Tristan followed eagerly, quickening his pace to keep up. “Can I ride with you? The groom said I’m a natural.”
“As tempting as that sounds,” Dominic said, “I would like to spend time with Dorothea alone this morning.”
Dorothea glanced over in surprise. “You would?”
He met her eyes without hesitation. “I would.”
A flush bloomed on her cheeks at his quiet sincerity, and she ducked her head. “I would like that, too,” she murmured.
They descended the stairs together. Tristan tagged along behind until they reached the entry hall, where Anna stood waiting with her arms crossed and one foot tapping furiously against the marble floor.
“Tristan,” she scolded, “you were meant to remain in the nursery while I fetched your breakfast. Now it’s gone cold.”
“I don’t mind cold food,” he said with a shrug.
“Well, good, because you’re going to eat every last bite,” she retorted, pointing firmly towards the staircase. “And don’t think I’ll take my eyes off you today—not for a moment.”
Tristan sighed with theatrical resignation and began his reluctant march back upstairs.
Dorothea giggled. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t laugh, but she has her hands full with that one.”
“She certainly does,” Dominic agreed.
Wright appeared and bowed to them. “If you would care to wait here, my lord, the horses will be brought around to the front.”
Dominic shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. We’ll retrieve them ourselves.”
“As you wish,” Wright replied, stepping aside.
They exited through the side doors and walked down a gravel path bordered by clipped hedges and blooming flowers.
“Did you manage to sleep?” Dominic asked as they walked.
“A little,” she said. “But not much.”
He gave a quiet nod. “I dozed off and on. Still, it was far preferable to the nightmare I was having before you woke me.”
She turned her head towards him, her brow faintly furrowed. “Do you… often get nightmares?”
“More often than I would like,” he admitted, not quite meeting her gaze.
She didn’t press him further, only nodded in understanding.
As they reached the stable yard, a liveried footman was leading out two horses. He halted in front of them and bowed slightly. “Your horses, my lord,” he announced, holding out the reins.
Dorothea accepted hers and moved to the side of her mare.
“Allow me,” Dominic said, stepping forward and crouching to offer his hands.
She placed her boot in his cupped palms and let him lift her into the saddle. Once she was properly seated, she glanced down at him with a soft expression. “Thank you,” she said.
Now that Dorothea was securely in the saddle, Dominic turned to mount his own horse. But the moment his foot found the stirrup, a sharp, jarring whinny split the air. To his horror, Dorothea’s horse reared onto its hind legs, front hooves pawing at the sky. She let out a startled gasp, her hands gripping the reins instinctively—but it was too late.
The horse bucked violently, and Dorothea was thrown.
She hit the ground with a sickening thud, her body crumpling on the gravel.
“Get these horses away from us!” Dominic bellowed, hurling his reins towards the stunned footman. His boots scraped against the gravel as he rushed to her side.
