Page 5 of When a Duke Desires a Lass

Hoofbeats approaching at a sedate pace echoed nearby.

As one, the small crowd turned to where the runaway horse and rider advanced at a serene gait. A far cry from the out-of-control beast that had thundered by mere minutes ago. However had the horseman managed to rein the stallion in?

Their return was unexpected but not unwelcome.

Emily had expected both to be halfway to Green Park by now. Or the other side of London. It showed courage and decency to return to the scene where you’d nearly trampled someone.

Shamefaced and still rather pale, the youth glanced between Emily and the duke and then settled his attention on Emily again.

“I’m awfully sorry, miss.” The young man cut Heatherston a fretful glance. “I underestimated Spiorad’s stubbornness and determination to take his head. He has a good heart but is a bit hardheaded.”

“A lot like ye,” the duke muttered beneath his breath as he ran his fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

Tucking his chin to his chest and looking suitably contrite, the youth patted the horse’s sweaty neck.

Sweat glistening off his coat, the creature seemed the modicum of docility now.

“Well, I should be going, I suppose. Spiorad could use more exercise.” Expertly reining the horse around, the young man made to depart.

“Nae!”

The single syllable cracked through the air like a gunshot.

Heatherston’s jaw grew tense, and displeasure shone in his startlingly attractive eyes.

Why was Emily noticing his eyes?

Perhaps she’d hit her head after all and was slightly dazed.

“I warned ye, Avery, not to ride him. Ye could’ve hurt or killed Mrs. Glenville or Spiorad with your recklessness.”

Avery paled and swallowed. Shifting in the saddle, he eyed the small crowd, all of whom leveled justifiable, accusatory glares at him.

“I apologized, Uncle Tobias.” Avery thrust his chin out and swept a hand toward Emily. “No harm was done. She’s right as rain.”

Emily didn’t agree with that assessment.

Wait?

Uncle Tobias?

Emily narrowed her eyes and skimmed her glance over the youth. His eyes were the exact same shade of blue as Heatherston’s. Unusual, but not remarkable. He wore a nondescript cap shoved low on his forehead, an ordinary, baggy navy woolen jacket, and black breeches tucked into small, knee-high boots.

Emily stifled a gasp.

Women’s boots.

How could she have missed something so obvious?

The fair skin? The slim build? The reddish-brown winged brows, almost the same color as her uncle’s?

This was no lad but a young lady.

A very unladylike young lady from all appearances.

Heatherston sent his commanding gaze around the gawking onlookers. “Thank ye for your concern. It is much appreciated. Ye may be about your business now. As ye can see, all is well.”

The duke effectively dismissed them. Hands on his hips, he waited for the spectators to wander away. His pantaloons bore grass stains, but even so, he presented an imposing figure.