The Scent of Murder by Felicity Young Read Free Book Online

that’s all right, just as long as the horse can see,’ Tristram said nonchalantly. ‘You watch, he’ll probably be the most competent on the field. Aye-Aye really comes to life when he’s hunting.’
    He would need to. So far Aye-Aye had been the living dead. How strange these people were, Florence thought: daring, tough and eccentric as they exercised their assumed God-given right to rule the land. Whether Tristram liked it or not, whether his adoption excused him or not, he was still very much one of them. He and she were poles apart. Could they really share a future together?
    Florence put the silver cup back on the butler’s tray. She must cast all doubts aside and enjoy the day, and not think too far ahead. It wasn’t as if Tristram had even proposed yet.
    She adjusted the veil over her bowler and fanned her riding habit over her jodhpurs. On Sir Desmond’s signal the pinks led the way, with the dogs – no, hounds — weaving their way between the long legs of the hunters, followed by the black jackets and the youngsters in tweeds, she and Tristram bringing up the rear.
    They clattered down the carriageway beneath the monkey puzzle trees, fields on either side still covered with floating mist. A stag gave them a cursory glance then returned to his breakfast of hay with his harem, tails flicking across white rumps. Novel as the hunt was to Florence, this was nothing new to the deer; their forebears had watched this ritual being acted out for hundreds of years and they were probably relieved to no longer be involved as quarry.
    ‘We’re heading for a covert on the border of the seminary lands, near where we were digging yesterday,’ Tristram told her. ‘Foxes are often found there; we’re almost sure to flush one out.’
    They ambled on, Speedy’s gait almost soporific. Whoever named him must have had a wicked sense of irony. The old schoolmaster seemed completely unaffected by Warrior’s startled shying at nothing and the way he champed at the bit, sending white foam flying.
    Finally, as they approached the covert, Speedy’s ears pricked forward and his pace increased.
    Ahead of them a horn sounded. At once Speedy reared onto his hind legs. Florence stifled a scream and fought to keep her balance.
    ‘Lean forward and wriggle the bit to pull his head down,’ Tristram shouted.
    No sooner had she brought the horse back to earth than the horn sounded again.
    ‘Hang on, Flo, we’re off!’
    Speedy lashed out a rear leg at Warrior’s head and then, before Florence could catch her breath, they were charging through the copse, following the hounds baying on the scent of fox. The trees passed by in a blur, twigs stung her face. Speedy seemed to be deliberately aiming for the low-hanging branches, and she had to duck and swivel to keep her seat and her head. A twig snatched away her veil.
    Once out of the copse, Florence found herself careering down a grassy slope. She leaned back, as she had been taught. Ahead, one of the horses slipped on the sod. Its young rider was dumped to the ground, skidding for several yards before coming to a stop in a crumpled heap. Florence tried to pull Speedy up to make sure the child was all right, but the cob would have none of it. He lifted his head to evade the bit and continued on his charge toward an overgrown hedge at the bottom of the hill. As she overtook one of the pinks, she heard Sir Desmond yell to Tristram, ‘Keep that bloody woman under control!’
    ‘Follow the youngsters, Florence!’ Tristram called to her, pointing with his crop to a group of tweeds cautiously reconnoitring the hedge. For once Speedy obeyed the tug on his rein and they followed the junior members until they came to a low dip in the hedge over which they sailed. Florence clung on for dear life, forgetting all she had been taught as she flew through the air. She had not experienced such out-of-control terror since being pursued through the East End by a deranged killer. Never again would she go