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“I can see the merits of both of those things,” Felicity said gently, looking at me with a little awe. “What do you intend to do, then?”
“I intend to keep myself open to the opportunities available to me and to thank my parents, God rest their souls, for leaving me an inheritance that will provide for me and my husband—whoever he will be—with enough of an income to enjoy a life of relative ease.” I grinned at Felicity, and she laughed, shaking her head.
“You are too much sometimes.”
“Yes, I have been told that before.” I stood and shook my skirts out. “I cannot sit in this cold a moment longer. I need a hard ride to warm my blood.”
“Enjoy it. I will remain here until I am too cold to turn the pages of my book any longer.”
Luna, when given her head, soared across the golden hills, spread with green and yellow grass plucked at by the herds of sheep. I allowed the wind to blow through my hair, yanking strands from their pins and flapping them in front of my face. My gloved hands gripped the reins, and I bounced in tandem with the beat of Luna’s hooves, breathing in the scent of earth and damp grass.
By the time I returned to the house, my cheeks were flushed and my body rejuvenated. I could face the prospect of Benedict and his would-be wife, the silver goddess. I could face Lady Edith and her expectations. I could face—Henry?
He opened the door and helped me inside, his muted smile warm. “You’ve just had a letter arrive. I believe Forester has it in the antechamber.”
“Thank you.” I moved to walk away but paused and looked at him with an appraising eye. He was much like Benedict in appearance, though not as tall, his curly brown hair in a state of disarray that added a little flair to his otherwise understated appearance. He had intelligence in his eyes but a quietness about him that was completely at odds with his flirtatious brother. He was handsome. He would be able to find a wife in London easily if he would only look for one.
“I cannot help but wonder if I have something in my teeth,” Henry said, breaking through the barrier of my perusal and driving me back to the present.
“Your teeth are perfectly fine. I was only wondering why you will not come to London with us next month.”
“I do not find Society all that appealing, to be frank.”
“Understandable, of course. But you would not be traveling with Society, or staying with them, or dining with them, unless you wish. Youcould, however, spend that time with us, or in the clubs and shops of London. There is a great deal to do in Town aside from attending balls and parties, you know.”
He tilted his head a little to the side, his eyes narrowing in thought. “I suppose I hadn’t given it much thought.”
“I hope now you will.” I gave him an impish grin and left.
Letters did not come my way often, so I couldn’t help the curiosity that nipped at me. I was making my way to the antechamber when Benedict stepped into my path. He forced me to pull up short in order to avoid running into him, and one glance at the determination in his gaze proved I should not stop to speak to him now. He would challenge me about why I missed our morning ride, I was certain of it.
“We never made an appointment,” I said, stepping around him and continuing down the corridor toward the antechamber. Riding together at the same time every morning for nearly a week did not constitute an agreement. “I’ve missed no engagements.”
He fell into step behind me. “I did not take you for the type of woman who needed to sleep late the morning after a ball.”
“I didn’t sleep late. Not that there is anything wrong with needing a little more rest after a late evening spent participating in such lively activity.”
“So you chose to skip your ride?”
“I chose to postpone my ride until the sun was out and could warm me a little, instead of the early morning, which has begun to feel a little too icy for my taste.”
Lies. I had skipped riding to avoid Benedict. I opened the door to the antechamber and found Forester, the butler, standing at an open cabinet full of serving dishes.
Benedict, of course, followed me inside. His spicy, tangy scent hung about me, clouding my determination. I had chosen to avoid him, to avoid a conversation, because . . . why exactly? It had been something to do with the way I felt last night and my deep desire to refrain from facing those feelings. But I could no longer remember the particulars now that he was nearby, meddling with my determination.
“I’ve been told you have a letter for me,” I said to the butler.
He moved to retrieve it and presented it on a silver salver.
“Thank you, Forester,” I said, turning away and pretending Benedict was not directly behind me.
“Of course, miss.”
I stepped back into the corridor and made my way toward the parlor. It should be empty at this time of day and surely Benedict would leave me in peace now that he knew I intended to read correspondence.
The writing on the direction was mildly familiar, but I could not place it. The edges of the folded letter were particularly worn, as though it had traveled a great distance, and I broke the seal and unfolded it in my curiosity. A small, folded note fell from the creases onto the polished floor. A second letter within the first? I bent to retrieve it, my gaze darting between the crisp, freshly penned words on the letter and the aged missive I’d yet to open.
My eyes glued to the writing on the smaller note, and I found that I could not move. I stood frozen in the center of the corridor, an unfolded letter draped in one hand and the small missive taunting me from the other. It had been six years since my father died, a man who loved me despite how little I respected his habits. Six years that I had grown and developed into a woman bent on not allowing for myself the life he and my mother led. I had conflicting emotions regarding my parents, it was true, but holding now a letter in my grip that was most certainly written in my father’s hand made my stomach swoop in equal parts dread and eager fascination.
