“She is a treasure, is she not?” his mother had said. “So seemingly insignificant when one first sets eyes upon her but filled to the brim with love and a sense of fun. Owen is going to be a fortunate man.”
Nicholas sighed. Envy did not help lift his spirits. It was also beneath him.
Now as he glanced her way, he saw that Winifred was watching him.
“Would you care for a ride?” he called impulsively, pausing in his task of saddling Soldier.
“I have not ridden much,” she said. “There has not been the opportunity. Besides, I am wary of horses. I like to look at them, but from a distance. I am not dressed suitably anyway. And I have promised to stay with Andrew.”
“Too many excuses.” He grinned at her. “I believe you are a coward, Miss Cunningham.”
“Well, that too,” she said, and laughed.
“I can ask my own groom to keep an eye on Andrew,” he said. “Though I am guessing your brother will not even notice you are gone. He has a remarkable ability to focus for long hours at a time.”
“It is not so remarkable if you think about it,” she said. “His whole life is spent inside himself, without the outlets for associating and sharing with others the rest of us have. He has been specially blessed since he has a talent that requires total concentration.”
That was one way of looking at the boy’s deafness, he thought. What most other people would consider one of the worst possible afflictions, she saw as a special blessing.
It was all a matter of perspective.
“Which is it to be?” he asked her. “Courage or cowardice?”
“You are being ruthlessly unfair,” she said. “Who would choose cowardice?”
“I will put the sidesaddle on Flora,” he said. “She is the mildest-mannered creature in the horse kingdom. You will enjoy yourself.”
“Nowthatis a claim I protest,” she said. “You cannot possibly know what will bring me enjoyment and what will bring me stark terror instead.”
He chuckled, gave Soldier the order not to move a muscle, and went to fetch Flora, who nosed him amiably and came trotting out of her stall to be made ready for a ride.
Miss Cunningham, he could see, was rubbing Andrew on the back and indicating to him with clear hand gestures that she was going to go riding for a while but would be back before long. He looked up and nodded vaguely before returning to his emerging sculpture. He did not look the least like a boy about to disintegrate into panic.
Michael would take care of him.
But who would take care ofhim?
What had he let himself in for now? The fewer personal interactions he had with Miss Cunningham, the better, he suspected. He enjoyed her company too much. And, strange as it seemed, he was beginning to find her far too attractive for his own good. It was hard to understand. She certainly did nothing deliberately to attract him. She had actively disliked him until very recently, and perhaps still did.
Besides, she was Owen’s love interest.
And besides again, Miss Cunningham was thirteen years younger than he. He had always thought a five-year age gap was the widest he would consider for himself. But that was when he had been planning matrimony with his head, without reference to his heart.
Idiot that he had been.
She was standing just behind him when he turned, eyeing poor Flora with obvious misgiving.
—
Seen close up, the horse washuge, and Winifred was terrified. It was not a good combination. But her courage had been challenged. She had allowed herself to be goaded into proving she was no coward. She glanced from this mount to his—the same horse he had ridden at Trooping the Colour. And her horse, the one he had saddled for her,the mildest-mannered creature in the horse kingdom, was almost as large. This just could not be done.
You will enjoy yourself,he had said.
Ha!
She had seen him give her brothers and sisters rides on this very horse, and they had always looked perfectly safe.Hehad looked perfectly dependable. She had never feared that they might fall off and kill themselves or, at the very least, break a limb. They had always come back from their short rides excited and begging for more. And safe.
A part of her had been envious. There was no point in denying it. How wonderful it must feel to do something so daring. To conquer her fear. To enjoy having his full attention. But she must not explore that last thought too closely.
