Free Araminta (Regency Belles Series Book 2) by Caroline Ashton Page A

barouche. Her fingers twitched on the reins. The temptation to urge Pegasus to the gallop was almost insupportable. Only the most stringent of warnings from Wilhelmina prevented her from shaking the fidgets out of the horse and herself. She leant towards the carriage.
    ‘When did you say it was permissible to gallop, ma’am?’
    ‘In the very earliest of mornings only. You will ruin yourself completely if you do so at any other time.’
    A decision hovered in Araminta’s mind. Did she want to gallop? Most certainly. Did she mind being ruined? Not really.
    Wilhelmina Orksville regarded her charge’s face. The thoughts passing behind it could not have been more obvious. ‘Your Papa would be most upset were you to do so now. Your future happiness and welfare is his greatest concern.’
    Araminta’s head drooped. More than once she had seen the look of pride on his face when he presented her to one friend or another. No, disappointing Pa – Papa – was not to be thought of. Her head came up. She looked around. The day was fine; the sun was shining; she had a beautiful horse that she would certainly gallop at some time. She was very fortunate. A worm of an idea wriggled into her head. The slightest pressure on the reins slowed Pegasus. He shook his head, flicking his white mane into ripples.
    The groom’s horse drew level. Araminta lowered her voice. ‘See how impatient he is,’ she murmured. ‘He most decidedly needs to gallop.’
    Visions of instant dismissal flooded the groom’s mind again. His hands loosened on the reins, ready to grab at hers. ‘Oh, miss, ma’am – you’re not gonna gallop him, are you?’
    ‘No of course not. Or at least not now. Tomorrow morning. Bring him to the house at seven of the clock if you please. We shall come here then. Galloping will be quite unexceptional.’
    The expression on the groom’s face flashed from relieved to anxious. Words of caution hovered on his lips. A sideways glance at the young miss’s delicate chin, determinedly raised, pushed him to silence.
    Araminta flicked the reins and drew Pegasus level with the barouche once more.
    The groom bit his lip.
    He was still biting it at seven o’clock the next morning after a night of restless sleep haunted by dreams of unseated and injured young ladies. Hovering outside the front door he hoped against hope that this one was still under her quilt, fast in the land of Nod.
    He hoped in vain. A drowsy footman opened the door and the golden vision emerged. The groom leapt down and tied both horses to the black-painted railings.
    ‘Excellent.’ Araminta surveyed the skies. ‘It’s a wonderful morning. I shall enjoy a gallop.’ She raised her left foot.
    The groom hurriedly bent and linked his hands into a stirrup. With the lightest of pressure upon it, Araminta sprang into the saddle. Taking the reins when his fumbling fingers had untied them, she turned Pegasus away from the house.
    The groom’s nag attempted to follow. A shake of its head had the reins sliding loose. It managed two steps before the groom caught up the trailing reins. With one foot stuck into the stirrup, he was obliged to hop along the flagstones until he could heave himself aboard. Muttering foully, he set off after Araminta, fearing for his job. Only yesterday the old maid had insisted she drive alongside in the carriage. Now it was just him and the girl. His teeth tore at his left thumbnail.
    The town house Archibald had rented was on the west side of the square, a little way up from the corner with King Street. King Street was the home of a notorious house no respectable woman would pass let alone enter, and led into the equally-notorious male dominion of St James’s Street. Only the house’s distance from the corner had relieved Wilhelmina Orksville’s concern.
    Bearing in mind the stringent instruction she had received to avoid the area at all times, Araminta crossed the square towards Piccadilly. Pegasus tossed his head and skittered his