well, but settled his features into more of a stoic expression. With the scar on his face, he looked almost fierce, but Nivea knew better.
Smiling, she answered. “I’m fine. It was such a nice morning, I thought I’d take a ride.”
Thomas shot her a questioning look. Nivea was sure he realized in all the years he’d known William, he’d never seen her on horseback. Fortunately, he was too polite to comment.
“Did you have a nice race?” Nivea asked.
Abby smiled and the look of love she exchanged with Thomas was almost embarrassing. “Yes. These horses are wonderful. I could not wait to stretch their legs. They are magnificent creatures. Thomas, you are going to have to talk to William about selling this one to me. She’s perfect.”
His eyes crinkled in amusement. “I thought Arabelle was perfect. And Mystic. How may perfect horses do you need?”
Abby shrugged and patted the horse’s shoulder.
“So, Thomas, the other men are all off hunting. Didn’t you wish to go with them?” Nivea asked.
His eyes grew dark and shuttered. “I do not enjoy the sport. I have seen enough killing, thank you.”
Recalling that his scar was a result of a battle wound, her face warmed. “Oh—yes—I see—well—” she stuttered.
Taking note of her embarrassment, Abby reached over and patted her husband’s leg. “Let’s go, luv, I’ll race you to the stable.”
He smiled and whipped his horse to a gallop, but Abby had already sprung ahead.
If she were a betting woman, Nivea would put her money on the lady.
By the time she reached the stable, grooms were already rubbing down the pair’s horses. One of them stopped to help Nivea dismount. She almost felt graceful as she slid onto the mounting block.
Guests were starting to stroll around the yard. Hoping they wouldn’t notice her riding habit, she darted up to her room. Changing into a delicate pink morning dress, she headed outside where the women and children were talking and playing games. Her sister-in-law, Betsy, was holding little Anthony under a giant parasol, querying Nicholas’s sisters about teething.
Caroline was playing leapfrog with five rambunctious boys who were soon to be her nephews. Nivea joined her sister, helping the littlest ones climb onto the backs of their much larger brothers so they could spring off with glee. Over and over, they would push off the giggling lumps, before curling up at the front of the line to await their turn.
Little Daphne, one of Briar’s twin girls, came up to Nivea and tugged on her skirt. “Aunt Nivvy, I’m tired. Will you pick me up?”
“Certainly, poppet. I’m a little tired too. Would you like me to carry you over to the shade and tell you a story?”
The girl’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes! I love stories. Can you tell Eloise, too?” The little girl’s face was full of hope, eager to share the moment with her twin.
Nivea’s smile widened. “Of course. Let’s gather up all your friends.”
Nivea invited the youngest children and their wilting mothers to join her on a bench in the garden under the cooling shade of a crabapple tree. “Why don’t you stretch out on the grass, while I tell you a story?”
“What kind of story, Aunt Nivvy?”
“Would you like to hear a poem I wrote about my cat, Samuel?”
“Yes, yes!” they all cheered. “Tell us about Smanuall.”
Nivea smiled at their enthusiasm. Drawing Caroline’s youngest nephew, little Colin, onto her lap, she began.
Tabby Cat, fat and lazy
lying in the sun.
Eyes blink,
you stretch and yawn
and make to get up
before falling back down,
content to pass another hour
In slumber.
They clapped, their faces alight with joy.
“Another! Tell one about horses! We love horses.” Of course it was Abby’s little ones who shared their mother’s obsession for riding.
Nivea had attempted to write some, long ago, as it was the central theme in her upbringing, but had always found the subject challenging. After giving it
Smiling, she answered. “I’m fine. It was such a nice morning, I thought I’d take a ride.”
Thomas shot her a questioning look. Nivea was sure he realized in all the years he’d known William, he’d never seen her on horseback. Fortunately, he was too polite to comment.
“Did you have a nice race?” Nivea asked.
Abby smiled and the look of love she exchanged with Thomas was almost embarrassing. “Yes. These horses are wonderful. I could not wait to stretch their legs. They are magnificent creatures. Thomas, you are going to have to talk to William about selling this one to me. She’s perfect.”
His eyes crinkled in amusement. “I thought Arabelle was perfect. And Mystic. How may perfect horses do you need?”
Abby shrugged and patted the horse’s shoulder.
“So, Thomas, the other men are all off hunting. Didn’t you wish to go with them?” Nivea asked.
His eyes grew dark and shuttered. “I do not enjoy the sport. I have seen enough killing, thank you.”
Recalling that his scar was a result of a battle wound, her face warmed. “Oh—yes—I see—well—” she stuttered.
Taking note of her embarrassment, Abby reached over and patted her husband’s leg. “Let’s go, luv, I’ll race you to the stable.”
He smiled and whipped his horse to a gallop, but Abby had already sprung ahead.
If she were a betting woman, Nivea would put her money on the lady.
By the time she reached the stable, grooms were already rubbing down the pair’s horses. One of them stopped to help Nivea dismount. She almost felt graceful as she slid onto the mounting block.
Guests were starting to stroll around the yard. Hoping they wouldn’t notice her riding habit, she darted up to her room. Changing into a delicate pink morning dress, she headed outside where the women and children were talking and playing games. Her sister-in-law, Betsy, was holding little Anthony under a giant parasol, querying Nicholas’s sisters about teething.
Caroline was playing leapfrog with five rambunctious boys who were soon to be her nephews. Nivea joined her sister, helping the littlest ones climb onto the backs of their much larger brothers so they could spring off with glee. Over and over, they would push off the giggling lumps, before curling up at the front of the line to await their turn.
Little Daphne, one of Briar’s twin girls, came up to Nivea and tugged on her skirt. “Aunt Nivvy, I’m tired. Will you pick me up?”
“Certainly, poppet. I’m a little tired too. Would you like me to carry you over to the shade and tell you a story?”
The girl’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes! I love stories. Can you tell Eloise, too?” The little girl’s face was full of hope, eager to share the moment with her twin.
Nivea’s smile widened. “Of course. Let’s gather up all your friends.”
Nivea invited the youngest children and their wilting mothers to join her on a bench in the garden under the cooling shade of a crabapple tree. “Why don’t you stretch out on the grass, while I tell you a story?”
“What kind of story, Aunt Nivvy?”
“Would you like to hear a poem I wrote about my cat, Samuel?”
“Yes, yes!” they all cheered. “Tell us about Smanuall.”
Nivea smiled at their enthusiasm. Drawing Caroline’s youngest nephew, little Colin, onto her lap, she began.
Tabby Cat, fat and lazy
lying in the sun.
Eyes blink,
you stretch and yawn
and make to get up
before falling back down,
content to pass another hour
In slumber.
They clapped, their faces alight with joy.
“Another! Tell one about horses! We love horses.” Of course it was Abby’s little ones who shared their mother’s obsession for riding.
Nivea had attempted to write some, long ago, as it was the central theme in her upbringing, but had always found the subject challenging. After giving it
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