A Most Improper Proposal by Molly Ann Wishlade

A Most Improper Proposal by Molly Ann Wishlade

Author:Molly Ann Wishlade [Wishlade, Molly Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781474008464
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2014-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Thirteen

Isabella’s knees knocked together as she stood waiting outside the stable block at Lord Crawford’s country estate. She was wrapped up warmly against the bitterly cold air that warned of the approaching autumn but she felt chilled to the bone and she struggled to control her shivering limbs.

At her side, Henrietta stood trembling also, but the girl’s shaking was due to excitement. She could barely stand still for the anticipation that bubbled away and frequently burst out in excitable gasps and sighs. Isabella wished that she could share her positivity but she was absolutely terrified of what was to come.

‘Oh Isabella!’ her companion exclaimed.

‘What is it now, Henrietta?’ Isabella questioned through gritted teeth. Her fear was making her irritable.

‘Are you not just bursting with eagerness?’

‘I am afraid not,’ Isabella confessed.

‘But everything is so perfect.’ Henrietta bounced up and down.

‘It is?’

‘Oh, yes, Isabella. You are every bit the lady in your new riding habit.’

Isabella smiled in spite of her nerves and stretched out her left leg a little to admire the fall of her gown. The long blue skirt fell gracefully from her neat waist to her ankles and as she extended her leg she could see the toes of her black Spanish half boots. From the waist up, she was clothed in a white muslin shirt and blue wool corbeau jacket with a black velvet collar and double rows of gilt buttons. Her hair was pulled back low on her neck into a chignon and perched upon the top of her chestnut waves was a round beaver close cap adorned with a feather at the front. In her hands clothed in fine brown leather gloves she gripped a riding crop tightly, holding onto it as if to steady her nerves.

‘Thank you, Henrietta. It was most kind of Lady Watson to provide us with new riding habits for the occasion. Yours becomes you also.’

Henrietta gave a curtsey then a twirl, causing her lavender wool skirt – identical to Isabella’s in length and style – to balloon around her legs. As she stopped she giggled breathlessly then waved her own riding crop.

‘I am just so excited that this day has finally arrived.’

Isabella’s stomach churned and she hoped that she would not actually vomit. That would be most embarrassing and unfortunate.

‘I wish that I could share your happiness today, Henrietta but I am afeard that I shall fall or slip or do something else to ruin the experience.’

Henrietta reached out a hand and squeezed Isabella’s, causing Isabella to grip the riding crop even tighter.

‘It will be fine, dear Isabella. I am convinced that you will be a most excellent horsewoman.’

‘I wish that I shared your confidence,’ Isabella confessed.

A noise from the stables increased Isabella’s trembling and she blinked at the moisture brimming in her eyes. She willed herself to be strong; she would try hard, for Lord Crawford had gone to a lot of trouble to organise the day.

Her head snapped up at a loud, deep laugh from the opening stable door and she bit her lip as the familiar tall, dark figure appeared.



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