He only realized his daughter’s brown and white-spotted mare was straying off the path when her voice grew quieter.
He pulled his horse up short. “Constance, keep next to me.”
She returned to the path, but in less than a minute, her mount was wandering away again.
“Constance,” he said.
“Give her a moment; the poor dear is hungry.” She patted her horse’s neck as the animal delicately plucked dandelions from the grass.
Olivia trotted her mount up next to him. “Have you seen Mr. Ringwell?”
“No, but the day is yet young,” he said.
Mr. Ringwell was meant to meet them during their second rotation of the park, which they had nearly completed. Thel’s idea was to show Constance that Mr. Ringwell was more than a silly village boy by displaying his more positive traits. As the boy was skilled with horses, and the park was a neutral enough ground, they started with riding.
“No Mr. Dawson, either,” Olivia said.
“He’ll come,” Thel said, speaking with more confidence than he felt. Dawson’s presence was another part of their plan. Thel presumed that having come from America, he would not be as confident on horseback and would serve as a contrast to Mr. Ringwell’s skill.
“I grow weary of playing the downtrodden lady already,” Olivia said. She stuck a finger between the high, black collar and her neck. “I did not expect to wear my widow’s weeds again so soon, but I needed them to settle into the role of the overwhelmed, downtrodden woman I must play to keep Mr.Dawson unaware of our plans. I wasn’t sure it would work until I closed the top button of my collar. It was like I was thrust back to those first few weeks after the funeral when I kept expecting the earl to rise from his grave and haunt me.”
Thel adjusted a black ostrich feather in her hat that had fallen forward. “It is not too late for me to get my dueling pistols out of storage.”
“Absolutely not.” She grasped the bottom of her bodice and tugged it down. “I will think of it as playing the role of myself from the darkest years of my marriage, with Mr. Dawson as the earl.”
Thel gave an exaggerated shudder. “Please do not speak of such things.”
Olivia’s giggles were interrupted by the sound of rapidly approaching hoofbeats. Thel turned in time to see Constance shift from cooing over her horse to gaping at the transformed Mr. Ringwell.
Thel could hardly recognize the boy. He was dressed as regally as a duke in a tan tailcoat with notched lapels. The high collar of his snowy-white shirt was held in place by a dark-green cravat, and his black leather riding boots gleamed.
“Good morning, Lady Constance,” he said. His horse dipped its head and drew one leg back in a rather spectacular bow.
Constance stared at Mr. Ringwell for so long that Thel wondered if she had even heard the boy speak.
“Connie,” Mr. Ringwell said softly.
She snapped her jaw shut and flicked her reins, but her mare refused to budge.
Mr. Ringwell rode next to her mare and peered at her saddle. “Looks like she sucked in air. Shall I fix it?”
“That would be most convenient, Mr. Ringwell.”
As Mr. Ringwell dismounted, Thel leaned closer to Olivia and whispered, “I think it’s working.”
Samuel Ringwell had not been “Mr. Ringwell” to his daughter for as long as he could remember. He hoped her referring to him in a more formal manner suggested she was seeing him as more than a childhood friend.
When Mr. Ringwell finished cinching Constance’s saddle, they continued along the loop.
It was comfortable riding beside Olivia while watching over his daughter. It almost felt as if she were his wife. If they had not been waiting for Dawson to swoop in and disrupt the moment, he might have suggested they find a chaperone for Constance and sneak off to enjoy themselves.
“I wish we were somewhere more private,” Olivia said. She licked her bottom lip. “Perhaps when this is over, you might pay me a visit. I have several fascinating implements I believe you would quite enjoy.”
He remembered the glint of metal on her breasts, and his trousers were suddenly too tight. He had learned more about intimate acts from her in a few short days than he had ever gleaned from his dusty texts.
He sidled his horse closer. “It would be my pleasure.”
She squeezed his thigh. “My dear, there would be enough pleasure for both of us.”
