Over five years since I updated...I am so sorry for the long delay but I do intend to finish this story eventually! Huge thanks to those who have been kind enough to follow and review even though it looked deserted, you are the reason I came back to this.
There was little surprise behind Miss Thorne's raised eyebrows when Mr Moretyne and his military cousin were announced the next morning. Her eyes met Harry's over the book of household accounts they were reviewing, and then they both rose to greet their guests.
"Granville, did you hear the latest? Altringham is selling that bay hunter he had from Marlow last year!" Harry immediately launched into a discussion of his preferred version of on-dits, drawing the attention of Miss Thorne's nemesis and leaving his sister to fall into conversation with the other caller.
"It is a pleasure to see you this morning sir," she said sweetly. "I enjoyed our dances last night."
"I very much appreciated such a witty partner," Lansworth returned, glancing over at his cousin, who seemed to be wholly absorbed in conversation. "If you have a morning free, I would be delighted if you would drive out with me?"
Though Miss Thorne agreed politely, she was now on the horns of a dilemma. Although she would not mind an outing with the military gentleman, since he seemed inclined to pursue her acquaintance, she was in the midst of her plot to best his cousin and transferring her attentions would not accomplish her purpose.
As though he sensed her unease, Mr Moretyne broke off what he was saying to Harry to direct a knowing smile in her direction. "Frederick, Miss Thorne is already promised to my company, is that not so, Miss Thorne?"
She wrathfully reflected that it was just that sort of thing which made him such a detestable person, in spite of the glinting smile and steady hands on the reins. "Yes indeed, you volunteered to let me drive your grays," she retorted.
"What, the grays you had from Charnwood?" Lord Lansworth's gaze flickered back and forth between them. "You must be mistaken, Miss Thorne! Those grays are in no way suitable for a lady to drive!"
"You are mostly correct, but in this instance I must defend Miss Thorne's abilities," Mr Moretyne said gravely. "I have already offered to buy whichever of her horses she feels inclined to part with, which should tell you something about her skills."
Miss Thorne's manicured fingernails dug deep into her small palm for a moment, hidden by the muslin fabric of her dress. Whatever he was playing at, she was determined to get the best of him, and if that included a chance that he actually would let her take the reins, so much the better.
"By George, yes," Harry spoke up, ever a loyal brother. "Eleanor is equal to anything! Why, I lost count of the number of times she was thrown, or wrecked, or dragged through the mud, but I never saw a horse yet that could make her lose her nerve!"
"Harry, please, you will make me out to be quite the tomboy," Eleanor tried to keep an edge from her words. She had been quite the tomboy, in truth, but the reminiscence did not fit with her plans. "Lord Lansworth, do tell us more about your military service."
At her prompting, he shared some amusing anecdotes about his experiences in the Spanish campaign, but was reticient when the topic turned to his more recent activities. With an expressive shrug of his broad shoulders, he declared that he was no more interesting than any other civilian and turned the conversation to tales of his fellow officers.
When Mrs Benson slipped into the room, profuse with apologies for having been out calling on an old friend and offering tea, Miss Thorne was startled to realize that their visitors had been sitting with them for over an hour. The conversation had been less combative than was the usual wont between herself and Mr Moretyne, and she could not decide whether she enjoyed the calm or if it made her suspicious.
"Thank you, ma'am, but we should not stay, we are expected at my uncle's directly," Mr Moretyne rose from the sofa and bowed gracefully over the elderly lady's hand. She fluttered her lashes up at him and Miss Thorne reflected that it seemed as though every member of her family was enamoured of her nemesis.
Mrs Benson only waited for the door to close behind the gentlemen before clasping both hands to her bosom with a rapturous smile. "Eleanor my dear, I do not know what you are about! Mr Moretyne is fabulously wealthy, but Lord Lansworth's title is-"
"There is more to a man than his title, and I am not in need of a rich husband," Eleanor said a trifle waspishly.
"Yes, but-"
"And I hope I have more dignity than to-" She broke off as Harry reentered the drawing room.
"Well, I was in favor of Moretyne, but if you mean to have Lansworth, he seems a pretty decent fellow."
"I am not pursuing Lord Lansworth!" Miss Thorne cried, throwing up her hands.
She was wearing a dashingly cut habit of navy blue with brass buttons, a lace jabot, and a hat that turned up on one side with a plume when the team of grays arrived in Brook Street. Mr Moretyne gallantly assisted her into the curricle and held onto her hand a little longer than necessary. Eleanor was tempted to pull it away, but thought that she detected a challenge in his eyes and left it lying in his.
"So did you mean it when you offered to let me drive your grays?" She checked herself for sounding so eager; then remembered that she was supposed to be eager.
He swung himself up next to her and dismissed the groom with a nod of his head. "Is that what you call it?" There was definite mockery in his voice, but it was not necessarily unkind.
"Well, you did not deny it," she defended.
He smirked down at her. "I have better manners than to contradict a lady in public, no matter how outrageous her claims. However, if you solemnly promise that if they bolt you will hand the reins back to me at once, you may drive them."
Miss Thorne returned his smirk archly. "My, how disappointed you will be if I manage to keep them under control."
He did not, after all, seem disappointed or worried when they reached a less crowded stretch of road and he relinquished the reins into her grasp. Miss Thorne gently felt the horses' mouths, tilted the whip, and drove at a spanking pace until the houses dwindled into trees and fields.
Pulling up under a large tree, she directed a triumphant glance in his direction. "Now, you must own at least that they have neither bolted, nor overturned your carriage!"
"Except for the dog you almost hit."
"I never came close to hitting-" she stared at his straight face in sudden outrage. "You are making that up!"
He dissolved into a broad smile and she had to burst out laughing. "Detestable man! Is there the smallest chance you wish to sell these horses?"
"Miss Thorne, there is no chance that you will own these horses by purchase."
She wondered at his odd phrasing, but chose to drop the topic and set the grays in motion again.