Page 38 of Wild Lily
“Pardon, sir?” His man paused from brushing any lint from his shoulders.
“Nothing. Sorry, Pendley.Talking to myself.”
“Yes, sir. I think you’ve a good morning for it, sir.”
“Talking?”
“Riding, sir. The ground will be firm from the sun yesterday.”
“That it will.” He took his gloves from the valet’s hands. “See you later.”
He took the main stairs to the foyer and strode toward the back of the house and down the servants’ stairs. At this hour, only they would be awake and working.
“Oh, my lord, I say!” Carbury’s butler pushed from the long wooden table in the servants’ hall. “You’re up early. I’ll send up a footman with breakfast.”
“Please don’t. Adams, is it?”
The butler nodded.
“I’m in no rush.”
“But…tea? Before you ride, sir?”
“Thank you, no.”
“Forgive me, my lord, but is this a new habit before riding?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Miss Hanniford left a few minutes ago as well. No tea for her, either.”
“Is that so?” Under those circumstances, Julian definitely didn’t want anything to delay him. “I’ll dine when I return.”
“Very good, sir. With Miss Hanniford, perhaps?”
“Well, Adams, I cannot say. That depends on the lady. I think these American girls do as they wish.”
“You’ve got that right, you do. She left alone, my lord.”
“Did she?” He glanced toward the window, alarmed. “No maid?”
“Nor her cousin, either, sir.”
“I see. Well, thank you. All the more reason why I should hurry in case she should flush out a fox or break a leg.”
“Right you are. I will have the footman lay out the full service, say, in an hour?”
Julian agreed and turned for the stable block.
Carbury had a fine selection of horses and when Julian rode on succeeding days, he’d take more time to choose the best one. For income, he’d recently sold his own best stallion. This morning, he cared not a fig for the biggest or fastest. Two grooms obliged him, saddling up one large black beast, and pointing him in the direction of the lady who’d ridden off minutes ago.
She ridden east toward a forest glen he knew well because it abutted his own land of Willowreach. The budding branches rustled, dappled by the rays of the rising sun. The path through the thick growth was well-traveled and he was out only half a mile when the stallion he rode came up hard behind her.
She must’ve heard him approach because she looked back, and slowed her mount to a walk. He soon caught up.
“Good morning,” he said, doffing his hat. Sitting side-saddle, she looked like a queen. An uncomfortable one. “You’re up early.”
“As are you.” She nodded and he could not tell if she were happy to see him or not.
