Lady Vixen

England, 1808

It
was one of those warm, lazy days in August that occasionally caressed the
gentle hills and valleys of Surrey, near the small village of Beddington's
Corner. The sunlight was streaming into Nicole Ashford's room, golden strands
of gossamer that beckoned irresistibly and yet, for just a few minutes longer,
Nicole refused to leave the soft comfort of the feather mattress. She
determinedly ignored the urge to arise and meet the day, snuggling deeper into
the welcoming pillow and pulling the fine linen sheet further up across her
slim body. But sleep eluded her, and with a relaxed sigh, she slowly turned
over, lying on her back in the large eyelet-cotton-draped bed. Dreamily, her
topaz gaze drifted around the delightful room, unconsciously noting the
polished rosewood highboy and the cherry-wood armoire and the jeweled tones of
the gaily flowered carpet that covered the floor. Crisp white curtains, trimmed
with the same fabric that formed the hangings of her bed, hung at the tall
windows; a mahogany chest, filled just now with discarded toys, was underneath
one of the windows, and to its left sat an oak rocking chair, the crumpled gown
she had worn yesterday thrown carelessly across one arm.

Seeing
the gown reminded her that soon she would have to be up, because today was a
special day—today her parents were having a garden party, and she and Giles,
her twin brother, were going to be allowed to attend. A garden party might not
sound especially exciting to some, but as Nicole was not quite twelve and it
was her first grown-up party, her pleasure in the coming day was
understandable. Besides, it wasn't often that Annabelle and Adrian Ashford were
in residence at Ashland, their country estate, and Nicole treasured the few
moments she had with her parents.

With
a sense of happy anticipation, the long hair tumbling about the
already-striking features, she flung back the sheets, only to stop abruptly as
the door to her room flew open and Giles catapulted into the room.

"Nicky!
Are you still abed, you lazy slug? Hurry and dress, Shadow had her foal last
night!" Giles cried, his young voice full of pride and excitement. The
topaz eyes so like his sister's were gleaming with tawny sparks, and a lock of
dark brown hair fell across his forehead as he entered her room.

Nicole's
own small face suddenly alight with the same blaze of elation, she slipped from
the big bed, filling the air with questions. "Oh, why didn't you wake me
sooner? Were you there when the foal was born? What color is it? Is it a filly
or a colt?"

Giles
laughed. "Give me a chance, chatterbox! No, I wasn't there when it was
born, so take that look off your face—I didn't steal the march on you. It is a
filly, a beautiful black little girl, just like Shadow and she was born just
after midnight. Oh, wait until you see her, Nicky! She is so beautifully formed
and so soft, with great brown eyes." His boyish chest swelling with pride,
he finished loftily, "Father says she is to be mine!"

"Oh,
Giles! How lucky for you! I am so glad!" Nicole returned with genuine
pleasure. She had received her own horse, Maxwell, last year and was truly
delighted that now Giles would have his.

Hurriedly
she scrambled into the gown she had worn yesterday. Mentally preparing herself
for the strictures she would receive from her maid later, she quickly washed
her face and dragged a brush through her tangled mass of curls. A second later
the twins raced down the graceful, curving staircase, across the wide, elegant
hallway, and then out the massive double doors at the front of the house. It
took only a moment for them to leap down the wide steps of the entrance and to
disappear around the side of the magnificent country mansion.

Hand
in hand, nearly out of breath, they reached the stables at the rear of the
house a few minutes later. On tiptoe, breathing in the pungent smell of warm
horse flesh and sweet straw, they approached the large box stall at one end of
the sprawling stables. Adrian Ashford, tall and handsome in buff breeches and a
slim-fitting coat of blue with silver buttons, was already standing there, as
well as the head groom, Mr. Brown. Glancing over his shoulder, Adrian smiled at
the children, beckoning them nearer.

"I
see you woke her. Couldn't you wait?" he inquired, a warm smile curling
his fine mouth, a teasing glint coming and going in the wide dark eyes.

"No!
Besides, Nicky would have been a spitting fury if I hadn't told her
immediately. You know what a pepper pot she is!" Giles answered, his eyes
dancing.

Nicole
stuck out her tongue at him and flashed her father a sunny smile, saying
demurely, "I am growing up now. Young ladies are
not
pepper
pots!"

Giles
hooted with laughter and both Adrian and Mr. Brown joined in, much to Nicole's
discomfort. Taking pity on his daughter, Adrian swung her up in his arms,
murmuring in an affectionate tone, "You're getting almost too big for
this, my pet. In a year or two, I'll have to remember that you are not my
little
girl any longer."

"Oh,
Father! I shall always be your little girl!" Nicole promised fiercely as
she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, almost convulsively.
Her father kissed her on the forehead and set her on the ground. Gently pushing
a strand of the shining sable-fire hair behind one of her ears, he said softly,
"I'm sure you will sweetheart. But come, let us admire Shadow's lovely little
daughter."

The
filly was just as Giles had described her—black, black as ebony, and with great
soft curious brown eyes. With a sigh of pure pleasure, not caring about
possible damage to her gown, Nicole sank down onto the straw-littered floor,
crooning gently, "Oh, you pretty thing! How beautiful you are!"

Shadow,
a long-limbed thoroughbred as black as her foal, nuzzled the spindle-legged
small replica of herself, blowing softly through her nostrils, and Nicole
laughed. "I think Shadow is very proud of her daughter." Turning the
enchantingly lively features up toward her brother, she asked excitedly,
"What are you going to call her?"

Looking
a little self-conscious, Giles muttered, "I thought you would like to name
her—you let me name Maxwell."

"May
I? Really, Giles? You'll let me name her for you?"

"Of
course, silly! Who else would I let do it?"

The
topaz eyes shining like precious jewels, Nicole turned back to stare at the
foal. Her forehead wrinkled in thought, she said after a few minutes, "I
know it isn't very clever, but I like the name Midnight. You said she was born
just after midnight and she is certainly black as midnight!"

"That
would be perfect, Nicky!"

"An
excellent choice," commented Adrian. Then pulling Nicole to her feet, he
said, "Now I think we have, all lingered here in the stables long enough.
Your mother is probably wondering where we have all disappeared to. Don't
forget that we have guests arriving in a few hours."

"As
if I would!" Nicole protested.

Giles
shot her a teasing look, murmuring, "Well if that's what you are going to
wear and if you're going to leave that mane of yours straggling down your back,
it certainly does look as if you have!"

"Oh,
pooh! You know very well I have not! Just you wait until you see me in a little
while." And with that she scampered off, the long sable-fire hair waving
like a banner behind her.

And
two hours later, as Nicole stood on the broad marble steps leading to the
entrance of Ashland, greeting the arriving guests, no one would have connected
her with the hoyden who had knelt in the straw of the stable. Standing
confidently between her father and Giles, dressed in a most becoming soft
muslin gown of buttercup yellow, the lace of her exquisite pantaloons just
peeping from beneath the ankle-length skirt, the long hair pulled back into a
wealth of gleaming ringlets that cascaded nearly to her waist, Nicole was
everything an aristocrat's daughter should be. From the bright yellow ribbon
that held her hair back to the little white kid slippers on her feet she was a
daughter any man would be proud of. That Adrian Ashford was pleased with both
his son and daughter was very apparent in the smiling and encouraging looks
that he sent them as they continued to welcome the guests.

Nicole
loved every movement of it. Her only disappointment was that her mother,
Annabelle, had decided to greet their friends and neighbors in the gardens
rather than on the steps with her husband and children. But it was such a minor
flaw in this wonderful day that Nicole shrugged it aside.

The
party was a huge success; the rose-scented gardens were dotted with gaily
attired members of England's wealthier class and white-and-gold liveried
servants bobbed about offering gigantic trays of temptingly arranged
refreshments. Under the stately oaks and spreading chestnuts were dainty white
tables and chairs for those who wished to sit in the shade and observe the
antics of the others.

Nicole
and Giles, full of icy lemonade and melting cream-cakes, darted from one group
to another, enjoying the attention they were receiving. Yet both were very
conscious that it was their first grown-up party and consequently they were
behaving surprisingly well. Surprisingly, for in the neighborhood everyone knew
what mischievous little devils the Ashford twins could be.

"Not
an ounce of evil in either of them," remarked Colonel Eggleston pompously.
"But the trouble those two can cause! Did I tell you of the time they
caught a fox and put it in Lord Saxon's hen house? And that little Nicole is a
harum-scarum scamp, if I ever saw one. Why just last week she climbed to the
top of that old walnut tree near our entrance gate! Hardly a young ladylike
pursuit!"

Nicole,
approaching the Colonel and Mrs. Eggleston as they were standing and talking
with the vicar and his wife, heard that comment, and for one moment she was
shaken by a gust of quick anger. The Colonel would have to tell everyone! she
thought furiously. Old windbag! But the burst of temper disappeared as quickly
as it had come, and with a smiling face, she said, "Good afternoon,
Colonel Eggleston, Mrs. Eggleston, Vicar and Mrs. Summerton."