Page 31 of When the Marquess Was Mine
“That is a very kind and clever horse,” she murmured.
“Far more so than our man deserved,” Rob agreed. “Soaked, exhausted, and limping badly on his turned ankle, the fellow went not into the house but to the mews. He left the door open, and opened the stall door, too. The horse, he knew, must be just as cold and wet and tired as he was, but still it waited outside, not trusting him yet. It would not come inside for the grooms or any of the stable lads.
“The fellow got some more carrots, and went back into the rain. The horse ate his carrots. When the man went back into the stable, the horse followed him, and allowed him to brush it. The man did not leave until he had brushed and curried the horse from head to tail. He covered it with a blanket and brought it a bucket of oats. He filled the water trough and turned fresh straw into the stall, and then—only then—did the horse allow him to stroke its neck and muzzle.
“After that the fellow was much more considerate of his horse. He exercised it each day, and groomed it himself. He sent it to the country every summer, and when he could not ride, he made certain someone would visit the animal and bring it a carrot or an apple. And the horse never ran away again, even when the stall door was left open, because now it was treated with the respect and care it deserved.”
She opened her eyes during the last part and watched him. “That’s an odd story. Where did you hear it?”
“An old woman told it to me as a young lad.”
A smile hovered on her lips at this blatant lie. “Did she offer you some enchanted beans, too?”
Rob grinned and stroked his fingertips over her hand. “No. Just the tale.”
Georgiana turned to face him. “Rob. Really. Am I supposed to be the horse in this story?”
“Of course not,” he said indignantly. “You look nothing like a horse. Haven’t even got four feet.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t, actually.” He touched her hand again, now that it lay on the pillow between them. “I don’t remember.”
Her brow wrinkled, and she bit her lip.
“I’m not asking you to tell me,” he added. Gently he touched her cheek, letting his thumb drift over her lips. They were velvety soft, and the urge to lean forward was almost overwhelming. Just one kiss... after being betrothed two long years...
Don’t be an idiot, he rebuked himself.You dug this hole, and it won’t be easy to climb out.
“I suspect I don’t want to know,” he added. “Let the past stay past. All I want is a chance to start anew.”
Her eyes were shadowed. “I’m not sure it’s that simple...”
“Pretend we’ve only just met.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles once, then again, letting his lips linger on her skin. Her pulse was warm and quick against his lips. “Enchanted to make your acquaintance, my lady.”
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “And I yours, my lord.”
He grinned, pressing her hand to his thumping heart. “That’s a fine beginning.”
And this time, he meant to make the most of it.
Chapter 10
To Georgiana’s immense relief, Rob did not ask to go outside again.
His head was much better, he declared, and he kept adding pillows behind his back until he was almost upright. He asked her to read more, as the light no longer bothered him, and she ended up spending one of the pleasantest days she’d had in Derbyshire in his room. Geneva brought in her embroidery to listen, Mother Winston brought another poultice—although Rob folded it over the top of his head instead of on his face—and even Kitty came by for a short visit, professing herself vastly relieved to see him feeling so well.
Rob continued to be charming and lighthearted. He didn’t tell any more silly stories, but he offered commentary on the stories she read, which always sent Geneva, and often Georgiana as well, into gales of laughter. He did have dimples, she realized, deep ones on either side of his mouth that showed themselves every time he laughed. He looked ridiculous with the poultice on his head, and he seemed merely amused by it.
At times Georgiana almost convinced herself he was another man entirely. The Marquess of Westmorland, as she remembered him, was becoming more and more nebulous in her mind. Instead there was only Rob, who was not Sterling but neither was he really Westmorland.
She knew this state of affairs couldn’t last, but she still had no idea how to unwind it.
Kitty intercepted her that evening after dinner. Yet again she had taken her meal on a tray in the sickroom with Rob. His appetite was returning, and he’d said that he meant to start dining with the family soon. Georgiana said she looked forward to that, even though she had become rather fond of dining alone with him.
“Can you spare a few minutes in the garden with me?” Kitty asked, looking tense.
“Of course.” Georgiana followed her friend outside. It was twilight, and the thrushes were stirring in the bushes.
