Miss Darcy said, “When I was too small for my legs to reach the stirrups, he would lead me around the paddock for hours.”
“Happy to do it, Miss Darcy. You were a born rider, even then.” The groom turned to Mr. Darcy. “Atlas is in the loose box at the end, sir. He traveled well, with no signs of distress. Had a good rub down and ate his supper. Seems content.”
“Excellent. Miss Elizabeth would like to meet him.”
The groom’s expression shifted to one of approval. “Would she now? Well, Atlas will be pleased with the company. He’s a social creature, that one. Never happier than when he’s got people about.” He gestured toward the far end of the stable. “This way, miss.”
They walked down the center aisle, past horses whose curious heads appeared over the half-doors. Elizabethrecognized Gracie’s copper coat, then the gray mare Miss Darcy had ridden—Starlight, she had called her. Each horse was beautiful and well-cared-for. Their boxes were clean and spacious. And at the end, in the largest box, stood Atlas.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. She had seen him from the window, but that had not prepared her for the reality of standing before him. He was tall—even taller than she had thought—with that rich bay coat that seemed to glow in the lamplight. His black mane fell thick along his neck, and his dark eyes watched their approach with intelligent interest.
“Atlas,” Mr. Darcy said, moving to the door. “Come.”
The horse’s ears pricked forward. He took a step toward the door, moving with a deliberate grace. When he reached his owner, he lowered his head, and Mr. Darcy’s hand came up to stroke the broad forehead with obvious affection.
“Good lad,” he said in an undertone. “There is a lady here I want you to meet.”
Miss Darcy’s hand found hers, squeezing gently. “Come closer.”
Elizabeth nodded, her excitement threatening to bubble over.
Mr. Darcy stepped aside, making room at the door.
Elizabeth approached, her heart hammering. She extended her hand. The horse studied her, his dark eyes calm and assessing. Then he stretched his neck forward, his nose coming close enough that Elizabeth felt his breath against her palm. His nostrils flared as he investigated her scent, soft velvet brushing against her skin.
“Good evening, Atlas. I am Elizabeth, but you mayknow me as Lizzy, for I believe we will be the best of friends.”
The horse snuffled softly, as though in greeting. Elizabeth grinned.
“He likes you,” the groom said approvingly. “See how his ears are forward? How relaxed his eyes are? That’s a horse at ease.”
“May I…?” Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy. “May I touch him?”
“Of course.” Darcy opened the box gate. “Come inside. He will not mind.”
Elizabeth stepped inside, acutely aware of the horse’s size. Atlas watched her with curiosity, making no sudden movements. She reached up and laid her palm against his neck.
His coat was sleek under her touch, the powerful muscles unmistakable. Elizabeth ran her hand along his neck, marveling at the simple miracle of it. Soon, she would be sitting on his back.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, but you are wonderful.”
Atlas turned his head toward her, his large eyes gentle, and Elizabeth could have sworn he understood.
Behind her, she heard Miss Darcy’s charmed laugh. “I knew you would love him. I told my brother that you would.”
Elizabeth could not look away from Atlas. She stroked his neck, his shoulder, learning every contour. “Thank you,” she said, her voice thick. “This is…” Her voice broke. “I cannot find the words.”
“No words are necessary.” Mr. Darcy stood close enough that Elizabeth could sense his presence at hershoulder. His tender expression surprised her, as though her happiness was his own.
“He will take good care of you.” Mr. Darcy continued. “I promise you that. Atlas has never failed anyone who trusted him.”
“I do trust him.” Looking into the horse’s calm eyes, Elizabeth knew it to be true.
Miss Darcy asked, “Do you have a riding habit with you?”
The words landed like cold water. Elizabeth’s hand stilled on Atlas’s neck. “I—I am afraid I do not.”
The admission burned with shame.
