Free The Last of Lady Lansdown by Shirley Kennedy Page A

He reached for the saddle.
    “No!” The word escaped her mouth before she could stop it. Why couldn’t she go riding with whomever she pleased? Just once. No one would see them on the secluded river trail. “Leave the saddle. I have changed my mind.”
    “What is this?” Cartland’s eyes squinted in mock surprise. “A change of heart?”
    She lifted her chin. “Not that I was in the least bit influenced by,” she held up her hands and ticked off an exaggerated one-two-three with her fingers, “your so-called persuasive arguments, of which there is absolutely no truth, by the way. I simply changed my mind, that’s all.”
    “Then let’s go riding, shall we?”
    “How wonderful to have Beauty back again!” Jane called to Douglas Cartland who rode beside her on his own horse, Thunder, a beautiful thoroughbred with a shiny black coat. “I love this trail.” There could not be a more beautiful spot on earth than the riding path that followed the lazy current of the River Hulm upstream. At times they rode not more than a few feet away from the blue ribbon of water. Other times the path cut away and led them through dense woods where pine and poplars grew, where green moss and lichen made a soft, silent carpet on the forest floor. Time and again Jane reached for Beauty’s withers and stroked her long, silken hair. In return, Beauty would give a nod and a snort, as if she knew her beloved mistress was riding her again. At times Jane and Cartland brought their horses to a gallop. She would laugh from sheer joy, every care forgotten as she tore up the path, her beloved horse beneath her, the sun in her face, her loose auburn hair streaming behind her in the breeze.
    After they had ridden for at least an hour, they came to a shady forest glade that overlooked the river. Such a beautiful spot.
    Douglas called, “Here’s where we stop. Are you hungry?”
    “Starving.” She wondered what he meant. There was no food around here. They were in the middle of nowhere.
    He swung off his horse and came to assist her. “I don’t know how you women put up with these ridiculous side saddles.” She was about to inform him that she could easily dismount by herself, but before she could, he gripped her waist and swung her down. Other than that one dance years ago, it was the very first time he touched her. She laughed to herself, amused that such an irrelevant fact should enter her head. Perhaps it had to do with her liking the feel of his strong hands and sure grip around her waist.
    “Tie your horse. We will sit under that tree over there.” He pointed to a large oak that grew on a grassy knoll overlooking the river.
    She tethered Beauty to the sturdy branch of a small pine tree and stood waiting while Douglas reached into his saddle bags. He pulled out a small blanket, which he proceeded to spread under the tree. He gave an exaggerated bow and broad sweep of his arm. “Do have a seat, Your Ladyship.” Amused, she settled herself upon the blanket and watched while he returned to his horse and pulled a large packet from his saddle bag. He brought it back and set it in the middle of the blanket. Pulling out items one by one, he announced, “We have bread, cheese, fruit and chicken, all prepared by Rennie’s cook, Mrs. Groton, who happens to be one of the best cooks in the world. And,” he held up a sterling silver hip flask “a bit of brandy to keep us warm in case a storm should strike.”
    “It’s July.”
    “This is England. You never know.” With a flourish he unfolded two linen napkins and placed one in front of her. “The table is set. Let’s eat.”
    Famished, she dug in, soon concluding that she had dined on many a fancy meal in her life but nothing as good as this simple picnic by the river.
    “Mmm, it all tastes wonderful. The chicken, everything.” She popped a bit of cheese into her mouth.
    Sitting across from her, he uncapped the flask and poured brandy into a small sterling silver cup. “Wash it