"I believe I have inspected sufficiently for one afternoon."
"Then you shall walk with us. How lovely."
The duke looked as though he wanted to protest, but whatever objection he might have raised died before it reached his lips. Instead, he fell into step beside them, beside Lillian, specifically, as Rosanne had somehow maneuvered herself to the far side of the path, and they walked in what might generously be called companionable silence.
Lillian was acutely aware of his presence at her side. He was tall enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to meet his eyes, and broad enough that he seemed to occupy more space than strictly necessary. There was something almost magnetic about him; a gravitational pull that she felt despite herself.
This is foolish, she told herself firmly.He is a duke. You are a country neighbor of modest means. Whatever this is, this awareness between you, it cannot lead anywhere sensible.
But sensibility, she was beginning to realize, was less straightforward than she had always assumed.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, and if Daniel's pace matched hers exactly, if he shortened his stride to accommodate her steps, if his arm occasionally brushed against hers as they navigated the uneven ground, neither of them mentioned it.
***
Three days later, Lillian arrived at Wynthorpe Hall to find Rosanne delayed by a crisis involving the housekeeper and a shipment of linens that had gone inexplicably astray. A flustered maid directed Lillian to wait in the morning room, but Lillian, restless after the walk from Hartfield and disinclined to sit in a chair doing nothing, decided to wander instead.
She found herself in the stable yard.
It was a beautiful space; clean and well-maintained, with stalls lining both sides of a cobbled courtyard. The smell of hay and horse was warm and familiar, reminding Lillian of the stables at Hartfield before her father had been forced to sell off their better mounts.
She was examining a handsome bay mare when a voice behind her said, "she is called Minerva. After the goddess."
Lillian turned. The duke was standing at the entrance to the yard, dressed in riding clothes, his dark hair slightly disordered as though he had just dismounted. There was a smudge of something on his glove, dirt, perhaps, or leather oil, that made him look unexpectedly human.
"She is beautiful," Lillian said, reaching out to stroke the mare's velvet nose. Minerva accepted the attention with queenly condescension. "Does she ride well?"
"Excellently. Though she can be temperamental with unfamiliar handlers."
"She seems perfectly docile to me."
"She does, doesn't she?" The duke moved closer, his footsteps quiet on the cobblestones. "She does not usually take to strangers so readily. You must have a way with horses."
"I grew up around them. My father used to say I was born in the saddle." Lillian smiled at the memory. "That was an exaggeration, of course, but I was riding before I could walk. Or so the family legend claims."
"You ride, then?"
"I did. We sold our horses several years ago, when..." She hesitated, uncertain how much to reveal. "When circumstances required it."
The duke was quiet for a moment, and Lillian thought she saw something flicker across his face; sympathy, perhaps, or understanding. He knew, of course, that her family's circumstances were modest. It was impossible to live in the same county without knowing such things.
"If you wish to ride," he said, "you need only ask. My stables are at your disposal."
The words came out stiff, formal, as though he were offering the use of his stables to a casual acquaintance rather than extending a genuine kindness. But there was something in his eyes, something almost tentative, that suggested the offer meant more than his tone implied.
"That is very generous, Your Grace."
"It is merely practical. Horses require exercise, and my grooms can only ride so many at once."
"Of course. Practical."
"Entirely practical."
They looked at each other across the space of the stable yard, and Lillian felt that peculiar electricity again; that awareness that seemed to crackle between them whenever they were in proximity.
"I would like that very much," she said quietly. "Thank you."
He nodded, a short, sharp movement, and looked away. "Rosanne will be wondering where you are."
