Doubtfully, she searched his face. Then, she smiled once again, sending rushing-brook bubbles of anticipation spilling through hischest.
“I would like to ride with you.”
Remarkably, he liked looking at his wife. He liked when his wife looked at him. He especially liked when his wife looked at him and smiled.
How could he inspire more of those smiles? Where on the estate could he take her that would bring her pleasure?
When an answer came to him—the priory ruins—he did not think too deeply.
After all, with a distant sight of a picturesque collection of thatched cottages, but full of privacy-affording nooks, multiple published estate guides agreed the ruins were the most romantic place on the estate. And ladies liked romance, did they not?
He called for the groom to saddle their horses.
“I know just where to take you,” he said, ignoring the slight discomfort that, if examined, might have served as both warning and reminder that he’d also met Viv there on many clandestine occasions.
Chapter Five
As Cassie’s andHarbury’s horses trotted along the bridle path, the same patch of sun that had opened over the hall expanded. As they drew up alongside a clearing in the woods, additional bands of light broke through, casting shafts across the fields. Cassie couldn’t imagine what the trees hid, but from Harbury’s boyish excitement, she suspected they concealed something grand.
Something special.
She took in a deep breath of country air, straining her stays. Their gallop left her feeling expansive, free, a stark contrast to her general mood over the past few weeks. With all this wide, beautiful world within reach, how could she focus only on what was wrong in her life?
Despite reservations, she did have cause to hope, didn’t she?
With a sidelong glance, she took her husband’s measure.
The wind had disheveled his hair, sending sandy locks into his face. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright, and his lips curled into a smile similar to her own. Thank heavens he no longer appeared as distressed as he had when she’d first entered his study.
She’d opened the door without knocking, fully prepared to give him a sound scolding. Instead, she’d locked gazes with the vacant-eyed steward. Then, she’d seen Harbury leaning over his desk with his head tucked into his chest.
She could have sworn he’d been about to cast up his accounts.
Concern had instantly replaced her anger.
She believed his distress had something to do with the steward.For reasons she could not quite put into words, she didn’t trust Anderson. Something in the man’s expression suggested he did not hold either Harbury, or herself, in esteem.
Not that she had much experience with stewards.
Her father had not employed a steward at Willowhurst; he’d made do with a secretary and used a local solicitor as bailiff. But both secretary and solicitor had treated all the Wainwrights, mother and daughters included, with respect.
They would not have failed to greet her mother if she’d entered her father’s study, as Anderson had—not that her mother would ever have done so, uninvited. And they would not have needed to be asked to leave. Twice. Possibly even more, if Harbury had asked Anderson to leave before she entered.
“Shall we dismount?” Harbury suggested. “I’d like to show you something.”
They had not brought a groom, so helping her dismount and remount would be her husband’s office. She wasn’t entirely sure Harbury was experienced enough to do so. But certainly, he would have had cause to help his sister on and off her horse more than once.
And how could she refuse him when he’d such a mischievous sparkle in his eyes?
That sparkle promised not only a treat, but a treat he’d chosen to share specifically with her.
She nodded.
He dismounted military-style, lifting his right leg over the horse’s head. Then, he leapt off and smoothly landed on both feet. She could think of no reason for him having done so unless he hadn’t wanted to break eye contact.Terribly romantic.
As he came to stand by her side, he swept his hair back into place. Then he turned up his face and held out his hand encouragingly.
First, she handed down her crop. Then, she nervously adjusted her skirts, preparing to lift her own leg over her sidesaddle’s pommel.She’d done so thousands of times, but never while her husband was gazing up in expectation, arms aloft.
