“I think I shall have my hair washed as well, Edwards. Perhaps you should cut it for me; it has become far too long and straggly, has it not?”

Two hours later Lady Althea was resting comfortably in her sitting-room, her hair freshly styled and her navy blue eyes alert. She was awaiting a visit from her younger daughters. What had become of Emily, she had no idea. Edwards had sent a message with one of the chambermaids to her room but had found it unoccupied.

Serena and Millie were outside in the passageway and she smiled to think that now her precious girls would be able to grow up in the same luxurious surroundings as she had. If she had had any inkling of exactly what her normally sensible and sedate eldest daughter was doing, at that very moment, she would have been horrified.

*  *  *

Sultan stamped his huge hooves impatiently, he was eager to return to his cosy stable. Being ignored again, he snatched his bridle from his master's hand stretching his nose high into the air. It had the desired effect.

“Stand, sir. Enough of that nonsense.” Sebastian said, laughing at his mount's antics.

“I believe he's trying to tell you that he wishes to be in his stable, not standing about here.”

Emily reached up and stroked the velvety nose. She was already in love with this horse. She would dearly love to ride him but knew her cousin would never agree to such a thing. But something prompted her to ask.

“Would you permit me to ride Sultan? He's similar to the stallion I was forced to sell after my father died.”

Sebastian's eyebrows shot up under his hair. “Good God! Are you saying you have ridden such an animal yourself?”

Emily laughed, delighted she had surprised her cousin. “Indeed I have; and I'm not ashamed to say that I always rode astride. I have a habit specially made for that purpose.”

“I do not believe it. No girl alive could ride a horse like Sultan safely.” She bristled and her smile vanished. How dare he call her a liar! Emily threw back her head and challenged him.

“Give me a leg up and you will see just how wrong you are.”

For a moment Sebastian hesitated; it was an outrageous suggestion. Then he saw the fury in her remarkable eyes and decided it would not hurt her to learn a sharp lesson. He would call her bluff.

“Very well; we will take him somewhere safer. The back paddock will do.” He viewed her dusty old-fashioned dress as they walked towards the field. “Do you to need to change into your habit?”

She shook her head. “No, this skirt is full enough; I shall manage.”

Sultan, on discovering he was not to be put into his box, began to show his displeasure by sidling and throwing his head about. Emily was beginning to regret her rash decision but she would not back down; she wished her cousin to discover that, unlike the usual debutantes, there was more to her than feminine fripperies and inane chatter.

It quite escaped her attention that so far, in their brief acquaintance, she had not shown the slightest sign of being either feminine or a chatterbox.

“Are you certain you wish to go through with this, cousin? I will quite understand if you feel you are not up to riding Sultan when he is in this mood.” If he had not accompanied the suggestion with a superior smile Emily might have agreed. In spite of her prowess as a horse woman, she was starting to think that she would not be unable to a control the overexcited animal.

“No, definitely not. I have said I shall ride him and ride him I shall.” They had reached the three acre meadow in which the house cows and miscellaneous poultry lived. The gate latch was stiff and Sultan refused to stand still and allow Sebastian to open it. Without a second thought Emily stepped up and removed the bridle from her cousin's hand.

“Stop that, silly boy!” she murmured as she walked him in a small, tight circle. The horse was so surprised to be led by such a small human that he lowered his huge head and nuzzled her back. “That's better; I don't understand what all the fuss is about.”

“The gate is open. Bring him in,” Sebastian snapped, annoyed that his horse was behaving like a donkey with his smug cousin.

Emily led Sultan into the field and heard the gate clang with an unnecessarily loud bang behind her, making Sultan shy violently, lifting her off her feet for a second.

“It's all right, boy, it's only a silly gate. Slammed by a silly person. Calm down now.”

Sebastian almost snatched the reins back. “You had better adjust the leathers to suit you. I shall hold him for you.”

She held the stirrup under her arm, the quickest way to judge the length she needed, and moved the buckle up five holes. She went round to alter the other and was then ready to mount. She knew Sebastian was expecting her to back down; she would not give him the satisfaction. She gathered up the reins. She could barely reach the horses withers; she bent back her leg and felt

Sebastian take it and then she was in the saddle and Sultan was her responsibility.

She settled herself more securely and slackened the reins, allowing Sultan to flex his neck, or had he so desired, to take hold of the bit and bolt off with her. She heard a sharp intake of breath beside her and knew her cousin was regretting his rash move and was about to step back and grab the bridle.

She clicked her tongue and squeezed her legs firmly and the horse moved away smoothly into a perfect, balanced trot. Emily relaxed; the handsome chestnut was a joy to ride, the most responsive mount she had ever had

She pushed him into a canter and took him in a figure of eight around the paddock. On the second circuit she asked him for a flying change and he obliged. She forgot everything in the exhilaration of the experience. She was unaware that she was showing an indecent amount of leg or that she had attracted a large audience of grooms and stable hands as word of her exploits had spread round the yard.

She rode Sultan for twenty minutes before deciding it was time to allow him to return to his box. After all, he had already been ridden hard by his owner all afternoon. She reined in smoothly at the gate, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling. It was only then she noticed the row of grinning faces lined up against the fence.

Good heavens, had the entire staff of Westerham come out to see her? She also became aware that her cousin was not sharing her pleasure. Sebastian was standing, arms folded, his full lips curled in supercilious disdain.

Her heart plummeted. Why had she allowed pride to push her into such a situation? She could feel the warm afternoon breeze cooling her bare calves and knew she had made a dreadful error of judgement. In the space of twenty short minutes she had destroyed her precious reputation. She had also brought disgrace to her mother and her grandfather.

Shamefaced, she did not wait for assistance to dismount. She swung her leg over the saddle and dropped expertly to the ground. She patted Sultan's neck, after all it was not his fault she had made an exhibition of herself and outwardly calm she handed his reins to a waiting groom.

Without bothering to speak she turned and walked through the open gate, and head held high, the sun glinting on her russet hair, she stalked, apparently unconcerned, back to the house.

Once inside she flew up the stairs and ran along the passageways. It was far too late to worry about scandalizing the staff with such immodest behaviour. Her sitting room was mercifully empty; at least her sisters were not there to witness her humiliation. She found her maid in the box room that was now her own.

“Jenny, can you prepare me a hot bath. I shall not get dressed again. I'm going to retire. I have a severe megrim.”

Her abigail wisely refrained from commenting on the fact that her mistress smelled strongly of horse and her once clean dress was now liberally covered with chestnut hair. Nor did she remind Emily that it was her sister Amelia who normally suffered from sick headaches, not her.

Somewhat restored by her total immersion in warm water, Emily retired to her imposing, old-fashioned, four-poster bed, and firmly pulled the heavy damask curtains around her. She had always considered such beds as suitable only for elderly folk but that afternoon she was grateful she could hide in the privacy the drapes created.

In the pink gloom, little sunlight filtered through the heavy material, she sat and considered her position. She had been at Westerham scarcely a day and had already managed to offend just about everyone she had met. She had vomited in the bushes in front of Mr Foster, caused her grandfather to lose his temper and offended her, extremely high in the instep, Cousin Sebastian, not once but twice.

It was a good thing she no longer had to persuade him to marry her. She would never forget the look of absolute disgust on his face as he leant casually against the paddock fence. It would be forever etched on her mind. She did not care that he held her in dislike for her opinion of him was equally dismal.

However the good opinion of both her mother and grandfather were quite a different matter. Her behaviour would have been considered unacceptable even for Millie. And as she was still legally under the control of the earl, he could administer whatever punishment he felt she deserved. If it had been Amelia at fault she supposed he could order a sound spanking, but she was reasonably sure she would be considered too old to receive such treatment.

Slowly her lips curled in a rueful smile. She was actually disciplining herself. After all she had put herself to bed at five o'clock in the afternoon without any supper, had she not? As her empty stomach grumbled alarmingly, she realized it was going to be a very long and uncomfortable time until breakfast.