Page 58 of The Burdened Duke
For one awful, heart-stopping moment, William thought that she was going to suggest that he ride the stallion.
He wasn’t entirely sure what he would have done if she did. Faint, perhaps? Was he going to swoon, right there on the stable courtyard?
The panic only lasted a second. Lavinia headed back towards the stable, jerking her head for him to follow.
“We can’t go alone,” William said, finding himself following. “I’ll ask a groom to accompany us.”
“If you like.”
He flagged down a passing stable boy, the lad’s eyes betraying his surprise when he saw William and Miss Brookford.
“This one should suit you,” Miss Brookford said, leading out a sedate-looking chestnut mare. He vaguely recognized the horse as an old favourite of Katherine’s.
“I… I am not sure I can do this, after all,” William stammered, eyeing the mare’s high back.
“Well, I shan’t insist, to be sure,” Miss Brookford said briskly, fetching a saddle down from its hook. “But let’s just saddle up the mare and go outside, and see how you feel, then. What do you say?”
He bit back a sigh. “Very well, very well.”
It was easiest to step back and simply let her get on with saddling up the mare, who stood mildly by. Miss Brookford’s horse – Stepper, wasn’t it? – watched in interest.
At last the mare – somewhere in his memory he recalled that her name was Cinnamon – was saddled up and ready, and waited patiently for her rider.
“Well, there it is,” Miss Brookford said. Lavinia. Her name was Lavinia. For some reason, it seemed more important to think of her asLaviniathan as Miss Brookford. “Why don’t you try and sit on her back, at least?”
He drew in a breath. She’d told him that she wouldn’t insist, and he was fairly sure that she would not. If he decided to return to the house now, she would not say a word.
Life is short. What will I have achieved if I turn back now?
Suddenly, William knew that if he did not climb on the horse now, today, he would never climb one again.
Drawing in a breath, he took a step towards the mare. She did not rear or roll her eyes, only watched his progress with mild interest. Miss Brookford slid a small mounting block towards the horse with her foot. He glared at her.
“I can get up without a mounting block, Miss Brookford.”
“I’m sure you can,” she answered, cheerfully. “But it will make things easier, don’t you think? Why don’t you give the mare some treats?”
“I haven’t anything.”
“Don’t worry. I thought ahead.”
She dug into a pocket and withdrew some browning apple slices, handing them over to William. The mare’s ears flicked in interest. He extended his hand, a piece of apple resting on his palm. The mare leaned delicately forward, lipping at his skin, and seemed toinhalethe piece of apple. She crunched happily, and William held his breath and touched the soft, warm hair along her nose.
“Hello, there, girl,” he managed at last, in the sort of soothing tone he thought that horses were meant to enjoy. “You’re a pretty one, eh?”
He was vaguely conscious of activity behind him, a groom preparing a horse to follow them, but the mare didn’t seem distracted at all. She watched him with large, liquid eyes, patiently waiting for what came next.
“You can do it, your Grace,” Miss Brookford said softly. “If anyone can do it, you can.”
Your Grace.What a clunky title. It wasn’t really a name at all. He’d heard her use his name before, and how wonderful it had sounded, coming from her.
Stop it,he thought angrily, pushing away the thoughts.This is about you getting on that wretched horse.
He immediately felt guilty for thinking of the poor mare in such angry terms. It wasn’therfault.
Drawing in a deep breath, he placed one hand on the warm leather of the saddle, put his opposite foot in the stirrup, and hauled himself up, just like he’d done a few times in the past before his father died.
The mare barely shifted under his weight. He wondered briefly if she knew that he was on her at all. Heart pounding with dread, William clutched at the reins, hastily fitting his other foot into the other stirrup.
