“We did. We assuredly did. Our snowball fights were second only to sledge races.” He laughed.
“Andyouwarnmeto be careful?” Rosalyn teased; one brow raised.
The duke chuckled. “Quite so.”
“Your Grace?” A voice spoke from behind them. The duke turned around and Rosalyn spotted Georgina and Isabel standing close. They gazed hopefully up at the duke. “Um...could we perhaps take the horses out, later?” Georgina asked.
“We have not had a ride in ever so long. And we miss our horses at home,” Isabel added.
Rosalyn looked at the duke. His face was set in a stern expression, and she stiffened, trying to think of some way of easing his temper. But when he spoke, he sounded quite untroubled.
“We will certainly have to exercise them later,” the duke replied gently. “But I do not intend to take them on a ride when it is so cold. If it becomes warmer in the next few days, then I promise you that you may ride with me to exercise them.” He paused. “You are of course included, Miss Rothwell.” His gaze held hers gently.
She coughed. “Thank you,” she said quickly, ignoring her sisters’ confused gazes. “I would like that.”
The duke cleared his throat. “Well, then. Ladies, you ought to get back to the house. It is warm enough in the stables, but it is terribly cold out there. I think we would all do well to proceed inside. I will inform you when the horses need to be exercised,” he added to Georgina and Isabel, who both inclined their heads in polite thanks.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Georgina murmured.
“Much obliged, Your Grace,” Isabel added.
Rosalyn looked up at the duke. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“I did nothing,” the duke muttered, looking down. Rosalyn’s brow creased. Anyone would think he was shy.
Nonsense, she told herself firmly. He probably feels impatient with our awkward thanks. She followed him out of the stable, cheeks flaring. She had to remind herself that this was a rude, bitter man and she should not lose vigilance.
They walked out of the stable and into the cold. Rosalyn winced. Her fingers ached, the cold sawing through the thin, damp fabric of her gloves. She folded her fingers inwards into the palms of her hands, wincing with the pain.
“Miss?” The duke asked, turning around. Rosalyn flushed. She had not realised she had made an audible sound of pain.
“Yes?” she asked, fighting not to make it obvious how much her fingers were hurting.
“Are you quite well?” the duke asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “You sounded distressed.”
“I am quite well,” Rosalyn managed to say through clenched teeth, fighting to hold back another grunt of pain. They were almost at the house. She felt a desperate urgency to run inside to where her hands could get warm again. “It is just...the cold.”
“You are not properly dressed,” the duke said gravely. “It is cold here in the Midlands, Miss Rothwell. Please, be careful,” he added, standing back so that she and her sisters could rush in through the front door.
“I will,” Rosalyn managed to say, the pain worsening. She turned, ignoring the duke’s concern. Her sisters were hurrying up the stairs, giggling and chatting away among themselves. Released from the duke’s stern presence, they were as loud and cheerful as always. She curtseyed to the duke.
“Good day,” she managed to say, keeping her voice level despite the pain in her fingers.
“...and I need a new riding gown,” Georgina was saying as she went upstairs. “My old one is quite worn out on the...seat,” she continued, going bright red. Rosalyn chuckled under her breath and even Isabel laughed.
“Papa will buy new fabric for us,” Isabel said softly. “He said we could have two bolts of cloth for Christmas.”
“Hurrah! I can’t wait.”
“I already decided I want a new blue ballgown,” Isabel confided. Rosalyn, walking a few paces behind them, smiled at their innocent chatter.
If only I could feel excited about Christmas, she thought sadly. With the looming prospect of her new life at Stallenwood set to start the week after Christmas, she could not find it in her heart to feel real excitement like Georgina and Isabel evidently did.
“He’s so quiet,” Georgina confided as they all piled into Rosalyn’s room, as they did at home, to warm up and chat after the walk.
“He did say we could ride, though,” Isabel commented. “I think he seems rather pleasant. If a little reserved,” she added, glancing at Rosalyn.
“I think that could be so,” Rosalyn said noncommittally.
