Page 14 of A Scot's Pride
“When did ye learn to ride?” he asked.
“Oh, I can’t quite remember.” She smoothed a hand on her mare’s neck and muttered something to the horse. “Probably whenever I learned to walk. We are always in London for the season, but for the rest of the year, we reside in the country. We have a lovely cottage just south of the Scottish border in Sunderland.”
Bryson swallowed. So, she was familiar with country life, with riding. He thought about Aunt Bertie’s wink. About how Freya wasn’t on the list. He’d need to ask her why. “Ah, is that so,” he managed. “On the coast.”
“Yes.” She smiled wistfully, closing her eyes for a moment, and he pictured her smelling the salt in the sea-sprayed air. Standing on the shore as the wind rustled her hair and the sun kissed her skin. “I miss it, to be honest.” She glanced at him. “London is fun for the theater, but I truly prefer to be outdoors.”
Bryson swallowed—again. Once more she’d taken him by surprise. And he certainly would never have guessed he’d hear her echo his thoughts. “I feel the same.”
She giggled and gave her parasol a little twirl. “You did look quite pained at the garden party. Pardon my boldness.”
He chuckled softly. “Do ye think anyone else noticed?”
A serious expression filled her face, though her eyes seemed to dance with humor as she slowly shook her head. “Not at all, my lord.” There was a definite layer of sarcasm to her words.
“I dinna believe ye.”
“You probably shouldn’t.” She laughed, then glanced behind her before shutting her parasol and hooking it against the saddle.
“Your mother will have your head if ye dinna use your parasol,” he teased.
Freya held her fingers to her lips and made a “shh” noise. “I looked. She’s not watching anymore. So, she’ll never know as long as you don’t tell her.”
Bryson grinned.
“I do adore your aunt,” she said, changing the subject. “Lady Daven is a delight.”
“She seemed fond of ye as well.” And that was true. He was still puzzled by their relationship. Perhaps Bertie would be forthcoming at this afternoon’s tea.
“She has been much help whenever I’m in London.” Freya surprised him by offering up an anecdote of her own.
“How so?”
“She talks some sense into my mother.”
He smiled. “The lady does have a talent for sense.”
“And how do you get on with her sister, Lady Heaton?”
Bryson blanched. How did this woman know so much about his family?
“Well, they are not exactly two peas in a pod,” he said. Though his Aunt Simone didn’t often venture into London anymore. She remained on her estate near Newcastle Upon Tyne with Bryson’s younger sister Lucy, whom everyone assumed he’d sent away.
“I’ve never met her, though she’s not too far from my family’s estate in Sunderland. But Lady Daven has told me much about her. Do you ever visit her?”
Bryson nodded. “Not as much as she’d like, I know, but I do.”
“Families can be…” She trailed off as if realizing she shouldn’t have started the thought aloud.
“Tricky?” he offered.
She laughed. “That is being polite about it.”
“Ye have four sisters? Any brothers?” It was time he asked about her and moved away from his family before he accidentally let something else slip that he didn’t want to share.
“Yes, four sisters, but no brothers. However, I do have a pesky cousin, Albert, who plans to visit us soon. I will be honest and admit his visit will be, what did you say, tricky?”
“Why is that?” He cocked his head, genuinely curious.
