Bride of Danger by Katherine O'Neal

Author:Katherine O'Neal [O'Neal, Katherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, General
ISBN: 9780553573794
Google: W1I3FNRAdbwC
Amazon: 0553573799
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 1997-07-14T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

The day of the hunt dawned cloudy with the tang of rain in the air. Early that morning, because she’d slept little, Mylene went down for tea and overheard William and Katharine speaking in hushed tones, wondering if, under the circumstances, they should proceed as planned.

“I’m no happier with this turn of events than you, my dear,” she heard William say. “But as you so aptly reminded us, we have an obligation to our other guests. We must set the tone for their sakes, as well as our own. If we cancel now, we shall be viewed as the most unseemly of hosts.”

Mylene crept away, feeling the way a leper must feel when hearing her condition discussed in the form of charity.

Later, when she came down again, she found the hunt already in progress. The horses were saddled, the caged dogs barked and jumped and scrambled over one another in anticipation. Bedlam was the order of the morning, distracting the guests from the scandal of the night before, as the men dressed and sought out whips and spurs, while the women bustled about serving mugs of ale to fortify the adventurers. A hunt was normally a day of celebration, and the still reeling guests were doing their best to rally for the sake of their hosts. Many of the country folk from the village and farmers under the Helmsleys’ patronage had shown up to cheer the hunters on. Some brought carts to follow in their wake. Others trudged out beneath the heavy clouds to place themselves along the acreage, to wait and applaud when the hunters galloped by. Those who could joined in, accepting the timeworn hospitality of their squire on this, the final hunt before the London season, when the Helmsleys and those country gentry who could afford it would abandon the provinces and troop into town. And before Lord Stanley made his much anticipated excursion to Dublin the following week to view the Irish situation firsthand.

“I feel a storm in the air,” someone remarked over the din, causing Mylene to wonder if he meant the weather or Roger’s sullen mood.

William did his best to carry the day. “What’s a little storm? Only adds to the challenge, what, lads?”

The men added cheery comments, but the gaiety seemed forced to Mylene’s sensitive ears.

For the most part, the women would stay behind. A few of the daughters, young and hardy enough to withstand the rigors, like Mylene, would ride with the pack, although the hunt itself was considered masculine domain. Despite the pall of Johnny’s announcement, the group began to pick up the excitement of the anticipated sport. Old men strutted like adolescents, calling to one another with a boisterous pitch to their voices. They began to look crazed, caught up in the blood lust that seized them at thoughts of besting the fox and proving that they were good Englishmen, all. It never ceased to astonish Mylene that these men, so refined in normal circumstances that their conversation teetered

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