Hera glanced between them, bemused and a little touched. “Now why would you want me to come with you when you could have Uncle Heven all to yourselves?”
“Because if you come, too, we will have more fun,” Fee explained.
“Does Mrs. Montrose ride?” Hurtheven asked.
“Yes,” Fee answered in unison with Delmare.
Did she ride?She bit back a retort.
After the intimacies of the prior night, his ignorance of this very basic part of her life seemed unthinkable, and yet, how was he to know what her life had been before?
“There was a long period of time I did not ride, but when the duchess discovered my skill, she encouraged me to go out with the children. However,” she addressed the children, “I did not pack a habit and one cannot assume Hevenhyll’s stables have a mount and a saddle appropriate for me.”
“There is!” Delmare insisted. “Mum keeps a saddle here.”
“It appears the children have settled your fate amongst themselves.” Hurtheven sighed, longsuffering. “However, if you do notwishto join us...”
His tone held an unspoken challenge.
She turned her gaze toward the duke. A gleam had entered his eyes, which she suspected, meant mischief. “I believe my duty is to do asHis Gracewishes.”
“Soaccommodating...” the duke murmured.
Fee giggled.
“...and with so many surprising talents, too.”
She’d been right.Mischief.She mimicked his brow raise. “Again, I have no habit.”
“Please come,” begged Fee. “Iparticularlywant to show you Uncle Heven’s stream.”
“Particularly!” Hurtheven widened his eyes, as if this were a very persuasive point.
“Yes,” Fee replied. “And the acres and acres of daises. You love daises.”
“I do,” she agreed. “Acres, is it?”
“Oh, yes! Thewhole mountainbelongs to Uncle Heven.”
“Why, that certainlymustrecommend him,” she answered dryly. “Imagine. A whole mountain. All to yourself.”
The duke laughed. “I see I must content myself with your approbation of my library, as you’re clearly not impressed with my mountain, my castle, or my title. Not to mention my consequence.”
“Gracious! Is that all you have to recommend you?” Hera interrupted.
Neither she, nor the duke missed the groom’s sharp intake of breath. She sent him a speaking, pleading glance.
Please do not provoke me any further.
He inclined his head. “Mrs. Montrose, I would be honored if you would accept my formal invitation to picnic with myself,” he placed a hand on each child’s head, “this little hoyden, and this young rascal.”
She shouldn’t. What if he were to provoke her again?
But neither could she decline, not while three sets of brows were raised in such a hopeful manner.
Against her better judgement, she acquiesced.
The groom prepared an additional mount, and they set out together on one of the well-tended bridle paths. Soon, however, the groom had gone on ahead with Delmare, while she, followed by Hurtheven with Felicia, had fallen behind.
