked.

It was a man and a woman. The man, who looked like a bloody centaur riding a magnificent black barb, was Jeremy Stanton-Greville. As for the woman, curse her eyes, she was young. She was riding very close to Jeremy.

Meggie felt her heart begin to pound, slow thumping strokes. Her breath suddenly whooshed out when she realized she'd forgotten to breathe. She waited, sitting very still atop Eleanor.

Jeremy waved to her. In just another short moment he and the young woman were directly in front of her, not more than three feet from Eleanor's nose.

'Meggie,' Jeremy said, riding his horse just a bit closer, extending his hand to take hers briefly, 'I am so glad you're here. I wasn't sure that you would be here this morning. It's on the chilly side, you know.'

'Yes,' Meggie said, 'I know. I wanted to see you.' But she wasn't looking at him in that moment, she was staring at the most beautiful young lady she'd ever seen in her life, who had also ridden a big closer. Her glossy black hair was arranged in artful tight curls around her face with the rest of it pulled up atop her head into an Adonis knot. So much black hair, thicker than a female deserved, just barely covered by a clever little riding hat with a curling feather that caressed her white cheek. Ah, and such lovely white skin. She was more beautiful than a woman should be. Meggie wouldn't be surprised if her bloody name were Helen.

The goddess smiled, a quite lovely smile that reached those incredible blue eyes of hers.

Jeremy said, 'Charlotte, I would like you to meet one of my favorite cousins, Meggie Sherbrooke. Meggie, this is Charlotte Beresford, my betrothed.'

Betrothed. In that moment everything in Meggie closed down. She'd heard the term coup de foudre-struck by lightning, to signify falling in love upon first seeing someone. This was a different sort of lightning. This coup de foudre sliced right to her heart and split it apart, shattering it into a million pieces.

'How do you do,' Meggie said in another's voice as the real Meggie lay there beneath Eleanor's hooves, mortally wounded. Both parts of her wished the heavens would burst open, right this instant, and every fat cloud would dump every ounce of rain until she drowned in it. No, until that damnable young lady named Charlotte drowned in it.

'I am very fine, thank you, Miss Sherbrooke,' said the young lady. She grinned toward Jeremy and lightly tapped her riding crop to his sleeve. 'I have told Jeremy that he comes from such a distinguished family. His uncle Douglas is known by simply everyone, you know. I believe your father is the vicar who is also Baron Barthwick of Kildrummy, is that right, Miss Sherbrooke?'

'Yes,' Meggie said, and hated Charlotte Beresford all the way to the soles of her lovely pale gray boots, that perfectly matched her riding gown and that damned artful little hat she wore.

'I have been told that your other uncle, Mr. Ryder Sherbrooke, Jeremy's brother-in-law, has even taken a seat in the House of Commons. So quaint for a younger son, don't you think?'

'Not quaint at all,' Meggie said. Jeremy, who was looking a bit puzzled, hastened to say in the abrupt silence, 'My brother-in-law hates to see children abused. He works tirelessly to abolish child labor.' Charlotte said, 'I am eager to meet him. You and I haven't spoken of it, but I must say that I feel the same way. It makes one want to weep to think of the poor little ones forced to work at looms for untold hours on end.' She nodded to Jeremy but continued to Meggie, 'Jeremy is taking me to Chadwyck House next week to meet his sister and his brother-in-law. And also to Brandon House to meet all the Beloved Ones.'

Meggie wished Charlotte would shut her lovely pink-lipped mouth, particularly since everything that had emerged was filled with kindness and charm. Damn the woman. She was Jeremy's betrothed.

'Meggie,' Jeremy said now, pulling his gelding in beside Eleanor and motioning Charlotte to pull into the other side of her, 'Shall we ride now? You and I can talk about your wild and fractious childhood tonight.' He paused, patted her hand. 'I wanted you so much to meet Charlotte.'

'How very thoughtful of you, Jeremy,' Meggie said, that distant Meggie, not the Meggie who lay in pieces on the ground. When it began to rain a few minutes later, she didn't even blink, just smiled at Jeremy, at Charlotte, and said, 'It is too inclement to ride. Goodbye.'

'Until this evening,' Jeremy called after her. She didn't look back. Her beautiful new riding habit was wet, her riding hat quite ruined, when she finally walked into the Sherbrooke town house. Darby took one look at her and shouted, 'My lady!'

When Alex came out of the library to see Meggie standing there, dripping on the beautiful marble entrance hall, she knew something very bad had happened. Not being a dolt, she knew it had to do with Jeremy Stanton- Greville.

Meggie didn't want to see either Jeremy or Charlotte again, actually, for the rest of her life. No, just Charlotte.

She'd loved him for so long. It didn't matter that she hadn't particularly thought about him for years at a time, all the feelings she'd birthed for him so long ago, had just remained dormant, waiting for her to grow up, waiting to burst into bloom when she was ready to take a husband. And there he'd been. As if Fate had plunked him right down in front of her.

Only he hadn't waited for her.

At that moment she decided she would never again look at a man with anything resembling liking. She would become the premier cat trainer in the entire sport. She would devote her life to the cats and to her parents and brothers. That gave her a bit of a pause. No, it would work. It would be fine. Perhaps when Lady Dauntry retired, she would mount the dais at the McCaulty racetrack and shout, 'Free the Cats!'

She dressed beautifully for dinner. She knew even before she stood in front of her dressing table, ready for company, that she couldn't possibly look finer than she did at this moment. She gave herself a ghastly smile in her mirror. Timma, Aunt Alex's maid, said from behind her, 'The pale pink, it is delightful on you, Miss Sherbrooke.'

'Thank you, Timma.'

'And your lovely hair, I have done an excellent job arranging it, just so.' Timma snapped her fingers.

Meggie tried for a smile, but couldn't find one. 'Thank you, Timma.'

When she went downstairs, Darby was there, as if he'd been waiting specifically for her, she thought, which he had, and allowed him to lead her into the drawing room. Jeremy Stanton-Greville and Miss Charlotte Beresford were there. Uncle Douglas, unbeknownst to her, had invited him to dinner. Jeremy saw her and immediately jumped to his feet. He said as he walked quickly to her, 'You are not thirteen years old any longer, Meggie.' He kissed her hand, hugged her, then stepped back. 'You look quite beautiful.'

'Thank you, Jeremy.'

But she saw that his eyes couldn't even remain on her face for more than an instant, perhaps two, before swinging back to Charlotte, who looked like a princess, sitting there, her lovely dark blue silk skirts fanned out around her, her decolletage not comparing to Aunt Alex's, but still, all that young very white flesh on display would make a man bite his tongue before swallowing it.

She nodded toward Charlotte. 'Good evening, Miss Beresford.'

Charlotte trilled a laugh. 'Come now, we will soon be related. Do call me Charlotte.'

Meggie couldn't say, 'No, you miserable hussy with your big breasts, I would like to shoot an arrow through your heart.' So she merely smiled and nodded. 'No, we won't be related. Jeremy is not a blood cousin,' she said and turned her full and complete attention to her aunt and uncle.

Meggie didn't remember much of the evening when she rode Eleanor the following morning with her aunt and uncle. She wasn't remembering much of this, either. She kept her head down close to Eleanor's sleek brown neck and let the wind rip through her hair.

She wanted to go home but knew she couldn't. It would distress her father and Mary Rose, and Uncle Douglas