“Both,” she said. “Though I like novels as well. They may not be as improving, but they are… diverting.”
“Diversions have their place,” he agreed. “But I find history best. It teaches us what not to repeat.”
“Yes,” Matilda added thoughtfully. “Though I sometimes think it also teaches us that mistakes are inevitable. We cannot help but repeat them, in different guises.”
Greyson paused, studying her carefully. “That is a more honest answer than most would give.”
Matilda dipped her head, feeling heat creep along her cheeks. “I do not know if honesty is wise.”
“Wisdom is overrated,” he replied calmly. “Truth is of greater worth.”
Cordelia let out a dramatic sigh. “What a serious table this has become! First roses, now truth. We shall all grow pious if we sit here much longer.”
Mason grinned, nudging his wife, who only lifted her brows at him. Evelyn, ever gentle, steered Cordelia back toward a lighter tale, leaving Greyson’s attention on Matilda.
He leaned forward slightly, though his voice remained even. “I should like to hear what else you read, what else you think.”
Polite. Respectful. Perfectly correct.
And suddenly, absurdly, she missed the fire of banter.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jasper drew a deep breath as he adjusted his gloves, the familiar weight of the reins steady in his hands. A hunt was precisely what he needed: speed, movement, the thunder of hooves beneath him. Nothing cleared his head so well as the rhythm of horse and rider, no thought intruding except the next fence, the next stretch of open ground.
Stop thinking about her,he told himself.This is what you need.
But the gods had a cruel sense of humor, for there she was, trotting toward the gathering with Evelyn and Hazel at her side, with her cheeks pink with the morning air and her posture graceful yet assured. And unlike them, she was not perched delicately sidesaddle… she rodeastride.
The sight jolted him like a lash.
His protective instincts flared sharp and fierce. Did she not know the whispers that would rise the instant the rest of thecompany saw her? Did she not care? His jaw tightened, and he had to force his fingers to loosen on the reins before his horse grew restless beneath him.
The picture of her with her skirts parted for the saddle, her back straight and her eyes alight with concentration burned itself into his mind, both infuriating and utterly captivating.
Robert, at his side, noticed his stiff posture. “Something amiss?”
Jasper forced a laugh, though it sounded thin. “Only that I was hoping for a distraction today, and instead it seems distraction has decided to chase me.”
The ladies guided their horses closer. Evelyn smiled warmly, Hazel was serene as ever, while Matilda of course wore that cool, composed look that only sharpened the heat rising in Jasper’s chest.
“You cannot be serious,” he muttered as they drew near. His stallion sidestepped, restless beneath his hands. “It is too dangerous.”
Matilda tilted her head, her pale grey eyes glinting. “Dangerous? We are riding, not storming a battlefield.”
“You know very well what I mean.” His tone was sharper than he intended. “This ground is rough. The fences high. If you fall?—”
“If I fall,” she interrupted, her voice maddeningly calm, “then I fall doing what I chose to do. Not whatyouchose for me.”
Jasper clenched his jaw. Banter he could parry, butthis, her quiet defiance, left him off balance. She was not wrong, and it rattled him more than he cared to admit.
“Besides,” she added sweetly, leaning just a fraction forward in her saddle, “you had better worry for yourself. I would hate for you to lag behind. It would be most embarrassing for a duke to lose to a dowager.”
Robert barked out a laugh. “I should very much like to see that.”
“Don’t encourage her,” Jasper growled, though his lips twitched despite himself.
Matilda smirked. “Afraid, Your Grace?”
