And then it was done. He was on the horse. Cinnamon twisted around to look at him, then ducked her head to crop at a patch of grass.
“Nicely done,” Miss Brookford said. She did sound genuinely impressed. “You seem to be a good rider.”
“How can you tell that from my sitting in the saddle?”
“Ah, a good seat on a horse is the key to it all.”
She climbed nimbly up onto her own horse, who pranced with delight at the prospect of finally setting off.
“Shall we?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows at William.
He paused, glancing down at the horse’s neck. The creature seemed entirely content to stand still. She made no sudden movements, no signs of irritation that he was on her back, and certainly no bucking or jerking.
Tentatively, William tapped his heels against the horse’s sides. She moved forward at once at a slow, rolling walk. Despite himself, he gave a squawk and clutched at the reins.
Miss Brookford chuckled, falling into step beside him.
“And how do you feel?”
“Well, I don’t feel excellent. I feel a little sick, to be frank, but it’s… it’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be.”
“I’m glad.”
They followed the fence which encircled the courtyard, all the way to where the gate gaped open, and a gravel path led up towards steep hills. He glanced over at Miss Brookford, whose profile was turned towards him and her gaze fixed on the road ahead, and a wave of powerful affection washed over him.
I love you.
No, I mustn’t. I mustn’t.
Perhaps sensing his gaze on her, she glanced over and gave him a smile.
“Do you feel up to something a little faster?”
“I… I don’t know…” he stammered.
Behind them, the groom gave a squawk. He had barely begun saddling up the horse, and seemed a trifle horrified to see Miss Brookford and his master moving away.
“Wait a moment, your Grace, wait a moment!”
Miss Brookford met his eye and grinned mischievously.
“Shall we?”
There was no time to ask what she meant. Miss Brookford tapped her horse’s flanks with the heels, and immediately the creature broke into a run, head straining joyfully forward.
William could have stopped Cinnamon from following. He remembered enough about how to check a horse, how to handle the reins, and how to sit.
He didn’t.
Cinnamon lurched forward, following her new friend, and William sucked in a deep, surprised breath.
How long had it been since he’d ridden a horse? He hadn’t always hated it. Fear sparked sharply in his gut, and he leaned forward automatically, clutching the reins. The horse sped up, faster and faster until he knew without a doubt that it was the mare who was in control, not him.
Miss Brookford and Stepper raced ahead, her skirts and hair billowing out behind her.
Abruptly, the path levelled out, and William realized with a pang of surprise that they were there, they had reached the summit.
And, of course, that they were alone. The shouting groom was long gone, left behind. William couldn’t see any signs that they were being followed.
