Page 41 of Reforming Lord Ragsdale
“And Miss Clarissa agreed over tea and macaroons to follow you to the ends of the earth?” she teased in turn.
Lord Ragsdale laughed. “Not precisely, you goose, but she did consent to let me escort her to Covent Garden when we return next week.”
“Bravo, my lord!” Emma said, clapping her hands.
Lord Ragsdale bowed, then looked over Emma’s shoulder. “And here is another beauty.”
She turned around to look across the aisle at another horse, a gray mare, smaller, but just as interested in the people in the stables as they were in her. Her ears were cocked forward, almost as though she understood their conversation. Emma reached up to pat the second horse, admiring every inch of her elegant bearing.Lord Ragsdale knows horses, she thought as she found herself nose to nose with the little beauty. She thought of her father’s stables then, remembering with a rush of pleasure completely independent of any regret or longing.
“Oh, Lord Ragsdale, I wish you could have seen my father’s stable,” she said, forgetting where she was. “He had a roan that would have given your hack a run for his. . .” She stopped, acutely aware of Lord Ragsdale’s full attention. “But you couldn’t be interested in that,” she concluded. She stepped away from the mare, embarrassed.
Lord Ragsdale turned his attention back to his horse, sparing her further embarrassment. “Emma, you’re no more shanty Irish than I am,” he commented, not looking at her. “Something tells me that your father had a whopping good stable.”
He cannot possibly be interested in anything I have to say about my family, she thought, suffering the familiar panic she always felt around Englishmen. “Yes, he did,” she concluded, “but I needn’t tax you with that.” She glanced at the gray,desperate to change the subject. “This is a lady’s horse, my lord. I hate to tell you, but if you bought this for Miss Claridge, you will be disappointed. She doesn’t ride.”
She waited as he continued his scrutiny of her, hoping he would ask no questions that would rip her wounds wideopen, leaving her to bleed inside again.Oh, please, my lord, she thought,change the subject.
He turned from his regard of her and fondled the gray’s ears.
“If you must know, I was looking to the future,” he explained, after a moment’s hesitancy. “Perhaps Clarissa will enjoy this horse someday.”
My, but you are in love, she thought, smiling at him and grateful he had taken another conversational tack. “Perhaps you are right, my lord. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have your work to finish.”
He smiled at her and reached in his pocket, pulling out a sale’s receipt. “Very well! Enter this and send it to the bank.” He grinned at the astonishment on her face as she absorbed the amount. “I can afford it, so don’t you dare scold, Emma!”
She shook her head, thinking that Lord Ragsdale’s indulgence in two horses could feed small cities. She stared at the amount. Or build new cottages for all his crofters and the neighbors besides.I hope he is so generous in another day, when he’s inspecting thatching and rafters.
And so it goes, she thought, as she took a last look at the beautiful horses and started from the stable. Lord Ragsdale fell in step beside her, shortening his stride to hers.
“Of course, I need to exercise both horses. Emma, could I convince you to ride with me tomorrow on our way to Norfolk? I am assuming that you are a rider.”
A very good one, my lord, she told herself.There was a time when I could match my brothers mile for mile across the whole of County Wicklow. You’d have thought we owned it, or at least, part of it. And so we did, but that seems like someone else’s life, and not my own.
“I would like that, my lord, but I don’t have a riding habit,” she temporized, grateful for an excuse and wondering why at the same time.
“That’s no difficulty,” he assured her. “I am certain my mother has a habit you can wear. She doesn’t ride anymore, and it may be a trifle outmoded, but I fail to think that would bother you overmuch. Ride with me, Emma?” he asked again.
It wasn’t a command. She knew she could say no. Emma hesitated.
“Of course, if you would prefer to ride in the carriage with Mama and Sally and Acton, I will understand,” he continued smoothly.
Acton. The thought of riding for a day and a half in a carriage with that harpy glaring at her made her flinch. “No, no,” she said hastily. “I’ll ride with you, Lord Ragsdale.”
~
Lady Ragsdale’s habit was not a perfect fit, but her boots were, Emma decided, as Lord Ragsdale threw her into the sidesaddle the following morning. She settled herself comfortably and accepted a crop from him, enjoying the feel of the saddle and the particular pleasure of good boots. She tapped the leather with the riding crop, thoroughly satisfied, for all that she would have to think of something to say to Lord Ragsdale through a whole day of riding.
Leading out in front of the carriage, they negotiated London’s early-morning traffic and soon left it behind, riding into the morning sun, which struggled to get away from the low clouds and fog that seemed part of London’s perennial landscape. They rode steadily to the north and east, and soon the breeze blowing toward the Channel cleared the air of haze, presenting them with a blue sky of surpassing loveliness.
To Emma’s relief, Lord Ragsdale chose not to converse. They rode side by side, but he was silent, and she wondered if he was already regretting his decision to go to Norfolk. LadyRagsdale had confided in her last night as Emma was helping with the packing that he had not been at Staples Hall since his father was laid to rest in the family cemetery there.
“And even then he was brought into the chapel on a stretcher,” she said. “He has never been back since.” She sighed and looked down at the petticoat in her hands. “And we do not talk about it.”
Emma looked at Lord Ragsdale’s profile.At least you know where your father is buried, she thought.You don’t lie awake at nights, wondering if he is alive or dead, as I do.
“Yes, Emma?”
His question came out of the blue, and she glanced at him, startled. “I ... I didn’t say anything, my lord,” she stammered.
