And why was the man not leaping from the saddle to help her to her feet and assure himself that he had not done her any fatal injury, as any true gentleman would?
“Tramp,” she said firmly, though certainly not in obedience to the rider’s command. “That is quite enough!”
A rabbit chose that moment to pop up on the horizon, ears pointed at the heavens, and Tramp dashed off in joyful pursuit, still barking and still convinced he could win the race.
“You might have killed me with your irresponsible stunt,” Samantha shouted above the din. “Are you quite mad?”
The gentleman on the horse’s back glared coldly at her. “If you are unable to control that pathetic excuse for a dog,” he said, “you really ought not to bring him out where he can upset horses and livestock and endanger human life.”
“Livestock?” She looked pointedly to left and right to indicate that there was nary a cow or bull in sight. “He endangered human life? Your own, I suppose you mean, since mine clearly means nothing to you. Allow me to pose a question. Was it you, sir, or was it Tramp who chose with reckless unconcern to jump a hedge without first ascertaining that it was safe to do so? And was it you or he who then hurled the blame upon the innocent person who was almost killed? And upon a dog which was happily at play until he had the life virtually scared out of him?”
She got to her feet without taking her eyes off him—and without wincing over what felt like a bruised tail-bone. Perhaps it was a good thing he had not dismounted to help her up, she thought as wrath took the place of terror. She might have smacked his face, and that must certainly be against the rules of propriety for a lady, not to mention a widow in deep mourning.
His nostrils flared as he listened to her, and his lips compressed into a thin line as he looked down at her as though she were a nasty worm it might have been better that his horse had trodden upon.
“I trust,” he said with stiff formality, “you have not come to any great harm, ma’am? I assume not, though, since you are quite capable of speech.”
She narrowed her eyes and bent upon him her most cold and haughty stare, though she was aware that the thickness of her veil probably marred its full effect.
Tramp came dashing back without the rabbit. He had stopped barking. She rested a hand on his head as he sat panting beside her, eyeing horse and rider eagerly as though they might be new friends.
Samantha and the rider regarded each other for a few silent moments, which nevertheless bristled with mutual hostility. Then he abruptly touched his whip to the brim of his tall hat, turned his horse, and rode away at a canter without another word, leaving her the clear victor of the field.
Well.
Well!
Her bosom still heaved with ire. Woman, indeed. And blasted animal. And damn it.
He was a stranger—at least she thought he was since she had certainly never set eyes upon him before. A thoroughly disagreeable stranger. She fervently hoped he would keep on riding until he was far, far away and never return. He was no gentleman despite his looks, which suggested the contrary. He had done something unpardonably reckless, with results that might have been fatal had she been standing six feet farther to the east. Yet she and Tramp were to blame. And though he had asked, or rather trusted, that she had taken no harm, he had not got down from his saddle to find out at closer quarters. And then he had had the effrontery to assume that she must be unharmed, since she could still talk. As if she were some kind of shrew.
It really was a shame that good looks and elegance and an overall appearance of masculine virility were wasted on such a nasty, cold, arrogant, villainous sort of man. He was good-looking, she admitted when she thought about him, even if his face was a trifle too lean and angular for true handsomeness. And he was youngish. She guessed he was not much above thirty, if he was even that old.
He had an impressive vocabulary, almost none of which she would have understood if she had not spent a year with Matthew’s regiment before they were sent off to the Peninsula. And he had used it in a lady’s hearing—without apologizing, as the officers of the regiment had always done quite effusively when they realized they had cursed within half a mile of a lady’s ears.
She sincerely hoped she would never encounter him again. She might be tempted to give him the full length of her tongue if she did.
“Well, pathetic excuse for a dog,” she said, looking down at Tramp, “our one foray into the peace and freedom of the outdoors almost ended in disaster. Behold my posy scattered to the four winds. Father-in-Law would lecture me for a fortnight if he were to hear about this adventure, especially if he knew I had scolded a gentleman instead of hanging my head meekly and allowing him to scold me. Do not, I pray you, breathe a word of this to Matilda. She would have a migraine and a sick headache combined—after berating me, that is, and writing a long letter home. You do not suppose they can be right, do you, Tramp? That I am not a proper lady, I mean? I suppose my origins are against me, as the Earl of Heathmoor was pleased to inform me with tedious regularity once upon a time, but really … Woman and damn it. And you a blasted animal. I have been severely provoked. We have been.”
Tramp, apparently more forgiving than she, fell into step beside her and refrained from offering an opinion.
3
Guilt and shame quickly hurled cold water on the embers of Ben’s fury.
The humiliating truth, he admitted, was that he had frightened himself more than half to death when he jumped that damned hedge. He had been back to riding for some time, having discovered that he could both mount and dismount with the aid of a special block. He had learned to ride with some skill and confidence despite the fact that he did not have as much power in his thighs as he had used to have. But today was the first time since his cavalry days that he had challenged himself to jump a fence or hedge.