standing there, two men leading saddled horses came from within the stable building into the yard. To my surprise, I saw that one of the men was Lord Winterdale. He was smiling, and for the first time since I had met him his unguarded face looked as young as I knew he was.
The man who was holding the other horse, obviously the Head Groom, saw me and said something to Lord Winterdale. The smile disappeared from his lordship’s face, he nodded, and the groom began to lead a very solid-looking bay gelding in my direction.
“Good afternoon, Miss,” he said. “I’m Fiske, his lordship’s Head Groom, and this is Cato. He’s a real gentleman, Miss, and wise to London traffic. You won’t have to worry about a thing. He’ll take care of you just fine.”
I patted Cato’s thick glossy neck. He was in excellent condition, but he was clearly no longer young. “Hello there, fellow,” I said.
Fiske led Cato to the mounting block and I mounted into the sidesaddle, hooking my knee around the horn and arranging my skirts. I was wearing my old habit, as the new one Lady Winterdale had ordered for me was not yet ready.
Lord Winterdale walked his horse over to me, and I stared with reverence at the beautiful black thoroughbred mare he was riding. She had a perfect white streak down the middle of her face, but the rest of her was like black silk. Her neck was long and arched, her shoulder ideally sloped, her legs perfectly clean, her hindquarters well muscled. This was a horse who was not only well looked after, she was also obviously well ridden.
“What a beauty!” I said sincerely.
“This is Isabelle,” he replied with the friendliest look I had yet gotten from him. “She has already been out this morning, so she should be perfectly content to walk and trot.”
“I can assure you, my lord, that I am perfectly capable of riding to more than a walk and a trot,” I said testily. “In fact, at home I have even been known to gallop over fences.”
“Have you indeed?” he murmured, as if he didn’t believe me.
I ground my teeth and held my tongue.
He looked at me more closely. “Good God, didn’t Aunt Agatha buy you a riding habit? I’m sure there was a bill for a riding habit in that enormous pile on my desk this morning.”
I said very calmly, “Lady Winterdale did indeed purchase a new riding habit for me, my lord. It is not yet ready, however.”
He was looking at the habit I was wearing as if it was a rag.
“There is nothing wrong with this habit,” I said indignantly. “It is excessively comfortable, I’ll have you know. The new one Lady Winterdale ordered for me will not be half as pleasant to ride in.”
A flash of genuine humor lit Lord Winterdale’s thin, dark face. “Haven’t you learned yet, Miss Newbury, that the more comfortable a garment is, the more unfashionable it is likely to be?”
It was astonishing how intensely attractive his face became when that cold ironic look was replaced by warmth. The change was brief, however, and as we turned to leave the stable yard I was once more confronted by his chill, hard profile.
It was a short walk from Grosvenor Square to the Oxford Street entrance to Hyde Park and as we entered in under the trees I smiled with delight. The busy streets of London were exciting, certainly, but there was no doubt that I had missed the green beauty of the country.
“The usual promenade of the ton does not begin until about five,” Lord Winterdale informed me, “so we have a brief respite before the paths become too clogged with traffic to do anything but stop and socialize with the people who are here only to be seen.”
“Can we go for a canter?” I asked eagerly.
He gave me a speculative look. Then, “Why not?” he said. “I think you can trust Cato.”
His disparaging remarks on my horsemanship annoyed me no end, and I didn’t wait for him to say anything more before I asked the bay gelding for a canter. He moved off smoothly and after a minute
The man who was holding the other horse, obviously the Head Groom, saw me and said something to Lord Winterdale. The smile disappeared from his lordship’s face, he nodded, and the groom began to lead a very solid-looking bay gelding in my direction.
“Good afternoon, Miss,” he said. “I’m Fiske, his lordship’s Head Groom, and this is Cato. He’s a real gentleman, Miss, and wise to London traffic. You won’t have to worry about a thing. He’ll take care of you just fine.”
I patted Cato’s thick glossy neck. He was in excellent condition, but he was clearly no longer young. “Hello there, fellow,” I said.
Fiske led Cato to the mounting block and I mounted into the sidesaddle, hooking my knee around the horn and arranging my skirts. I was wearing my old habit, as the new one Lady Winterdale had ordered for me was not yet ready.
Lord Winterdale walked his horse over to me, and I stared with reverence at the beautiful black thoroughbred mare he was riding. She had a perfect white streak down the middle of her face, but the rest of her was like black silk. Her neck was long and arched, her shoulder ideally sloped, her legs perfectly clean, her hindquarters well muscled. This was a horse who was not only well looked after, she was also obviously well ridden.
“What a beauty!” I said sincerely.
“This is Isabelle,” he replied with the friendliest look I had yet gotten from him. “She has already been out this morning, so she should be perfectly content to walk and trot.”
“I can assure you, my lord, that I am perfectly capable of riding to more than a walk and a trot,” I said testily. “In fact, at home I have even been known to gallop over fences.”
“Have you indeed?” he murmured, as if he didn’t believe me.
I ground my teeth and held my tongue.
He looked at me more closely. “Good God, didn’t Aunt Agatha buy you a riding habit? I’m sure there was a bill for a riding habit in that enormous pile on my desk this morning.”
I said very calmly, “Lady Winterdale did indeed purchase a new riding habit for me, my lord. It is not yet ready, however.”
He was looking at the habit I was wearing as if it was a rag.
“There is nothing wrong with this habit,” I said indignantly. “It is excessively comfortable, I’ll have you know. The new one Lady Winterdale ordered for me will not be half as pleasant to ride in.”
A flash of genuine humor lit Lord Winterdale’s thin, dark face. “Haven’t you learned yet, Miss Newbury, that the more comfortable a garment is, the more unfashionable it is likely to be?”
It was astonishing how intensely attractive his face became when that cold ironic look was replaced by warmth. The change was brief, however, and as we turned to leave the stable yard I was once more confronted by his chill, hard profile.
It was a short walk from Grosvenor Square to the Oxford Street entrance to Hyde Park and as we entered in under the trees I smiled with delight. The busy streets of London were exciting, certainly, but there was no doubt that I had missed the green beauty of the country.
“The usual promenade of the ton does not begin until about five,” Lord Winterdale informed me, “so we have a brief respite before the paths become too clogged with traffic to do anything but stop and socialize with the people who are here only to be seen.”
“Can we go for a canter?” I asked eagerly.
He gave me a speculative look. Then, “Why not?” he said. “I think you can trust Cato.”
His disparaging remarks on my horsemanship annoyed me no end, and I didn’t wait for him to say anything more before I asked the bay gelding for a canter. He moved off smoothly and after a minute
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