“Forgive me,” she said, turning to him with a smile. “I have just forgotten how free I can feel when riding.” She turned her head up to the clouds, as though basking in that freedom. With her eyes turned away, it gave Francis a minute or two to observe her without fear of being discovered.
She was windswept now, with her brown hair falling out of its chignon as it was bristled around her cheeks by the wind. Her cheeks were pinker than usual from the exercise, and those green eyes of hers were alight with much more life than he had seen in them the night before.
This is where she belongs. Riding!
He added the last word in his mind, realizing he could have meant here…on his estate. He tried to persuade himself that’s not what he meant at all, he just meant she belonged in a world where she could ride.
“Well, I warrant you are the superior rider,” Francis said, earning her gaze again.
“Oh no, surely not,” she said. “It is simply that my horse is carrying the lighter load.”
“Are you saying I carry too much weight, my Lady?” He pretended to be offended.
“No, I didn’t mean –”
“Oh, the insult!” he continued the jest. His mocking tone brought laughter from her.
“Have I hurt your feelings very badly?” she said, trying to muffle her laughter. “I was merely referring to your height.”
“Of course, you were,” he said with evident doubt, bringing more smiles from her. “To remedy the affront, I must make a request of you.”
“What kind of request?” she asked, bringing her horse alongside his. They were side by side but facing opposite ways so they could look directly at each other.
“A contest,” he said. “We shall settle who is the finest rider once and for all. Otherwise, those lessons I had in Lisbon are all for nothing.”
“You had riding lessons in Lisbon?” she asked, her eyes wide with wonder.
“I did,” he confirmed with a nod, observing the sheer extent of amazement in her features. “You seem quite astonished whenever I speak of my travels.”
“I guess it is because I am,” she said softly as she pulled on her reins, ensuring Cantante stayed in place. “I have never thought that travelling was something that was really possible, yet when you speak of it…it sounds very enticing.”
“You realize you could travel now,” he said slowly, watching as her expression changed.
“Oh no, I could not. My husband would –”
“Would have no more control over you once the separation is complete,” he said with finality, watching as his words sank in. “You would have an annuity and an income. What you do with your money and your life then would be your business, not your husband’s or anyone else’s.”
“Wow,” she murmured, sitting taller in her saddle. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He could see the thought sinking in and how she grew more and more excited with each passing second, her eyes darting back and forth and her hands restless on the reins.
“That expression,” he said, pointing at her, “it’s rather how I used to look when I was a boy, and my father took me to the confectioners’ shop in Covent Garden.” She giggled at the image he presented her with. “So, you have your freedom, Lady Ridlington. What would you like to do with it first?”
“I think I owe you that contest first,” she said, turning the horse around so that they were lined up, side by side, as though on a starting line. “Name the challenge.”
“The first one to the river,” he said, pointing through the trees. The edge of the estate was bordered by the River Thames, where a small stream meandered into his estate. He gestured at this stream where it resided in the long grass near the house.
“Very well,” she said, readying her horse. “When you’re ready.”
“Prepare yourself…” he said, smirking as he inched his horse a little in front of hers.
“Oh, do not cheat, Your Grace,” she said, pulling Cantante forward a little.
“Ah, I thought I had gotten away with that. And go!” he suddenly declared the start of their race. She was clearly taken by surprise as she set off after him.
Soon, they were both racing down the hill and through the trees at a breakneck speed, but where Francis had had the initial advantage, that soon slipped away. Lady Ridlington managed to overtake him easily through the trees and by the time they reached the flat land of the lawn, she was way out in front. As they got near the stream, Lady Ridlington didn’t let up. She urged the horse to jump.
Together, she and the Andalusian flew over the stream, landing neatly on the other side, as though it had taken no effort for them at all. Francis was so busy admiring Lady Ridlington for it, he had not paid attention to his own horse suddenly snorting in objection.
By the time Francis came to try and make his own horse jump, the horse was having none of it. The steed came to a skidding halt and drew his hooves into the ground, tipping his nose forward so that Francis was thrown over the horse’s head and straight into the stream. His face and body crashed against it with the water covering him in an instant.
