Page 36 of His Spirited Lady
“Some people don’t take years to admit they’re in love, Ol.” Richard backed away. This close, it was impossible to hide for long.
“What of the distillery?”
There’s water, grain, and fermentable ingredients in Canada. Not to mention space and freedom. None of which she wants.“That’s between us, I believe.” Richard increased the distance between Oliver and himself. “And it may be a moot point if this weekend doesn’t sway her parents.” It was going to be a moot point anyway. He went to his waiting horse and swung into the saddle. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”
Once away from the stable, Richard put his heels in the horse’s ribs. He’d foregone a hat this evening, which gave them a chance to fly down the lane and onto the road before veering onto the shortcut Amelia had taken after their first meeting.
Beneath him, the giant gelding tensed and surged, leaping over even the smallest shadowy obstacle in the failing light. Richard bent low and tucked his knees close, his smile widening as he turned toward a low fence. “Go on then, boy.”
Speed and power gathered as they neared the jump. At the last moment, the horse gave a grunt as his hooves beat the ground. Then they were aloft, beast and man holding their breaths as they sailed for a briefest moment. They landed with a solid thud, and Richard glanced over his shoulder, whooping at the distance they’d cleared. He slapped the horse’s neck. “Good man.”
They stayed at a gallop until the Manor came into view, the light from the windows creating square stars. Richard slowed to a trot as they reached the fountain. The door opened, and Simms’s shadow stretched toward him. A groom took the reins.
Richard gave him an extra few shillings. “He’s earned a good rubdown and a helping of grain, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“No, sir. Looks like he’s given you a good ride.” The lad grinned. “I might have a carrot or two put back.”
Richard nodded his thanks before climbing the stairs, straightening his clothes as he went. “Thank you, Simms.”
“You’re welcome, sir.” He put his hands out. “Your coat needs a good tug. May I?”
Richard nodded. Under Simms’s care, the coat snapped to his shoulders like a piece in a puzzle. Sleeves were forced to his wrists.
“Horseback does poor service to a suit.” Simms’s eyes sparkled as he pulled the front of the coat into place. “I served as the old baron’s valet in a pinch. He enjoyed a good ride.”
“How’s my hair?” Richard whispered.
“Fine, sir. Pomade works so well they ought to put it on the hems of ladies’ skirts.” The older man flushed. “Oh. Forgive the—”
Richard was laughing so hard he didn’t hear the rest of the apology. “I’ll have to remember that one.”
“Just don’t credit it to me.” Simms led him toward the gathering room as though it was his first visit. Augustus Chitester’s jovial voice grew louder with every step. “They’ve only just come down.”
“Tell me.” Richard got shoulder to shoulder with Simms. “The household gossip. Is everyone…happy?” It shouldn’t make a difference. It wasn’t supposed to matter. Still, he hoped Amelia had allies in her own home.
“We have long known Lady Amelia wouldn’t settle for average,” Simms said. “And if adventure is involved, all the better.” The butler faced him and put a hand on the door. “If she is happy, we are happy, Mr. Ferrand. Titles be hanged.”
A traitorous peace came over Richard’s soul as the door swung open and Simms announced his arrival.
“Richard.” Augustus greeted him with a hearty handshake. Though pale, he was steady on his feet. “Whiskey?” He pointed toward a lurking footman bearing a tray.
“Thank you.” Richard took a sip before bowing to Amelia’s mother. “Lady Chites—”
“Marian, remember.” She squeezed his fingers. “It is lovely to see you, Richard. How are things at Felton House?”
“It is amazing how much noise such a small family can make,” Richard said. Two years ago, he’d teased Oliver about the joy of having the house to himself. However, after just a few weeks, the quiet had grated. He had run from it until he’d worn himself out.
“I can sympathize.” She tilted her head toward his. “I wasn’t quite prepared for having this group traipse through the house at all hours. Thank goodness it’s only for a few days.”
Richard’s eyes swept the room, thanking his lucky stars Fiona’s attention was focused on Jasper Warren. One of the men from the picnic raised his glass in salute. Richard returned it. Charles Grayson had asked so many questions about Canada that Richard had felt like a zoological exhibit, but he’d been well-intentioned.
It was too easy to imagine Amelia and he entertaining in his home, the faded wallpaper replaced, the house full of noise and life. Her using the tea set to test mash flavors. Making their own life.
She was near the window in conversation with Ethan Raymond. Her pink skirts ruffled so that she resembled the peonies in the garden at home. Her white silk glove went past her elbow and contrasted with Raymond’s hand on her arm. Amelia’s elbow moved; his fingers tightened. The color on her cheeks matched her dress.
“Excuse me,” Richard said to Marian as he moved past her. Avoiding everyone else, he reached Amelia’s side. Over her head, he shot Raymond a warning glance.
The man’s gaze narrowed, his mouth flattened to a straight line. “Ferrand. We weren’t certain you’d arrive in time for dinner.”
