Page 23 of Too Scot to Handle
“To do this properly, you’d need to fit out the rooms, advertise, interview the gentlemen to ensure the proper sort joined the household, train the boys, work out the budget for such an undertaking. All of that requires time, and the season is, thankfully, half over.”
Yes, but by autumn, Anwen could manage every task on the list. “Lord Colin, I fear I must pay you another compliment.”
He brought his horse to the halt, his expression solemn while his eyes danced. “Do your worst, Miss Anwen. I’m braced for the ordeal.”
“You have given me hope.”
She expected him to laugh, to fire off a witty rejoinder. Cousin Devlin would hear that laughter and come passaging over, and this magical sense of possibility would fade like the mist over the Long Water.
“I have given you hope,” Lord Colin repeated softly. “Tell me more.”
Could she? He wasn’t laughing, he was listening. “I am so worried for those children, and it’s tempting to yield to that worry, to be paralyzed by it. I could ignore the whole problem, and pretend wiser heads than mine will solve it. Any head is supposedly wiser than a single young woman’s. Sometimes, a problem is not solved by wisdom of the head, but by wisdom of the heart. I can aspire to wisdom of the heart, to imagination, to a charity card party because that’s what I can do.”
Prince Charlie walked on, and Anwen’s mare fell in beside him.
“I want to hear about this charity card party, but if the sun gets any higher, this park will become too crowded for a good gallop. Shall we?”
They’d come to a straight stretch of the bridle path, and Lord Colin was inviting her to gallop, to feel the wind in her hair, the horse pounding along beneath her, the greenery going by in a blur.
Without warning, Anwen cued her mare into the canter, then snugged her knee to the horn as Prince Charlie leapt forward.
“Go, girl!” Anwen shouted. “Show ’em your heels!”
The mare was exquisitely trained, but she was also a healthy creature confined to Town rather than enjoying her home pastures in Kent. She burst into a thunderous gallop, and with a whoop, Lord Colin let his gelding stretch out as well.
The gallop became a race, Anwen tucked like a highwayman over her horse’s withers, Lord Colin’s gelding puffing heartily at her elbow. By the time she pulled up three hundred yards on, she’d had a full length on Lord Colin.
The grooms were cantering some yards back, so Anwen permitted herself to raise her whip in the air.
“We beat you! Good girl, Baronessa! You showed them who’s faster.” She patted the mare’s shoulder, and the horse responded by curvetting about on the path, her form worthy of one of Cousin Devlin’s finished mounts.
“Well, of course you beat us,” Lord Colin said. “You had all the advantages, not that I’m complaining.”
He wasn’t complaining, he was smiling, his feet kicked out of the stirrups, his horse on a loose rein.
“What advantages?” Anwen retorted. “I’m riding aside, I haven’t galloped for ages, and I lack your athleticism. I’m also wearing a hat.” Which had more or less stayed affixed to her hair.
“That is not a hat. That is feathers and flowers intended to call attention to your glorious red hair. Your advantages are numerous, but let’s start with you surprised me with a fast start. You are smaller and lighter, your horse was fresher while this poor fellow was out until all hours last night. Most of all, you were determined to win, while I…”
“Yes?” If he said he’d let her win, the day would lose much of its glory.
His smile faded. “I was determined to win too. I simply underestimated you. Ungentlemanly of me, but it’s the truth. Shall we walk for a bit? I still want to hear about your charity card party.”
“Don’t feel bad. People have been underestimating me since I was seven years old.” Anwen unhooked her knee from the horn, and arranged her skirts so she could dismount. “I was supposed to die on several occasions, but failed to oblige the physicians. Mama would not let them bleed me, and sent them packing when their quackery only made me more ill. I didn’t die, though my recovery took months and featured several relapses.”
Lord Colin swung off his horse and came around to put his hands on Anwen’s waist. “I’m glad you didn’t die, glad your mama was as fierce as you are, though I suppose this is part of why you’re so protective of your boys.”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe about it,” Lord Colin said, easing her to the ground. “Our early experiences can shape us profoundly. Yours has made you indomitable.”
A goose honked a greeting to the day out across the water, and the moment imprinted itself on Anwen’s mind. She could smell horse sweat and fresh grass, cedar with a hint of honeysuckle. Beneath her gloves, the muscles of Lord Colin’s arms were firm and vital.
She woke up yet again, to her own indomitable nature, to the beautiful day, and to the fact that she wanted to kiss the first man to admit he’d underestimated her.
Chapter Five
Hiding beneath demure manners and modest tailoring was a stunning young woman. Colin stood a touch too close to Anwen Windham, counting the shades of blue, gray, agate, and indigo in her eyes.
