Page 36 of Fair as a Star

Beryl drew back to look at her. She couldn’t recall the last time her sister had taken a tumble. “When did this happen?”

“Last week. The morning your wedding dress arrived from Paris. I was riding past Malvern’s Emporium, looking at their new window display, when Mrs. Doolittle and her curricle came out of nowhere. Vesper bolted, and I lost my seat. He stopped directly, the silly creature—you never saw a horse look so shamefaced. And I wasn’t hurt at all, only a little rumpled. But the groom must have told Sir Henry. If he didn’t, then Mrs. Doolittle surely would have. And now I’m barred from riding Vesper ever again.”

“Is that what Henry told you?”

“That’s not the worst of it. He says… He says he’s sending Vesper to the sales in London. That he’ll be gone by next week. Sold to the highest bidder.”

“Oh, Winnie. I am sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to persuade him not to do it. I know he’ll listen to you. He must. For if you can’t make him change his mind, I don’t know what I shall do.”

Beryl held her sister close. “Very well. I shall speak with him. But you must pull yourself together. And, I’m afraid, you’ll have to look after Ernest while I’m gone. He’s not reliable enough yet to visit the Park.”

“Gladly.”

“It’s settled then.” She gave Winnifred one last squeeze before rising from the bed to finish dressing. “You’d best change into something more suitable. And do perk up, Winnie. It’s not like you to admit defeat so easily.”

“I’m not defeated,” Winnifred grumbled. “Not yet anyway.”

Henry stood from his desk as Mrs. Guthrie showed Beryl into the library at Rivenhall Park. A faint flicker of irritation crossed his face. It was gone as quickly as it came. “Miss Burnham. This is an unexpected pleasure.”

Her spirits sank a little. She’d interrupted his work again. It wasn’t a very auspicious beginning. “I trust I’m not disturbing you?”

“No, indeed.” He addressed the housekeeper. “Tea, Mrs. Guthrie.”

“Yes, sir.” Mrs. Guthrie dropped a curtsy before exiting the library. She left the door open behind her.

Henry crossed the thick red and gold carpet to take Beryl’s hand. “You came alone?”

“I did.” She slid her hand from his grasp before he could raise it to his lips. It didn’t feel right to let him press his customary kiss to her knuckles. Not after what had happened today between her and Mark. “You think it unwise?”

“We’re not married yet.”

Yet.

“No,” she said, “but we soon will be.” And then this would be her home. Henry would be her husband.

The prospect left her strangely chilled.

She turned and walked to the window. The heavy curtains were opened, revealing a pleasant view of the rolling lawn leading down to the stables. It recollected her to her task. “Winnifred was rather upset after church this morning.”

“Ah. I see. You’ve come on her behalf.” Henry came to stand beside Beryl at the window. “I owe you and your mother an apology. I should never have permitted your sister to ride that horse in the first place. I might have known she’d become attached to him.”

“She is attached. Desperately so. She feels he was made for her.”

“He’s a horse, Beryl. An unreliable one at that.”

“Not to her.”

“As that may be, I’ll not have her injured on his account.”

“She wasn’t injured.”

“Not this time she wasn’t.”

Beryl’s lips compressed. It was plain that Henry had already made up his mind. She knew he was unlikely to be moved by any of her arguments. “Must you sell him?”

“It seems the kindest course. I’d have thought you of all people would agree with me.”