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Mr. Stewart smiled down on her. “I do not,” he replied. “I shall stay until the doctor arrives.”
“Wonderful,” Phineas muttered. “I will go speak to Grandmother about what just transpired.”
“May I get you anything?” Mr. Stewart asked after Phineas left.
“No, thank you.”
He sat next to her on an upholstered armchair. “Are you sure you are not injured?”
“I am sure.”
“I have known many men who have been hurt from being upended,” Mr. Stewart shared. “It is not something you should take lightly.”
Daphne tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I have no idea why Biscuit reacted that way.”
“You named your horse ‘Biscuit’?” Mr. Stewart asked amusedly.
“I did.”
“Were ‘Chocolate’ and ‘Mutton’ already taken?” Mr. Stewart joked.
She laughed. “No, but I was only eight when I named the horse. It seemed like a good fit.”
“I disagree,” he replied. “A horse should not be named after food.”
“What did you name your horse?”
The humor left Mr. Stewart’s face. “I do not own a horse,” he replied. “They are much too expensive to maintain in Town.”
“I apologize,” she said. “I shouldn’t have assumed as much.”
“There is nothing to apologize for,” he responded. “I was fortunate enough to learn how to ride when I was at Eton.”
“My parents gave me Biscuit for my eighth birthday,” Daphne shared.
“What a thoughtful gift.”
“It was, especially since I have always been fond of horses,” she revealed. “When I was younger, I used to get on my hands and knees and pretend that I was one.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, much to the chagrin of my parents,” she said. “They insisted that I had to wait until I was eight to start riding a horse.”
“That is a fine age.”
She nodded. “Until then, I was able to ride a pony, assuming my father was standing right next to me.”
“It sounds like you had a good father.”
“I was blessed to have the parents I did,” she said. “I didn’t grow up in a fancy manor such as this. We lived on a small estate and employed only a handful of servants.”
“That sounds rather perfect.”
“It was,” she responded with a wistful smile. “But it was all taken away from me. One day I was a carefree child, and the next day, I had lost everything.”
“I understand that feeling more than you realize,” Mr. Stewart said. “My father was robbed and murdered on the street in broad daylight.”
She gasped, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “How awful.”
