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"M'lady, any man searching for a lovely lady to marry has no interest in seeing her dressed up in these sorts of... things," Ms. Mulwray spat.
"I think he'll like to see me in these things just fine," Lady Havenshire spat the word back with playful venom at the stern housekeeper. "You may find yourself surprised about Lord Beckham, Ms. Mulwray."
"Lady Havenshire, I've lived a life more than twice the length of yours, and I know only that if any charming gentleman searching the world for a suitor bore interest in a woman who so shamelessly paraded in the garb of a horse-jockey, he was rather reticent about it," Ms. Mulwray said judging, arms crossed atop her chest. "Think of your father for once, m'lady."
"I've thought plenty on him. Why do you think I went on that absurd dinner-date he pushed me in to, last night?" Nadia retorted, pulling her riding gloves over her fingers.
"And something quite positive came of it, didn't it? Perhaps you ought to listen to him more often," Ms. Mulwray heeded. Nadia hated to admit it, but... Ms. Mulwray and her father, in some small way, had been right, though perhaps not in the manner each of them expected. They had been right only on a technicality, with Lord Beckham proving far more a gentleman - the real, actual sort of gentleman - than she had expected. "You ought to make haste, m'lady - you wouldn't want to make him wait for too long, would you?"
"Lord Beckham's here already?" Nadia asked, stunned.
"Of course, m'lady - he's been waiting for you for nearly a half an hour!" Ms. Mulwray exclaimed. Nadia could answer only with surprised stutters; her heart throbbed at the thought that Lord Beckham, too, had spent the entire evening as vexed as she had been, contemplating the nature of their relationship; contemplating just what tomorrow would hold.
"I'll—I, I should—" Nadia swallowed hard and, after another quick glance at her reflection, she rushed through the door, nearly tripping over her own feet in her dashing hubris, swirling around corners like a galloping steed, bounding down the stairs so quick she nearly fell onto her face when she skipped a whole step at the foot of them. She looked excitedly to the front door of the foyer - only to see Egan, standing attentive, arms crossed. Her heart throbbed briefly; had he waited too long? Had he grown bored and simply left? Had she lost her chance at meeting with him once more?
"Egan, where's Lord Beckham? Ms. Mulwray said—" she gasped, barely able to breathe. "Ms. Mulwray said that he'd come, has he gone? Has he left?" she demanded, her voice wobbly. Egan looked upon Nadia in utter bafflement, before gesturing to the couch near the stairwell - right in a blind spot, where Nadia's hurried gaze had failed to take notice of a man seated, patiently waiting. A stormy man with eyes deep as a swirling ocean.
"That sound in your voice, I quite enjoyed hearing it," Lord Beckham commented coyly as he rose, humbly approaching Lady Havenshire with a nod and a respectful look. "Was it just a hint of desperation, perhaps, that made it such a pleasant stew of a sound?"
"D-desperation? No, I'm just..." Nadia tried to collect herself. It had been a hint of desperation, though she would never admit it. "...I had hoped that I had no offended you by making you wait, is all." She looked at him, confused, seeing he had come to the manor wearing only his usual sort of breeches and jacket - dark and expensive, and he looked quite exceptionally handsome in them, as he had before, but... "...have you brought with you riding gear, m'lord? I had intended for us to ride together today, if you quite recall." An awkward silence fell as the duke glanced away, clearing his throat, and all at once an impish grin of glee spread across Lady Havenshire's face as she realized something quite salient.
"I suppose I had intended simply to ride in my usual manner of attire, m'lady," Lord Beckham conceded, clearing his throat.
"Don't you find that sort of riding rather uncomfortable? I had intended for us to ride rather seriously, after all," Lady Havenshire teased. "You'd find yourself much more comfortable, and safer, in the proper attire... don't you think?" Lord Beckham grunted, once more nervously focusing his attention on the door.
"I think I shall do just fine as I am, m'lady," Lord Beckham bristled, and Nadia stifled a laugh. He couldn't ride quite at all, could he? Oh, she couldn't wait to savor the sight.
"Shall we make for the stables, then, m'lord?" Lady Havenshire asked with a devious, toying lilt to her voice. "I hope we can have quite an exhilarating ride before noontime."
"Erm... yes," Lord Beckham stated authoritatively, trying as best he could to play the role of the proper suitor and gentleman in front of the household staff. "Yes, of course, m'lady. Let's make for the stables." Lady Havenshire hid away a smirk and excitedly grasped the lord by the cuff of his jacket, leading him to the front door and throwing it open. The sun had begun to lift across the horizon, its yellowed morning light glance through the thick trees that covered the furthest fringes of the
estate; with her tossle of wrapped hair bouncing behind her, Nadia giggled as she rushed along the side of the manor, down the stone path to the stables, where the horse's keepers had already begun their morning work, the horses grazing along the vast, grassy field, fenced and reserved just for them.
"Monsieur Therriault! We've come to take your finest steeds from you for the afternoon," Lady Havenshire announced proudly as she threw open the swinging door to the stables. Lord Beckham behind her seemed to feel utterly out of place, as he glanced at the horses still lazing about in their stalls. The horses' lead keeper, a whisper of a man in white working clothes with a dirtied beret atop his head, spoke with a Parisian accent thick as beaten cream.
"M'lady Nadia, always a pleasure to 'ave you in this part of the estate. Shadow 'as missed you so greatly in your years away from the estate," he crowed, his tone throaty. "She 'asn't let anyone ride her since you've been gone." The horse, which Nadia recognized as her beloved Shadow, whinnied as the door to its stall opened; the creature was quick to dart through the dirt and the straw to be at Nadia's side, and she soothed it with a gentle hand swaying across its bridle.
"I had expected no less a loyalty from her," Nadia smiled. "My sweet Shadow, the finest steed England's ever seen. Perhaps you'd like to take her riding for the day?" Nadia's smile turned devilish as she made the offer to Lord Beckham, who cleared his throat and stepped back.
"She seems to quite favor you, m'lady," he said, making an excuse. "Perhaps another horse for me? Shadow seems to have missed you upon her back."
"Oh, I'm certain any sort of proper gentleman could tame the wild heart of a girl like Shadow, could he not?" Lady Havenshire teased. "Come now, you'd not shrink away at such a chance to woo the heart of a wondrous woman such as I, would you?" she needled him. Monsieur Therriault looked on apprehensively as Lord Beckham sighed and accepted the churlish little challenge, moving alongside Shadow with his hands on the creature's back. Shadow whinnied in protest as Lord Beckham searched for some manner of mounting the creature, and it became quite immediately apparent that Lord Beckham in fact possessed practically no skill in the realm equestrian at all. Nadia's impish smile turned to stifled giggles as Lord Beckham awkwardly positioned himself at the animal's side, and then the other side; he finally, lopsidedly threw one leg atop the beast and nearly fell flat onto his back at that; when Shadow lifted her back in a roaring objection, Lord Beckham grasped one of the stable's support beams to stop himself from cracking his skull open upon the ground.
"And so you've found me out," Lord Beckham admitted grudgingly as Nadia abandoned any pretense of subduing her laughter, instead letting it loose in long, girly snorts and chuckles.
"Just how long has it been since supreme gentleman Lord Marshall Beckham has rode upon a horse? Or even sat upon a horse?" Lady Havenshire asked with a smirk.
"If I quite recalled, perhaps I'd tell you," Lord Beckham sighed, giving her his own charming grin. She adored him in that moment; the gentleman who couldn't ride, certainly not nearly with the skill of Lady Havenshire, who quickly and skillfully mounted Shadow, the horse sniffing and snorting, clopping its hooves against the dirt in satisfaction at being reunited with her beloved owner.
"It's been that long, has it?" Lady Havenshire taunted, leading her horse towards the stable doors. "Monsieur Therriault, perhaps one of the older, slower steeds would be appropriate for Lord Beckham, yes?"
"I suppose I'm meant to take that as a clever manner of insult, m'lady," Lord Beckham quipped.
"Yes, you are, though you'd do well to remember I only tend to offer clever insults to men I rather like," Lady Havenshire admitted with a blush.
"I'll let him ride Pierre, then," Monsieur Therriault responded, corralling an older, dark-skinned horse from the rear of the stables.
"I've a warning for you, though, Lord Beckham," Lady Havenshire muttered through a grin.
