Colin’s horse whinnied, drawing his attention. “It would appear that my horse is eager to stretch his legs,” he remarked. “Shall we race back?”
“It won’t be much of a race,” John joked as he kicked his horse into a run.
* * *
With the morningsun peeking through the trees, Arabella sat on a fallen log near the stream. It felt good to be alone, even though her thoughts kept constantly returning to Colin. She tried banishing him from her mind, but she didn’t have the strength to do so.
What was she to do? Her heart was softening towards him, and she knew she was setting herself up for heartache. She couldn’t let him in, not again. It was much safer to keep him at arm’s length.
The sound of rustling bushes nearby drew her attention. She quickly rose and stepped closer to her horse. She hadn’t made it into her saddle before the young boy from the village emerged from the bushes, holding a dead pheasant in his hand.
“Peter?” Arabella questioned.
Peter’s face grew white as he came to an abrupt halt.
She glanced down at the pheasant in his hand and realization dawned. “Are you poaching on Lord Barrett’s land?”
He hesitated for a moment before admitting, “I am.”
“Do you not know the consequences for poaching?”
“I do.”
“Then why would you risk going to jail?”
Peter’s eyes grew wide. “I can’t go to jail,” he said. “I have to take care of my mother.”
“Does your mother know you are poaching?”
He shook his head. “She doesn’t.”
“How is that possible?”
“She works long hours at the milliner’s, and she leaves for work before the sun comes up,” Peter said. “Sometimes she doesn’t come home until after sundown.”
“If that is the case, then surely she makes enough wages for you not to poach.”
“Her wages barely cover the rent,” Peter explained.
“There must be another way to make an honest wage.”
Peter shook his head. “I’ve tried, but no one will hire me.”
“Why not?”
A pained look came to his face. “Ye wouldn’t understand,” he said.
Arabella could hear the pain in his voice, and she found compassion swelling up inside of her. “I shall speak to my grandmother and see if we can get you hired on at her manor.”
His eyes grew wide. “You would do that for me?”
“I would, but you must promise me that you will stop poaching.”
“I will have no need if I can make an honest wage.”
“That is good.”
Peter shifted the pheasant to his other hand as he nervously asked, “Are you going to tell Lord Barrett?”
