When she got to the end of hisSonata 11, she turned the page to find an extra sheet. Taking a quick look, she decided it was a practice sheet from one of her students. She shook her head. Undoubtedly Mary Tracy. The girl had even less of an eye for music than she did for mathematics.
Felicity had planned on returning to Mozart after breakfast this morning. From the looks of Lord Flint, she wasn’t going to make it.
He was standing in the doorway frowning. “My apologies. I didn't mean to leave you alone all day yesterday. So, I thought you might like to go out with me this morning. If you'll don your habit...”
Straightening against the discomfort those words produced, she shook her head. “I have none.”
Flint stepped further into the breakfast room. “But you've ridden.”
“I have. Billie is teaching me.” In fact, after luncheon yesterday, he had let her trot around the paddock until her bottom ached.
“In what?”
She sighed. There would be no leisurely cup of tea to be savored while contemplating the view out over the back parterre. No extra crumpet or visit with Herr Mozart. Lord Flint was tapping his crop against his buckskin breeches.
Felicity desperately wished he didn't look so compelling standing there in those form-fitting breeches, the glossy tasseled boots, the gentleman's coffee-colored jacket and mathematical knot in his neckcloth. His clothing merely emphasized the strength and elegance of his form. His coat perfectly fit his broad shoulders. It softened his chiseled features not at all. Nor did it sap the power of his eyes, which gleamed spring green in the morning sunlight.
Blast him for being every girl's fantasy.
She held her arms out to her sides. “This is what I wear. Since I have only been riding about your estate, it did not seem quite so outrageous that my half-boots showed a bit.”
He dragged his hand through his hair, completely destroying the Brutus cut his valet had obviously spent time on. “You...I thought you had ridden the paddocks.”
“No. I did go farther afield.” She tilted her head. “Oh, I see. If I went that far, why didn't I simply keep riding? Because Mr. Burke was attached to me like a cocklebur, that's why. Besides, he would have been blamed for my escape, and I did not wish him to be punished. He has been most kind to me.”
Lord Flint’s attention wandered even as he gave a vague nod. “I was thinking of touring the farms today.”
She nodded. “They have been anxious to see you.”
That reclaimed his attention. “You'veseenthem?”
Another moment for a lifted eyebrow, Felicity thought. “They are on the property. And Mr. Burke likes to stop in regularly. I believe I like the Fosters the best. They have a lovely new baby with bright red hair. And Mrs. Foster
bakes the most delicious currant scones. You might want to check on the thatching, though. It's a bit spotty.”
Felicity deliberately smiled. Flint was looking more thunderous by the second.
“What would a deportment teacher know about thatching?” he demanded.
“She would know when rain plops on her nose while being served scones in a kitchen.”
“I'll get you an interview with the duke,” he growled. “I'm certain he would be delighted to know you have everything well in hand.”
“I should be happy to instruct him.”
Popping the last bit of crumpet into her mouth, Felicity got to her feet. Her frock today was another disaster, a moss-green Circassian cloth with long sleeves and a bit of worn lace about the collar. Not very attractive as a dressor a habit. At least it was heavy and long enough to protect her modesty on a side saddle.
“Shall we go?” she asked, giving her skirts a final brush-off as she joined him at the door.
He didn't answer, just turned and preceded her down the corridor to get her bonnet and spencer and exit the house.
The stable block was set behind the kitchen, a sturdy brick C that housed a dozen healthy denizens including Flint's matched carriage grays and the stallion he had ridden down, a massive chestnut with a bright eye. Billy Burke was standing in the yard between the stallion and the sleepy-looking black Felicity had been riding.
Her horse nudged her shoulder and was rewarded with a lump of sugar. The stallion alongside nickered and stretched out his neck to receive his own. Felicity chuckled at the imperious look in his eye.
“Now you're making up to my horse?” Flint demanded.
“I have discovered that horses are often superior acquaintances to humans,” she said, letting the chestnut lip the sugar from her palm. “What is his name?”
