Harry smiled, a little surprised by the fact that his newfound cousins could make him do so with such regularity. They were indeed a family it was hard not to smile at or with. “I’m afraid with my leg, he won’t be doing any hunting in the near future. If he’s old, he might prefer some gentle hacking with me.”
Megs had already turned away from him. “Mama, Mama, Cousin Harry is here.”
Melissa’s pretty face appeared around the barn door. She looked over her shoulder, back into the barn. “And he’s riding Lochinvar, Mama.”
Would Lady Madeley be offended by his choice of horse? She hadsuggested it. Sort of. Not that he’d had much choice. Probably simple young Archie Miller had just assumed he’d be riding the master’s horse because he was now the master himself.
Miranda emerged from the barn.
His mouth fell open before he could prevent it.
Her habit was of a deep blue, and on top of her glorious golden curls sat a smart matching blue hat. Her only nod to mourning was the black armband she wore. Leather gloves were on her hands, and she carried a short crop. “Sir Henry, how very nice to see you. And Lochinvar. The girls have been twitting me all morning about you. And they’ve been kind enough to groom and saddle my horse for me.” That sweet smile again, the one that hid so many things. “As you are no doubt aware, we have no groom here at Rampton so we must accomplish all our outside chores ourselves.”
Could he employ someone to help them, or would she be offended? He could send one of his own servants down, perhaps. It didn’t seem right that he had two grooms to prepare his horse for him, and clean out their stables, when she had no one. Although her daughters didn’t look as though they minded the horse-related chores.
He smiled back. “You’re lucky in your charming and capable daughters.”
Miriam, the middle one he’d not really had much to do with so far, came out leading a handsome bay horse a few inches shorter than Lochinvar. Being much more lightly built and, by its head, possibly boasting some Arab blood, it was very much a lady’s horse. Miriam led the horse across to a substantial stone mounting block and positioned it for her mother.
For a moment Harry was relieved to see they possessed a mounting block, before his heart sank at the thought that he was going to have to get on using it in front of them all. For some reason he didn’t want any of them thinking him less capable than other men. Than their father and Sir Julian. Damn and blast this leg of his.
Miranda mounted with dexterity and arranged the skirts of her habit, then turned her horse away from the mounting block. She met his gaze. “I strongly approve of the use of mounting blocks, for they avoid undue strain on the horse’s back caused by a less than agile rider mounting from the ground. I’m sure you’re not ungainly, but if you wouldn’t mind obliging? I would hate to think any horse might have his back ruined, so I insist on everyone using the block.”
Were her words deliberate? Was she a mind reader?
More than relieved, whatever the reason for her words, he nodded and led his horse to the block then climbed onto it. An easy job to mount from there.
“I’ll do the gate for you,” Megs called, and ran to open it.
Harry and Miranda rode side by side through the gate, onto which Megs had now climbed, a little precariously, and out into the lane. Megs jumped down and closed the gate then leaned on it to watch them go. Glancing over his shoulder, Harry saw that her sisters had joined her. All three of them were watching his and their mother’s progress up the lane. He had the distinct impression they resembled a small coven of witches with some kind of plan afoot. But what it was, he had no idea.
Miranda watched Harryout of the corner of her eye. She’d noted his awkward unwillingness to dismount to tackle their gate from her position in the barn, as well as his reluctance to take his weight on his bad leg. She also hadn’t missed the worry in his eyes and correctly put it down to his own doubts about remounting. Which was why she’d helped him. She always liked to help people and ease life for them if she could. It was part of her nature as much as loving horses was.
Of course, she didn’t know exactly how or where he’d been wounded or by what, but it was apparent from the way he moved that his leg was involved, and perhaps also his back, from the way he often put a hand to it and tried to stretch. She knew nothing of battlewounds, but if he’d been injured so extensively he must be lucky to be alive. Her gentle heart had already gone out to him. He was one of the brave warriors who’d defeated Bonaparte. And he wasn’t even a man who had gone out there to fight. No, he was a man who’d gone out there to put back together the fighting men, to try to heal them, to try to save them. And to have been injured, he must have been in the forefront of battle despite being a doctor. Would he ever tell her about it? Instinct told her it would take careful drawing out.
The thought that it should have been Lissy riding out with him so he could get to know her better arose, but she pushed it aside. She could use some of this time to sing her daughter’s praises. And besides, it was some time since she’d ridden Traveler out for pure pleasure. And this was what this would be. The feel of her horse moving freely under her, the slight breeze in her face, the sun’s warm rays and the joy of not having to think about the farmhouse and how to manage it with next to no money raised her spirits. Not to mention that she was riding out in the company of a handsome young man who seemed delighted to be with her. She could almost imagine herself to be young again.
It was indeed a lovely day. For September, the weather remained unusually warm, and the intermittent shade provided by the trees along the edge of the lane provided welcome respite from the heat. A few late flies buzzed around the horses’ heads and in the sky the last of the migratory swallows and martins soared on the thermals.
She turned to her escort. Only really, it was she who was his escort, if she thought about it. “Where would you like to go first, Sir Henry?”
He turned his head. He was wearing a beaver hat that had seen better days but somehow suited his rather careworn appearance. Shadows lurked beneath his dark eyes. For someone who was supposed to be in recovery, he really didn’t look well.
The ghost of a smile lit his face. “If we are to ride out togetherevery day, I would far rather you called me Harry, as my sisters do. Calling me Henry makes me feel quite old and staid, and adding in the ‘sir’ as well caps it all. I would rather be plain Harry to my new family.”
She smiled, liking him all the more for this easy familiarity. A familiarity that had always been lacking with Geoffrey. “Then would you return the favor and address me as Miranda?”
There could be no harm in that. They were cousins, after all, albeit relatively distant ones. No one could reprimand her for returning his familiarity.
A smile slipped over his face, as though this was something he’d wanted. “It will be a pleasure to do so…Miranda. Such a lovely name. I would praise your parents for having chosen it if I were to meet them. It means ‘worthy of adoration’ and is very aptly bestowed upon you.”
Good heavens. Was he flirting? Warmth flooded her cheeks. Whatever was she feeling like this for? Like a blushing schoolgirl. She frowned in an effort to restore her equilibrium. “I am afraid you will never get the opportunity. My mother died shortly after my marriage and my father followed her rapidly to the grave. Theirs was a love match and he simply could not go on without her. I know they say you can’t die for love, but I believe very strongly that you can.”
He nodded gravely. “As do I.” He squinted into the bright sunshine. “I confess myself disappointed not to have been able to meet such a devoted couple. But surely you have other family? I mean, other than your charming daughters.”
This was better. He must surely mean Lissy when he said they were charming, although she feared Lissy, when crossed, could be anything but charming. She must control that little flutter in her heart at the sound of his pleasingly deep voice and the way his head was tilted a little to one side as he listened to her.
She shook her head, relieved at the direction in which the conversation was heading. “I had a brother, but he is now gone as well, I’mafraid.” Tobias’s face rose up before her but she pushed him firmly away. It had been a long time since she’d thought about him. “What about you?”
