Page 38 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
“The afternoon is not too warm, My Lady,” Mr. Moore said. “If you want, I can accompany you to see her.”
Her eyes lit up at the mention of Bessie, and there was no question in her mind to not go see her and so agreed. She had another reason to go with Mr. Moore too, as the impromptu confession he had given her about his mother had rested on her mind for a while. She felt ashamed that she had not replied in kind to his divulgement and had promised herself to do it one day. In the privacy of the stables, where he bared his soul, felt right for her to do the same.
She had barely stepped into the stable when Bessie’s loud whinny came out, and the horses head reared up from her stall. “She did miss me then.”
“I reckon so,” Mr. Moore said as he pulled the door open and she went in.
Bessie was tossing her head, and her eyes lit up with energy. She tapped Bessie’s nose and then ran her hand to her side and there she felt her horse’s trapped energy. “She needs to run, Mr. Moore.”
“Then we will let her run,” he said simply, “Duke too.”
They unlocked the stalls to both horses and took them into the nearest field. Penelope then saw the differences between both horses, Bessie was golden-brown with a soft-honey coat while Duke was tall, stately and darker than the midnight sky. They were opposite in everything; form, color, and manner. Bessie tended to be friendly while Duke was still standoffish. Then again, he was living up to his name of Duke.
Mr. Moore was leading both horses toward the long grassy field and as there was no riding to be done, there was no need to be saddled. Mr. Moore patted both horses and step away from Duke while she stood at the sidelines. He allowed both animals to sniff the grass and pace before he slapped Bessie on her hindquarters to get her to gallop around the field. Duke snorted, paced the ground and took off after the mare without a word.
She sighed in happiness when her horse ran free as Mr. Moore joined her at the gates. The sun was benign and warm and so was the footman’s smile. She swallowed over her words. “My mother died a year after my first season. I did not want to go back for the second, but Edward and my father pressed me into it. I was…lonely. I had Martha and all, but there was no pleasure in staying in London without my mother. When my father told her, he was going to teach me how to ride astride, she, unlike any other mother, gave him her blessing.”
Penelope made sure to keep her eyes trained on the horses who were cantering side by side. Duke stopped and nudged Bessie with his nose and the mare began stomp impatiently.
“When Mother died, a part of me died with her. My father was hit the worse and so was Eddie, but you would have to pull his teeth out one by one for him to admit it,” she divulged. “She had gotten me Bessie a year before that, but she was still a colt then and hard to train. I declined a third season and stayed home to be with Bessie who was more a reminder of Mother than anyone was.”
She grimaced, “I know it is not as poignant as your story, and I may not know the level of pain you went through, but I know how it hurts to lose a Mother.”
He was closer than she had realized while she had sunk into her mind. His arms were braced on the post near to her, and her eyes briefly looked at him. His eyes were on the horses. “You have nothing to apologize for. No one can know another’s pain, but it is pain, all the same.”
The wind picked up and fluttered Mr. Moore’s hair into a pell-mell of disorder and she laughed when he scowled. “The wind has no manners, Mr. Moore, you should know that by now.”
Bessie and Duke were romping on the field, then Bessie was romping while Duke stood like a monolith in the sun. His dark coat shone under the golden rays, and his head twisted as Bessie danced around him. He then shook his head, tossing his mane and began walking back toward his owner.
Mr. Moore stepped away and grabbed the horse’s chin. He then leaned in, “No, Duke, you are not coming back this quickly. You will go back to the field and stay with the lady, understand me. Have I not raised you better than that?”
She slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her giggle that grew into a gurgling laugh. Mr. Moore looked over to her, “He knows how to be a better gentleman than this.”
That made her laugh even more. “I believe you.”
With a slap to the horse’s hind, Duke was sent back to the field. Mr. Moore came back shaking his head as the majestic animal went back to Bessie. He nosed the mare, and she began dancing around him.
“Duke knows better, I apologize.”
“Bessie does too,” she added. “But she has not had any other horse to play with, so she can be a bit of an irritant.”
Looking toward him, she could see the unsaid question in his eyes, and she knew—just knew—that he was wondering about her and Lord Hillbrook. The words irritant was one she had used to speak of the Baron and uttering it again must have prodded him to think about him. She carefully considered her words, “Lord Hillbrook was surprisingly amiable today. Not much of the irritant he had been or who I had thought him to be.
He was quiet for a moment, “All is well between you two, then?”
Mr. Moore’s voice was hesitant as it was coming close to crossing the line between employer and servant decorum. But that was not the only thing she heard in his hesitant voice, there was a hint of his dislike of the man there too. Penelope could not fault him for it. Lord Hillbrook had been discourteous to him without a reason.
“Not fully,” she mumbled to the ground before huffing quietly, “I cannot tell you what it truly is but…” she hazarded a glance at him, noting his expressionless face and hated how she was not able to get a good read on the man. His face was perfect for a gambling hell. Cross at herself for not knowing how to approach him she huffed a little more but quietly continued. “I don’t know what to think just yet. Eddie would be thrilled, I know but…” her words ran out of steam—again. “I am still on the fences.”
Cringing at her blurted words, Penelope did not dare look at Mr. Moore. Why? His very presence had begun to steal the air from her lungs, and her heart was palpitating too quickly for her comfort. Her eyes shifted between Bessie, Duke and the ground. His silence was even more discomfiting than her ramble, and she felt the silence like a beast nipping at her heels as she waited for him to speak. Why his opinion mattered to her so much, she had not the faintest idea.
“My Lady,” he said, “I am honored that you would tell me your insecurities, but you do not have to justify anything to me.”
Justify? What was she justifying? Then she remembered—she had been the one who had assumed his question about Lord Hillbrook and had ranted off without a by-your-leave. She had been justifying. “Oh.”
He then tilted his head to her, and his smile was comforting, and she sighed out her trapped breath. He made her feel a bit unsteady when he got mysterious, and more stable when he was open. Well, as open as he could get considering that he was a stoic person.
The sun was dipping, and both horses were munching on tall blades of grass, side by side. “I think it’s time to get them back in.”
