“Riding’s not for the frivolous,” he addressed Pamela.
“Yes, Father, I understand.”
“But—”
“Camelia, let me finish,” he said sternly, and she pursed her lips. He returned his attention to Pamela. “Yes, many ladies do learn horse riding, Pamela. But I need you to understand that it requires specific training and a lot of patience. You have to be ready for the danger of it just as much as you’re ready for the fun of it.”
“I believe I am ready, Father,” Pamela responded confidently.
Raph felt a sudden burst of pride. “Then that settles it. I shall find an instructor. A good one. Is that what you want?”
Pamela’s eyes widened, while Camelia gaped behind her.
Did they really believe me to be so harsh?
Suddenly, a rare smile broke across Pamela’s face. “Yes, Father. Thank you. I… I watch the horses in the stables sometimes. They’re so free. I truly cannot wait to learn horse riding!”
Raph was taken aback by her passion; he had never seen her so bright-eyed before. He hated to admit it, but Camelia was right.
“Horses are free, you say? Horse riding gives the same feeling of freedom. You’ll see for yourself. But I need you two to promise me that you won’t change the rest of your schedules.”
Camelia’s lips curved, her voice coaxing after being silenced by him earlier.
“Oh no…” he muttered under his breath.
“Since horse riding will be added, I was thinking we could remove a lesson?” Camelia cocked her head.
“And what lesson would that be?” Raph asked with a raised eyebrow.
“What about embroidery? Pamela and I do not enjoy it. Our stitches are a struggle, and it’s draining us.”
“Embroidery lessons drag on longer than horse riding would. What would you choose to fill that extra time?”
“I was thinking perhaps we could replace it with something else that Pamela enjoys. She’s truly talented! Tell him, Pamela.”
“There are more hidden talents?”
Her mother would have been proud.
Pamela glanced at Camelia nervously. “I do dislike embroidery, Father.”
“Be honest with me, Pamela,” Raph said dryly.
“All right… It’s awful! I’d rather sketch, or… spend time with the horses.”
Raph’s fingers drummed on the desk, his thoughts racing. “Embroidery is awful? I never knew.”
She has been miserable, and I didn’t notice.
“You hate it that much?” he asked, concerned.
Pamela shifted nervously on her feet. “Yes, Father.”
“You’ll show me your sketches?”
She was taken aback by his sudden interest. “Yes, Father, if you wish to see them. I draw the willows and the roses. It… makes me happy.”
Raph leaned forward. “Fine. No more embroidery lessons, then. We’ll add drawing to your schedule, and riding lessons. But you’ll keep up your etiquette lessons, Pamela. No slacking in that department.”
