He raised a brow.
“And that resulted in every horse on the estate being released?”
“When you say it like that, it sounds dreadful.”
“I imagine that is because it was.”
She braced herself for reprimand. Instead, the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Tell me,” he said dryly, “was this part of a larger plan, or an experiment that escaped you?”
“I did not intend for it to become a spectacle, if that is what you are suggesting.”
“And yet it did.”
“Yes. It did.”
Another pause. Then, to her surprise, he laughed quietly. Not unkindly, not loudly, but unmistakably amused.
“That does explain a great deal,” he said.
“You are not angry.”
“I am,” he replied calmly. “But anger is not particularly useful in this situation. In fact, it hardly ever is.”
He turned and gestured down the path.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“To see the consequences of your curiosity.”
She hesitated before following him.
“Am I to be lectured?”
“Almost certainly.”
“And punished?”
“Unlikely,” he said. “I would only find that tedious.”
As they walked side by side, Cassandra became acutely aware of the strange shift between them. He was no longer confronting her, nor was he retreating. Something had changed, and it was subtle but undeniable.
She did not know whether that unsettled her more than plain anger would have.
Voices carried across the lawns, urgent but controlled, servants spreading out in disciplined lines, calling softly, scanning tree lines. Grooms moved with practiced efficiency, reins looped over their arms, expressions tight with concern.
Cassandra slowed her steps. She had not considered this part, not truly.
“They will be found,” His Grace said beside her, reading her hesitation with unnerving ease. “Most of them have not gone far.”
“And if they have?” Cassandra asked quietly.
“Then we will find them as well.”
They walked on. It was near the lower meadow that she saw it first: a dark shape near the treeline, head lowered, utterly unconcerned by the commotion it had caused.
