“Your jacket, your Grace,” the butler gasped, as soon as he was close enough to be heard. “It is entirely too cold, and not… not proper for you to be out of doors without it.”
The man’s meaning was plain, even without the pointed look he shot at Miss Brookford.
Grimacing, William took the jacket and slid it on. “Thank you.”
“Shall I escort Miss Brookford back to the house?”
William glanced at her, waiting for her to answer. Miss Brookford met his gaze and held it, the instant seeming to drag out forever before she spoke.
“No, thank you,” she said at last. “I can find my way back.”
The butler pursed his lips, glancing at William for confirmation. He gave a short nod, and the butler barely repressed a sigh, turning and heading back towards the house.
At that moment, the horse seemed to take offence at the butler’s tone, giving a sharp whinny and half rearing up onto its back hooves.
William gave a yelp of fear before he could stop himself, backing away at once.
“It’s alright, your Grace,” Miss Brookford said at once, laying a hand on his arm. It was as if she were trying to soothe him, rather than the horse. “This fellow is just a little uncertain around new people. You said he had not been ridden much?”
William swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No. Not at all. He… he has never been aggressive towards anyone else. He doesn’t bite, or kick, although I can’t help but worry that he might. I am sorry, I should not have dragged you into all this. It’s not your concern. I… I would be grateful if you didn’t mention the horse. People may think I ought to have had him killed, after he threw my father.”
Miss Brookford tilted her head. “I’m inclined to blame the rider, rather than the horse. I hope that doesn’t offend you, by the way.”
He allowed himself a small smile. “No, you would be right. My father… well, he believed that horses must be broken. He employed whips and spurs and so on, and he expected me to do the same. I… I have never been much good at horse riding. I never had a taste for it, even before…” he swallowed reflexively, eyeing the horse. “Certainly not after.”
Miss Brookford nodded slowly, following his gaze. She took a careful step towards the fence, reaching out a hand to the horse. William stiffened, fighting back his urge to grab her and haul her back out of danger.
She laid her hand on the horse’s nose. The creature only snorted, lipping at her fingers in hopes of more carrots. When it was clear that there were none, it only flicked its ears in disappointment.
“It’s a sweet animal,” she said quietly. “I bet I could ride this horse. I betyoucould, your Grace. Horses like this don’t allow themselves to be forced. One mustpersuade.”
“I would rather die than ride that horse. Or any horse, for that matter.”
She gave a chuckle at that. “Well, that reallyisnone of my concern, I suppose. But riding is such excellent exercise, you know.”
“I’m sure you are correct but I prefer to get my exercise elsewhere.”
Seeing that there were no more carrots to be had, the horse gave another whinny, tossed his head, and turned to gallop back across the paddock, beginning a wide circuit of the field. His glossy mane rippled in the wind, and William felt a flash of guilt.
How often is this creature exercised? Did I ever bother to find out?
“I expect you’re shocked that I kept the horse after it killed my father,” he said aloud. “I haven’t an excuse for you, if that’s what you want to hear. I simply couldn’t bear to get rid of it. It didn’t seem fair.”
She tilted her head, looking up at him. “I was thinking nothing of the sort. It’s your business, and if your father was as cruel towards his horses as you say, I’m not surprised that one of them threw him.”
William swallowed hard, watching the horse gallop. “It was meant to be me riding him, you know. I wouldn’t, because I saw that the horse was nervy. It was more than that, though. I was afraid, frankly. I often wonder whether I would have died instead, if I’d gotten into that saddle.”
“Perhaps you might have been hurt,” she acknowledged. “But you are a very different man to your father. I think things would have been different.”
He glanced sharply at her. “Some people think that I am very much like him.”
She held his gaze. “I think differently. Do youwantto be like him?”
“No!” the word was out, bitten off and angry, before William could stop himself. Miss Brookford did not flinch. She only nodded, as if he had confirmed something for her.
“There you are, then. I think you should ride again, if you want my opinion. We could ride together.”
He swallowed. “Perhaps.”
