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“Have you been riding long?” Dorothy matches my stride, though I am careful not to lengthen my gait. She is, after all, a lady in her late sixties.
“All my life, Madam. It is my passion.”
“Lord alive, I bet it is. No wonder she’s moping and moaning about the place.” I’m not sure what she means, but I don’t have time to ask before she tucks her arm in mine. “I’m sure you hear this all the time, young man, but your accent is jolly pleasant on the English ear.”
“Do you ride, Mrs. Hainbright?” I believe this is a country of riders, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she did. I look about, eager to find Lolly.
“Miss. Miss Hainbright, thank you. I did. Back when I still had a seat.” She lets out a little laugh. “But these things are given and then taken away, are they not? And there are other things I enjoy riding more than horses…”
It is a topic I do not wish to explore with this particular woman, so I deflect. “I hope to ride until I drop. Like, I believe, your much-loved Queen did?” Not riding would be like…well, like not seeing Lolly again.
“Here’s what I say!” Dorothy pulls me to a halt. “I say the whole lot of you must come for tea.”
The English and their tea. It’s an institution. “I’d be delighted.” I’m not sure who’s included, or what, precisely, she means by “lot,” but if it’s all of us, Lolly will be there, and that is enough to entice me.
“Dottie!” Pippa has caught up and takes Dorothy’s other arm. “I see you’ve met the resident heartthrob!”
“I was just saying, all the young people must come for tea. Today. How does four sound?”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to do that!” Pippa’s good at these things. I don’t know how to do the dance of yes-no that the English do. You’re supposed to say “no” when you mean “yes,” but the person making the invitation already knows you’re going to say “yes,” so I am unclear on the reason for the initial “no.”
“At my age, darling, I want all the company I can get.”
“In that case, we’ll be there with bells on.”
“Do we have any of the newfangled not-meat eaters?” Dorothy unloops her arm from mine and turns to face Pippa, who is clearly of more use than me.
“Oh, bung a couple of cucumber sandwiches in there and they’ll be fine. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”
“You’re very naughty.” Miss Hainbright smacks Pippa’s hand. “We’re going to get along swimmingly.”
“If you’ll excuse me, ladies.” Lolly’s at the end of the barn and I can’t let her escape. I do my best not to run to her, but if I slow down someone else is sure to accost me. The groom is walking my horse, Whiskey, back to her stall, and we exchange a couple of words about when I’ll need her again, and then I’m there, standing in front of Lolly, ready to explain. Nothing more.
“This is a surprise.” She’s got a horse in the cross ties, a brush in her hand, flicking her wrist furiously and sending dust and horsehair in my direction. “Last time I saw you…” She trails off, blushing. Last time she saw me, she was barely dressed and sprayed with orange paint. A dazzling creation I’ll never forget. “You were about to take to the dance floor with…”
“You.”
The blush deepens and her free hand creeps to her lips. “That wasn’t what I was going to say.” She straightens and looks me dead in the eye. “You told me what you were. Who you were. I should have listened. You needed a sponsor, and she was willing…”
I pull her hand away from her mouth, relieve her of the brush, and fold both her hands in mine. They’re cold, and I can’t tell—is it only because mine are warm that she doesn’t pull away? “It was a moment of madness, no—desperación.”
“Woah. More than a moment, buster. I saw the hickey you gave her. She was sporting some serious suckage on that neck.” Lolly tosses her head, her thick braid swinging heavily, baring her own flawless porcelain-skinned neck.
“My father was my sponsor.” I can’t let her interrupt me. I have to say this. I can’t allow her to hate me this way, to think I am the person I almost became. “He had a heart attack, and his business is failing.”
“Yes. You told me and I’m sorry about your dad. That’s harsh.” There is a softness in her voice that is real, though still she holds herself apart from me. It only makes me want to break down the wall that is between us even more, tell her more than I have told anyone. “He’s a big man where we live. People look to him. Having a son who plays the national sport, this was good for him, good for—I don’t know exactly the word you might use—good for the handshaking and being friends in the business sense.”
“Gladhanding. Yes, we have that.”
It is good—a sign, I hope—that she helps me in this way. And at least she hasn’t taken her hands back. They’re trembling, but they’re still clasped in mine. “I run a charity for veterans. They come to me when they can’t put themselves back together again. They rely on me, you understand? The money from the polo goes to them.”
“Right…?” She does not understand. She draws ever so slightly away from me, her smooth skin slipping against mine, the sensation a terrible mix of tantalizing and agonizing. The last thing I want is for her to pull away, but the slightest friction—her softness against mine—is also a temptation. I want to take her in my arms, press her to my heart, let her hear the moment it explodes.
But I am a competitor, schooled at channeling my excitement until the victory is mine. Though if there is victory in what I must tell Lolly, it will be hard won.
“So, my father supports me, my name builds him up a little, I give my earnings, we all are winners.”
“I see.” Her eyes are pools of liquid light, her lips parted, her pulse beating in the dip of her collarbone. I want my mouth there, where she beats. I have felt this way—the passionate pull of her—since she swam into my orbit, the choices I made then light years different from the one I would make now.
