ARTEMISIA: a humorous Regency novel (Regency Goddesses Book 1) by DG Rampton

Author:DG Rampton [Rampton, DG]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-10-31T23:00:00+00:00

Artemisia appreciated the attempt to imbue her mother with the finer emotions, however, she was incapable of believing such sentimentality from her parent.

Twenty-Eight

On the following morning, Artemisia awoke in an introspective mood and wanted nothing more than to be alone with her thoughts. She knew Aunt Ophelia could not be relied upon to keep to her bed after a late night, and so she gave up the thought of breakfast and decided to go riding.

After instructing a footman to notify the mews that she required her horse, she withdrew to the library, with Michelangelo for company, to compose a letter to her uncle. Pen poised, she stared at the blank page before her, uncertain what to say to him about last night’s revelations. In the end, she was spared from having to write anything by the entrance of the butler, who told her that her horse was waiting for her outside.

With a sigh of relief, she rose and left the room.

Michelangelo did his best to follow her but found his way barred by Crossley. After several attempts to escape between the butler’s legs, he succeeded in getting himself picked up, deposited back inside the library and shut in.

Oblivious to the skirmish within between beast and butler, Artemisia offered the head groom a smile. ‘Good morning, Roger. Horrid weather isn’t it?’ she said, wrinkling her nose up at the dark clouds to be seen in all directions.

‘Not at all a good day for riding, miss, if you don’t mind me saying so,’ he replied. ‘Perhaps it be best if we leave off for another day?’

‘Oh no! We can’t be so poor-spirited as to allow a few dark clouds to put us off. Besides, we shan’t be long. I promise to have you back before the rain comes.’

‘No need for you to be worrying ‘bout me, miss,’ he told her as he helped her to mount. ‘I’m used to riding in much worse.’

True to her word, she only allowed herself one quick circumnavigation of the park before heading for home.

They had almost reached Crown Street when she caught sight of Mr Breashall, waving to her from the opposite side of the street. Lord Chysm’s warning sprung to mind and, for a moment, she thought to pretend not to have seen him. However, she quickly discarded this course of action, thinking it ridiculous, and reined in.

As the groom pulled up beside her, she said under her breath: ‘Roger, if I’m unable to extricate myself quickly, please come to my aid.’

‘Good morning, Miss Grantley,’ greeted Mr Breashall warmly, tipping his hat as he came up to her.

‘Good morning, Mr Breashall,’ she returned politely. ‘Did you enjoy the ball last night?’

‘I cannot in all honesty say that I enjoyed the second half as much as I enjoyed the first, in your company.’

His flirtatious banter did not have the desired effect. The object of his gallantry was left wondering why in the world she had found him fascinating only a day previously.

When she smiled lightly and did not offer up a response, he changed course.

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