Page 96 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘Perhaps you ought to be led,’ Ashford suggested, all faux sympathy. ‘Would that make you feel more comfortable?’

This proved to be an overstep.

‘Thank you so much, my lord,’ Miss Hanworth sang out sweetly, ‘that would be marvellous.’

‘I did not mean—’ Ashford began, for plodding along at Bumper’s speed was not exactly his idea of a good ride.

‘It is so kind,’ Miss Hanworth said. ‘That way, I need not trouble the rest of the group to wait for us.’

‘A famous idea,’ Sir Waldo said cheerfully.

‘Very kind of you, Ashford!’ Mr Brandon said, reaching over to clap him on the back as he passed.

Ashford ceded to his fate, accepting the reins when they were taken over Bumper’s head and held out to him without further complaint.

‘Congratulations,’ he said, once the rest of the party was out of earshot. ‘You have managed to ruin even riding.’

‘This is your design, not mine,’ Miss Hanworth said. ‘You should have thought ahead.’

‘I could lead you into a bog, you know,’ he threatened, brandishing Bumper’s reins at her.

Bumper, taking exception to his tone, drew to a stubborn halt and began yanking his head this way and that.

‘Give me back the reins,’ Miss Hanworth instructed him.

‘He’s a stubborn mule,’ he warned her, tossing them over.

‘He just dislikes you,’ Lydia said. ‘That, in my view, makes him a very good judge of character.’

‘The enemy of mine enemy,’ Ashford said, smiling a little despite himself.

Released from Ashford’s hold, Bumper deigned to move on, and they jostled along in silence, at radically different heights but with identical grumpy scowls.

Ashford could not help it: he began to laugh.

Miss Hanworth turned to look at him.

‘What?’ she demanded.

‘We must look as though we have escaped the circus,’ he said, gesturing between them. ‘A stranger pair of riders I am certain I have never seen.’

She began to grin, too – and it suited her even better than the scowl.

‘Where did you find him?’ she asked. ‘I can’t imagine Sir Waldo buying a horse named Bumper.’

‘He didn’t,’ Ashford said. ‘We had to borrow him from one of the farmers.’

‘I hope you went to a great deal of pain and effort,’ she said.

‘As much as you did,’ he said, ‘organizing my current wardrobe.’

Her smile widened to a grin. ‘I cannot believe you are wearing them.’

‘You did not leave me much choice,’ he said. ‘Though I warn you, if your hat ends up in a pond, again, you shall be retrieving it yourself – there is no world in which I will be removing my boots.’

‘You do not wish everyone to see your ankles?’ she said, with mock gravity.

‘I should hate to cause a stir.’