Page 27 of Snapdragons
He nodded.
“Faster than Morwenna?”
Penelope had encountered more than her share of men who grew irritated or offended when a woman even hinted at his horse or horsemanship being inferior. But Niles didn’t seem the least threatened.
“I think these two mares are well matched for speed,” he said. “But you’re at a disadvantage.”
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“Because I know my horse very well, but you only just met yours.”
She offered a coy shrug of one shoulder. “Which ought to even the odds for you.”
His laugh was delightful. She’d heard it a few times since arriving at Pledwick Manor, most frequently during the game of ground billiards. He enjoyed active pursuits and friendly competition and had a teasing sense of humor. They were soalike, more than she’d ever imagined a chance-chosen match could be.
They rode through a passage in the hedgerow. Ahead of them, a gravel path stretched long and straight to yet another opening in another hedgerow, beyond which was a picturesque lake. The path continued past the shoreline, following a narrow strip of land that, clearly having been created specifically to do so, led to an island, on which appeared to be a columned gazebo.
The grounds of Pledwick Manor were not merely extensive; they were gorgeous. An objective observer would insist that Fairfield would never be its equal, but Penelope didn’t need it to be. She loved her future home more than she could any other place in the world. It was more than an estate; it was every dream she had ever allowed herself to indulge in.
And Niles was key to claiming that.
“Shall we race to the next hedgerow?” She motioned to it up ahead.
“Will there be a forfeit for the winner?” Niles asked.
“I like flowers,” she said.
Again, he laughed. “Before you become too attached to that particular prize, I should warn you that my favorite flowers are snapdragons, and they are not easy to find this time of year.”
“Do I appear worried?”
“Not enough to boost my confidence.” He shook his head. “It seems I ought to discover whatyourfavorite flower is.”
“I am inordinately fond of bluebells. I suspect they are equally difficult to find this time of year.” She sighed as if she were enduring a tremendous disappointment. “Our forfeit, it seems, will be flowers that are not the winner’s favorite.”
Niles laughed a little. He then set his sights ahead of them again. “We’ll go on your signal.”
“At the ready,” she instructed.
He bent forward a bit, focusing on their target. She did thesame.
“And”—she drew out the word—“go!”
She nudged the horse with her legs, and the mare responded instantly. They sped down the path. The asymmetrical four-beat gait told her Midnight was at a true gallop. The feeling of flying during those moments when all four hooves were off the ground was as exhilarating as always. And the mare handled beautifully.
As far as Penelope could tell, she and Niles reached the far hedgerow at the exact same moment. On the other side, she allowed Midnight to slow and cool down. Niles was doing the same with Morwenna, and he was grinning as broadly as Penelope was.
“I think you enjoyed that, Niles Greenberry.”
He turned back toward her. “I think you did as well, Penelope Seymour.”
She took a lungful of rain-heavy air, feeling invigorated even in the quickly cooling breeze. “I always enjoy riding at a gallop, though my mother tells me I ought not do so away from home or in the company of others. ’Tisn’t ladylike.”
“Does she also share your brother’s opinion about the unladylike nature of running?”
She hadn’t expected him to remember that offhand comment but was deeply pleased to realize he had. “My brother’s objections stem from worry that our family’s standing is too precarious to endure overly close scrutiny. My mother’s objections arise from her conviction that I am an endless embarrassment.”
“Ought I to send her a letter informing her that you’ve managed to be here for days and haven’t yet proven an embarrassment?” He was smilingbut not in a way that negated his declaration; rather, it acknowledged the humor of his offering.
