“Oh, I know the one you mean, and I noticed your reaction to him. He was wearing his regimental dress although, according to Mama, he is an earl.”
Lilian was not surprised Lydia knew exactly the man she remembered. It had been the last ball of the Season. She drew in a breath, recalling how she had noticed him the moment he had entered the room.
“I will admit I wished he would ask me to dance, but he and his friend did not seem to remain long.”
“Quite. I noticed him watching you and thought he would ask to be introduced, but then his friend came back with glasses of champagne, said something to him and they left.”
“Perhaps there was an emergency.” Her mind flitted back to that night. “They were both interesting, but so were several others. I noticed you seemed taken with Viscount Yarstone.” Although she spoke the words, Lilian’s mind was still on the gentleman in the regimentals.
“Do come down from the clouds, sister,” Lydia teased.
Wrinkling her nose at Lydia, Lilian gave her horse a slight nudge, sending him into a canter. Her hat came off and she felt her hair fall from its pins until her long auburn brown curls were flowing behind her. She did not care. She had Danby, and she was here on this glorious morning. It was all that mattered.
Her sister looked behind them. “Good heavens! Barney is keeping up!” Immodestly, Lydia yelled across the space between them, gesturing with a jerk of her head and obviously goading Lilian to look.
Instead, Lilian sniggered in a rude way and gave Danby another nudge. Her brown gelding ran faster, forcing Lydia and her chestnut to race to catch them. It felt wondrous. The two sisters rode across the crest of the hill for a good while, deftly dodging trees, fences and outcrops of rock—doggedly followed, some distance behind, by their groom. Low shrubs and weathered post-and-rail fencing bordered one edge of the path they followed, and masses of coloured flowers covered the ground, gradually disappearing from sight.
A more wooded area appeared in a bend in the track ahead of them, and as they approached, a loud shot rang out. Danby shied violently sideways and with a shrill squeal of distress, reared high on his back legs.
“Lilian!” Lydia cried out.
Lilian heard her sister’s cry and was dimly aware of her struggles to gain control over Ginger, but her own struggle to maintain her seat was failing. Somehow, her legs loosened from the pommels of her side-saddle when the horse rose, and she fought to keep her balance. Danby lost his footing and as he toppled, the force of him hitting the earth tossed her to the ground. She landed on a stone, or something equally hard, the momentum then rolling her across the rough ground until she thudded into a large rock. She heard her own scream pierce the air.
Lydia and the groom tried to lift her, but she screamed in pain at their touch. Although she could see them speaking to her, their voices sounded distant. Her vision was growing darker and she could barely see; she was viewing their faces and the sky behind them through a small, dark hole which kept shrinking. Her world was growing dark. Her head and her back ached fiercely. Her ears were ringing. She wanted to scream and tried yet could hear nothing. Pain throbbed from every part of her body. She tried to move, to get up, but her feet…what was wrong with her feet? They were not moving. What had she done? Her head pounded, and warm liquid ran down the side of her face. A large warm hand grasped hers and at last she heard voices.
“Lady Lilian, can you hear me?”
“Lilian, please speak to me.” Wet drops hit Lilian’s face. Her sister was crying, it seemed. Whatever had happened to her, it must be bad.
She tried to open her eyes but could see naught but blackness. I am so tired.
“We heard a shot and then saw the horses. We came to help.” A strong, masculine voice penetrated the fog in her head. Who was this? She could hear only snippets of the conversation because of the ringing in her ears.
“Lady Lilian, we must move you…”
“...gown ripped…”
“...back of gown wet with blood.”
Are they talking about me?
Lilian felt herself being lifted and then coming to rest against a warm body. The horse shifted beneath them and was soothed with a soft murmur. She could smell the comforting aroma of its sweat, and shivered. Why was she so cold? She recognized her sister’s voice, but her garbled words were disjointed.
A light scent of bay leaf and bergamot teased her nose. Gentlemen’s and lady’s colognes had been in abundance during her coming out, and had mostly tortured her senses, but this was one she liked. How odd that both scents were conveyed so distinctly. Nothing was making sense. What was happening? She felt helpless and trapped, now unable to see or hear, and fought against the urge to cry out. A rich voice above her calmed her trembling, and she found she could breathe. She could not hear what was being said, but the voice was soothing. Exhausted, Lilian leaned her head into the warm body holding her and gave in to the darkness that beckoned.
Chapter 1
London, England
Early August 1816
“Lilian, you look beautiful in Grandmama’s antique pearls.” Lydia, her twin, stood behind her and secured the clasp as Lilian stared at her reflection. “Grammy would want you to wear them when you meet your Prince Charming,” her sister whispered, adding the matching pearl hair pins in her coiffure.
“Ouch!” Lilian gasped. “Do we have to wear these fripperies?” she challenged, struggling to keep the irritated tone from her voice. “Lydia, you promised not to ask this of me again, as long as I attended this ball—this one ball. I have your word.” She slightly turned her head and met her sister’s knowing smile. “Lydia, I insist.
