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Chapter Seven
Charles and Lord Drysdale met out in front of the stables the next day. The Viscount smiled at him. He was dressed impeccably, in a bright red riding jacket with gold buttons, which appeared to have been made of a wool and silk blend.
Charles himself wore another of his dark blue wool frock coats—he had several. None of which were specifically for riding, but would do, nonetheless. He’d purchased them for their simplicity.
“The Duke doesn’t have need of your services today?” Lord Drysdale asked, tugging on his kid riding gloves.
“Not today,” Charles said, pulling his own riding gloves out. “It sounds like I’ll be hard at work again tomorrow, though.”
“So you’ll be staying a bit longer?” the Viscount asked.
“It appears so,” Charles confirmed, surprised at how solicitous the Viscount was being.
“I wonder—would you be able to help me with something later on?”
“Of course,” Charles replied, having his suspicions confirmed. Usually, the gentlemen of the ton were only interested in him when they needed something.
Lady Arabella arrived then, wearing a pair of breeches, along with a pale grey frock coat, which had a yellow bow adorning it. On her head, she wore a top hat, and her dark boots came up to her knees. She cut a smart figure, Charles noted. Annette, her lady’s maid, was dressed in a simple riding habit. She trailed after Arabella silently.
“My Lady!” Lord Drysdale exclaimed, utterly scandalized. “You do not mean to ride astride!”
“I assure you, I mean to,” she replied, pulling her kid riding gloves on. “I always have. I don’t know why all and sundry expect me to start riding sidesaddle, merely because I have debuted!”
“When you marry, your husband will likely direct you to wear a riding habit and use a side saddle,” Lord Drysdale commented. Rage flickered over the lady’s features.
“If that is what my husband will order me to do, then I don’t think I’ll be marrying him to begin with,” she stated flatly.
“There’s simply no purpose for it.” Lord Drysdale, it seemed, was still trying to win her over, but was doing so in the worst way possible. She was clearly offended.
“There’s no purpose for a side-saddle,” she replied. “It makes jumping difficult.”
“Ladies are most certainly not meant to jump.” Lord Drysdale had forgotten Charles entirely. Arabella, meanwhile, looked right at him.
“I mean to,” she said, clearly expecting Charles to say something.
“Oh, look—our horses,” Charles commented, mostly to get them both to stop quarrelling. The grooms were leading them over. He was mildly surprised when Arabella was handed the reins to a spirited black Thoroughbred.
Charles, meanwhile, was given a large, yet even-tempered gelding. Charles eyed Arabella, who stared back at him, as though daring him to tell her otherwise.
“He’s a beautiful horse,” he said, watching her face light up with evident pride. She, like her horse, was clearly hot-tempered.
“Black Jack is my pride and joy,” she replied, appeased.
“He’s dangerous, for a lady,” Lord Drysdale muttered.
“Are you going to argue, or can we get to it?” Charles asked, pretending to be bored with the exchange.
“Mr. Conolly—you cannot support this?” Lord Drysdale asked.
“It’s not up to you, and it’s certainly not up to me,” he stated. “It’s between Lady Arabella and His Grace.”
Lady Arabella glanced over at him, a small smile spreading across her face. She nodded toward him. He smiled at her. As a barrister, Charles was used to solving arguments. He climbed up onto his horse’s back.
When Charles glanced over at Annette, she blinked at him. He was well aware that she saw and heard everything, then reserved her judgments for later, when she was alone with Lady Arabella. Of anyone, Charles felt like he related to her the most—after all, they were both there because the Duke of Tiverwell had hired them.
They all rode off, as a group, the lady’s maid and the grooms following after them, as chaperones. It was a brilliantly sunny day. The perfect day for a ride. In the city, sunny days just meant that the streets baked in the sun, causing a rather unpleasant smell.
In the country, it meant something else entirely. The air smelled fresh. Charles was immediately planning to purchase himself a home in the country. Nothing too elaborate. Just somewhere to go, when he needed a break from the city.
