Free The Dark Lady's Mask by Mary Sharratt Page A

only witness in horror as her mare tossed her head and threw little bucks as she pranced alongside the stallion.
In season.
So that was what it meant. Bathsheba wanted only to mate.
No, no, no,
Aemilia thought, panic rising in her gorge.
    Master Wingfield cantered up and seized Bathsheba’s bridle, yanking her to a halt. Sliding from the saddle, Aemilia collapsed in the grass and wept in humiliation.
    â€œFeed that ill-bred creature to the hounds!” Lady Mary roared.
    Is she talking about Bathsheba or me?
Aemilia wondered.
    Struggling to control his stallion, Perry laughed so hard he nearly came off. “Pray God, our gentle Amy has better morals than her fat little mare.”
    Just when Aemilia thought her heart couldn’t sink any further, she saw Bathsheba squeal and hold her tail to the side, wantonly exposing her nether regions to the stallion. Perry could only force his horse around and ride for home, laughing all the way.
    Lady Susan pulled Aemilia out of the grass and brushed the tears from her face. “It’s my fault. I should have listened to the groom and set you on another horse.”
    Dazed, Aemilia could only thank her stars that Lady Susan was sweeter tempered than Lady Mary who would probably never speak to her again, no matter how many apologies Aemilia offered or how many madrigals she sang.
    â€œWell ridden,” Susan said to Master Wingfield, touching his arm. “A cavalry officer couldn’t have done better.”
    Aemilia watched her schoolmaster’s face flush to hear Susan’s praise.
    â€œThank you, Master Wingfield,” Aemilia said fervently. She didn’t dare think what might have happened if he hadn’t been able to bring Bathsheba under control.
    Bathsheba nuzzled Aemilia’s hair and the crook of her neck, as though wondering what the tears and fuss were about.
    Â 
    A FTER DELIVERING THE HORSES to the groom, Lady Susan and Master Wingfield returned to the house. But Aemilia, still reeling from her disgrace, retreated to the Duchess’s rose garden, where she hunched on a bench and listened to the gushing fountain. From behind the great yew hedge, she heard voices. Perry and Lady Mary. She was about to creep away when she froze.
    â€œIt’s not the child’s fault she’s an ungoverned heathen,” Perry said, his voice placating. “Her father was at court most of the time, leaving her with her mother who had no more brains than a sparrow.”
    â€œIt’s all very well that your sister concerns herself with an unfortunate orphan, but must she join our every pastime?” Lady Mary no longer sounded angry, but cool and considered, as though choosing her words with care. “The way she preens before you to show off her Latin! Honestly, what good will Latin and Greek do for a girl like her? At least do her the mercy of reminding her of her place now and again. One day she shall have to return to her family.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t wish that on her,” Perry said. “We receive letters from her mother, who can’t even write for herself—her son-in-law writes them for her. All of them shamelessly begging for money. My mother daren’t show them to the child. She burns them to spare her. Amy’s life is troubled enough. Let her enjoy a few years of innocent reprieve.”
    Aemilia thought her heart would stop beating. A few years’ reprieve—was that what Lady Susan offered? As soon as her education was finished, or as soon as Master Wingfield found an appointment in the military, would they send her back to Mother and Master Holland? But Lady Susan was so kind! Surely she wouldn’t abandon her.
    Yet Aemilia knew she couldn’t expect to remain at Grimsthorpe Castle forever. She thought back to Master Wingfield’s talk with Perry. Was her schoolmaster a fellow humble soul who hoped to use his fleeting time in this great house as a stepping stone to a better future? She,