Did she?
The Duke remained in her thoughts even as they returned home though she made a point not to mention him again. Notafter what her friends had suggested. No, she could not entertain such a notion.
The moment the carriage rolled to a stop in the driveway, Isadora wasted no time. She turned to Penelope, who looked weary from their outing but held herself together well.
“Go inside,” Isadora said gently, helping her sister down. “I need a moment.”
Penelope frowned slightly. “Are you all right?”
“I will be,” she assured her.
Penelope hesitated but eventually nodded, giving Isadora’s hand a quick squeeze before disappearing into the house.
Isadora turned on her heel and made her way toward the stables.
The smell of hay and leather, the distant sound of hooves against the dirt floor—it was a comfort more familiar than any drawing room and more welcoming than any ballroom.
A stable boy looked up as she entered. “Shall I ready a horse, My Lady?”
“No need,” she said, already making her way down the rows of stalls.
Her mare perked up at her approach, her ears flicking forward. A small smile tugged at Isadora’s lips as she reached out, running a gloved hand down her neck.
“Hello, my love,” she murmured. “Did you miss me?”
The mare gave a soft huff in response, nudging at her pockets. Isadora laughed, pulling out the small apple she had brought, letting the mare take it from her hand.
She had always felt most at peace here, among the horses. She had been riding since she was a child, long before she had ever been forced to consider society and its rules and long before she had been made to think about things like reputation and obligation.
Here, she was free.
She saddled the animal herself, adjusting the girth. The moment she pulled herself up and settled into the seat, the world shifted. The weight that had been pressing down on her chest loosened, and the tension in her shoulders faded.
Heaven knows how much I needed this.
With a soft click of her tongue, she urged the animal forward, guiding her toward the open fields.
Wind rushed past her face, tugging at the pins in her hair, loosening strands that fell into her eyes. Isadora didn’t care. She leaned into the motion, the steady rhythm of hoofbeats against the earth.
It was exhilarating.
For a short, blissful moment, there was nothing but the ride. No thoughts of Evan Marwood. No concerns about what favor he might ask of her. No whispers of scandal that lingered in the streets. Just the steady beat of her heart matching the pounding of hooves and the scent of the open air.
She rode until the stitch in her side demanded she slow. The mare obeyed instantly, slowing down to a walk.
What was she going to do?
Evan Marwood was a man unlike any she had encountered before. He had power. He had charm.
And she owed him.
What was he going to ask of her?
She did not know.
And she hated that most of all.
CHAPTER 5
