Page 21 of The Duke and His Jilted Bride

“Because it isn’t proper,” she said.

He laughed again softly. “Because if I fed them, there would be no food left for us.” He rested the coffee pot on a small embroidered mat. “But no, they’ve pushed the boat out for you this morning. We don’t usually eat so lavishly.”

She made a sound of agreement and picked up a piece of toast.

“There are hot foods on the sidetable,” Evander noted, nodding toward it. “You should have some so you are well enough to come riding with me today.”

“Riding?” Aurelia choked on a laugh. “You really aren’t wasting any time, are you?”

“Not a second of it,” he replied, picking up his broadsheet again.

And despite everything he had warned about the dogs, she swore she saw him sneak Titan a crust of toast when he thought she wasn’t looking.

An hour later, Evander reappeared in the entrance hall wearing country riding clothes that had been worn before many times – in the way that country clothes are worn, she guessed. His boots were already muddy at the toe, which suggested he had been outside even before breakfast. She assumed this was what he usually did. Lots of assumptions and guesses overall. She wondered how long it would last before she had definitive answers to things. In the meantime, she smiled up at him in what she hoped was an encouraging way.

He was more handsome in the mornings, she thought. His eyes sparkled with energy and his skin looked bright and smooth. She noticed a freckle under his eye she hadn’t seen before – and looked away when he came closer to her.

“That suits you,” he said, motioning to her own riding habit. “Now come out,” he waved her forward, striding confidently toward the front doors manned by two footmen. “I'll show you the stables.”

It was not precisely an invitation, more of a statement of what was going to happen. In that sense he seemed even more decisive than in London. And Aurelia found to her mild irritation, as she finished buttoning her outer coat, that she did not mind this at all.

He was explaining the stables to Aurelia – the layout, the horses, the history of the yard – when he noticed that she was not, strictly speaking, actually looking at the stables.

Instead she was looking at Titan, who had attached himself to her left side while she was throwing a stick for Nike. Her technique needed some improvement, but it was a start, and the large dog sprinted across the stable gardens, kicking up muck as she went.

“They’ve gone mad,” the old groom, Matthew Howes, said beneath his breath beside Evander as they walked toward the stables. He had joined them outside the house earlier. “The dogs, I mean, Your Grace. Mad for the duchess.”

“Fresh blood,” Evander said, kicking some mud from his boots against the stable fence and ignoring the anxiety and jealousy knotting in his stomach as Nike brought the stick back.

Aurelia threw it again. Titan watched the stick go with detachment and then looked up at Aurelia as though to confirm she was still there.

“-- north pasture fence needs looking at before the end of the week,” Evander caught Howes saying, blinking as he returned his attention to him.

But it was only a matter of time before he looked at Aurelia, who had by now retrieved the stick from Nike personally rather than waiting for it to be delivered. She laughed loudly as Nike bounded up in excitement, trying to steal the stick from her. She threw it again and wiped her hands on her riding skirts.

He thought the country suited her.

As though sensing his eyes on her, Aurelia smiled at him. She half-walked half-ran over to him and Howes, dusting off her hands again. “I’ll never be rid of her,” she joked, looking over her shoulder at Nike as she raced back like a bullet. “I am so sorry, sir. You were saying something about the stables,” she said to Howes.

She walked forward with the groom as Evander wrangled the dogs. By the time he made it inside the stable barn – hit immediately by that warm, comforting smell of hay and horses – Aurelia was stroking a mare in one of the stalls by the back doors.

The mare she chose was called Pearl. She was a beautiful cremello horse, sensible and sure-footed, who required little to no managing on the sometimes uneven country trails.

“You beat me to it,” he said as he approached them, causing Aurelia to pause. “I was going to suggest her for you, but I didn’t want to force your hand.”

“She is lovely,” Aurelia said lovingly, continuing to stroke the mare’s mane. “Mr. Howes was telling me all about her mother, Diamond.”

“His Grace’s preferred horse, aye. Maybe a little long in the tooth to keep up with Pearl this morning,” Howes said, readjusting his cap. “Shall I prepare Matchem for you, Your Grace?”

Evander nodded, and Howes left them to begin saddling the thoroughbred at the opposite end of the stables. He breathed a sigh of relief now that they were alone, casting a cautious look up at the hayloft and finding it empty. The stable-hands must have been working elsewhere that morning. He noticed then the sound of buckles and straps. Aurelia was picking up Pearl’s equipment from the nearby rack. Howes must have showed her what to take while Evander had been with the dogs outside.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked, not meaning to sound as parental as he had. “I wouldn’t think women like you saddled their own horses, let alone had the opportunity to ride much in London town.”

Aurelia smiled, arms full of tack, looking as charming as she did ridiculous. “Mr. Howes said you would show me what to do.”

“Mr. Howes…” He stifled a laugh but moved forward anyway. “Presumes too much from me.”

Moments later, he was adjusting the fit of the bridle when he noticed the gloves on Aurelia’s wrists as she returned to grooming Pearl. They were leather riding gloves, yes, correctly chosen. But the left one was folded wrong at the wrist, the seam turned in slightly, which would chafe before they reached the village. He reached across without being fully conscious of it, one hand still on the bridle, and took her by the wrist.