“Gracie!” Serendipity shouted, but Grace ignored her.
Instead, she hurried to the carriage that she and Papa had refashioned to transport her beloved hounds without cooping them up in boxes or unsafe open wagons. Papa had loved their dogs as much as she did and hadn’t hesitated when she asked to gut an old carriage and make it perfect for the transport of their puppies whenever they traveled to the countryside. She threw open the door and was greeted by happy barks and howls. “My babies! How did they do, Carson?”
Carson, the Broadmere huntsman for as far back as Grace could remember, nodded from his well-cushioned seat of honor among the dogs, who were wriggling on their pillows that were secured in shallow boxes. Custom-made leashes and harnesses, also designed by Grace and her father, kept the pups safely in place. “All are fine as can be, Lady Grace, fine as can be, but they be needing a good run now. Especially Lucy’s pups.”
“Let me help.” Working together, Grace and Carson freed the dogs from their tethers and set Lucy’s seven plump little puppies on the main house’s front lawn, well clear of the servants unloading the wagons and carriages.
The canines’ excitement about fresh grass to run and roll in filled Grace with joy and made her itch to race across the meadow and maybe even roll around in the grass a little herself. She waved down her maid, who stood with the other maids supervising the unloading of the sisters’ trunks. “Nellie!”
The middle-aged woman in the white ruffled cap hurried over and curtsied. “Yes, my lady?”
“How terribly difficult would it be to find and air out mycountryclothes so I might wear them today?” Nellie didn’t approve of Grace’s scandalous attire of buckskin breeches, an old linen shirt and jacket, and scuffed boots that dearest Papa had always allowed her to wear whenever riding on their property. But what the maid didn’t understand was that Grace always kept the promise she’d made to her father. When dressed in her favoriteadventuringclothes, she stayed on Broadmere land, never went anywhere near the road to the village, and also avoided the neighbors. Buckskins were just so much more sensible than a riding habit, and with her long blonde braid stuffed up in a ratty old cap, if she was spotted from afar, most would simply think her a lad taking care of the master’s horse.
Nellie deflated with a heavy sigh. “No trouble at all, my lady, since I felt sure you would wish to wear those dreadful things as soon as we arrived. Before we left last summer, I wrapped them in paper and stored them in your main wardrobe. They should only need a good shake before you put them on.”
“Wonderful!” Grace felt like dancing a jig. She so loved the countryside. “Let’s hurry so I can get changed and out into the meadow with Gastric and the boys. I am sure they are all ready for some exploring after our long ride. Poor Lucy will have to stay behind with her pups, but Carson knows to give her and her babies the run of the side garden.”
“Yes, my lady. Shall I tell Jasper to ready your horse?”
“Perfect!” Grace caught up her skirts and started up the stately flagstone path to the front door.
“Gracie!”
“Drat,” she said under her breath before turning to face her brother, striding her way. “What?”
“Do not be surly with me,” he said. “I wanted to speak with you about your riding attire while we’re here this summer.”
“Papa always let me, and you know that.”
Chance raked a hand through his stylishly cropped whitish-blond hair and looked everywhere except directly into her eyes. “I know Papa always let you, but you were younger then—not of an age looking to marry.”
“What would Papa say at this very moment? You know he and Mama are watching over us.” Grace jutted her chin higher. Chance wasn’t a bad sort. He merely needed reminding that even though his sisters stood between him and the entirety of the Broadmere estate’s coffers, he loved them and would never wish them unhappy. She poked him in the chest. “Well? What would Papa say?”
“Papa would remind you that there is a time and a season for everything, and that perhaps your season of scandalous dressing should be set aside—much like you set aside that wooden sword of yours that bruised the dickens out of my shins when we were children.”
“The only reason I set aside my wooden sword is because Mama took it away when she realized I had grown stout enough to cause you real bodily harm. You know they always let us sort our differences on our own as long as no one was endangered.”
“Gracie.”
“Whining my name will not convince me to wear that ridiculous riding habit that does nothing but get in the way when the pups and I go exploring. I wear the silly thing in London or if I ride into the village, where anyone will see me. That wasenough for Papa. It should be enough for you—or are you saying you are a better man than Papa?”
From the deep amethyst hue of her brother’s eyes, she had succeeded in stirring his emotions as planned. Chance might be the head of the household and hold some sway over what she and her sisters could or couldn’t do, but Mama and Papa’s memory and the requirements of their will were powerful weapons in and of themselves, and she had no qualms about using them. “Well? What say you, brother?”
He bared his teeth and growled, thrilling her immensely. “If anyone of importance sees you, your inappropriate attire goes into the dustbin, and you will restrain your manner of dress to your acceptable riding habit, or you will not ride. Is that understood?”
If he tried to put her favorite outdoor wear into the dustbin, she would purchase another wooden sword and beat him with it. However, since she was quickly losing daylight and eager to be riding free with the wind in her face, she jerked a curt nod. “I shall follow the same rules Papa gave me: stay on our land, stay away from the road to the village, and hide from any neighbors or passersby.”
Chance threw his hands in the air and turned away, heading toward Serendipity and the other girls while grumbling under his breath.
Not about to waste the opportunity to escape, Grace rushed inside and hurried up the right side of the dual staircase with its elaborate gilded banisters and mahogany steps that made the marble entry hall even grander. She found Nellie in the sisters’ shared dressing room, shaking out and brushing the scandalous clothing that was the most comfortable attire Grace had ever been blessed to wear. Men had no idea how fortunate they were to escape the curse of stays, elaborate layers of petticoats, and endless amounts of ribbons, pins, and buttons.
“Your boots are free of spiders or vermin.” Nellie nodded at the worn pair of knee-high boots that Mama had ordered from the local cobbler with the instructions that they be perfect for riding and mucking about in the fields. With low, sturdy heels and thick soles, the boots from Mama were one of Grace’s most cherished possessions.
“I missed you, old friends,” she told the boots as she picked them up and hugged them.
Nellie shook her head and quietly clucked like a disapproving hen, but didn’t say a word as she helped Grace change into her unorthodox adventuring apparel.
“No one ever sees me, Nellie,” Grace assured her as she shrugged on the jacket plagued with snagged threads and sleeves with frayed edges. “And my horse and dogs do not judge me by my apparel.”
