Page 25 of The Defiant Governess
“Y-yes,” stammered Jane. She thought quickly. “And we always had horses around the farm.”
“I see. So you learned on ... a plow horse?” His tone was bantering but he looked at her quizzically.
“The squire had a few blood horses.” She quickly changed the subject. “Do you race Hero?”
Saybrook gave a slight smile. He didn’t press her further but followed her lead. “No, I have not considered it.”
“Well, I’m sure he would do handsomely at Newcastle.”
Again he gave her a questioning look. “And how would know that, Miss Langley?”
“Just from what I manage to read,” she answered lamely, mentally kicking herself for being so cork-brained. The heat of the race must have affected her judgment. She stole a sidewaysglance to see if he was still studying her face. Thankfully, his attention was on the upcoming woods.
She couldn’t help but notice how well he looked in his buckskins and riding coat. His long hair was tousled about his ears and collar, making him look younger, more carefree. His expression also seemed more relaxed. It was as if he was allowing himself to put aside his usual hauteur for the moment. A curious feeling squeezed at her stomach. She felt almost giddy. Then she shook herself and looked away. So what if he was damnably attractive at times?
They rode along in silence for a time.
“Do you ride every morning?” asked Saybrook as they came to a narrow lane used by farm carts.
“It is before my duties with Peter begin,” she said a bit defensively. “Henry did not think you would object.”
“Miss Langley, I would take it kindly if you would not regard a simple question as an attempt to bite your head off. No doubt your assessment of my character is such that you feel the need to be defensive, but I’m not quite the monster you think.”
Jane hung her head in shame. “Yes, sir. That is, yes, I try to ride every morning.”
“Have you taken out Agrippa?”
“Indeed not, milord. I did not mean to imply earlier that Henry would let anyone ride your prime stallions.”
“I should think you would find him to your liking. Henry will have him ready tomorrow. I should like to hear what you think of him,” he said. “And now, good day, to you Miss Langley.”
They had reached the elm-lined drive leading to the manor house and he spurred forward at a sharp canter leaving Jane speechless.
Never had she known a gentleman to offer one of his stallions to a lady, much less care about her opinion of his merits! Even those friends who knew she was a bruising rider were loath toadmit she might know as much as they did about horseflesh. So lost in thought did she become that it took Henry’s cheery good morning for her to realize she had arrived back at the stables.
Later that afternoon,when lessons were finished, Peter rushed off to the stables to meet Saybrook for a ride through the southern part of the estate. The marquess was taking more and more interest in his ward and it showed in the boy’s demeanor. There was a cheerfulness about him that was missing before, and his eyes no longer had that wary look.
With the remainder of the afternoon free, Jane decided to write a note to Mary in the privacy of her own room. It was way past due—she had no idea how the time had flown by so quickly! Her friend deserved a few words, nothing that might give Jane away if others read the note, but enough to assure Mary that their plans had not gone awry.
Engrossed with the tasking of composing the letter in her head, she entered her room with nary a glance around and began rummaging around for some paper and ink in her bureau. It was only when she turned to sit on her bed that she noticed the dress.
It was a riding habit of deep navy, outdated in fashion but of fine fabric and detailing—an obviously costly garment. Jane stared at it for a moment, unable to figure out where it had possibly come from, or what it was doing in her room. She put aside her writing material and left to find Mrs. Fairchild.
In the hallway, the upstairs maid was sweeping the floor, and Jane stopped a moment to question her. “Polly, there is a dress in my room that doesn’t belong to me. Do you know anything about it?”
“Oh yes, Miss Jane. I was told to put it there. It’s from the attics, I think.”
More perplexed than ever, Jane kept up her search for the housekeeper.
Mrs. Fairchild was having her tea in a small study that served as her sitting room. Jane repeated her question concerning the dress.
“Oh yes, His Lordship asked that I get a riding habit down from the attic. It was his sister’s—Miss Sarah’s. Her things are stored up there.”
“B-But why?” stammered Jane.
Mrs. Fairchild thought for a moment. “Well, he did mention something about how if you meant to ride every day, perhaps you shouldn’t spook the horses with—as he put it—those ghastly flapping skirts.”
Jane gritted her teeth.Infuriating man.Only he would be able to show some thoughtfulness, then color it with a casual insult. She had a good mind to tell him to take his dress to the Devil!
