Marcus frowned, clearly concerned. “But what? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think it will hold your weight.” He barely kept his laughter at bay as his friend’s brows lowered even further.
“My weight? Why would—” Realization dawned, and Marcus shook his head. “It’s for the baby.”
“Well, in that case, I believe the baby has a first-rate ride. What will you call it?”
“Call it?”
Mr. Clancy chuckled. “My lord, Anthony wants to know what its name is.”
Understanding that his friend was new to fatherhood, while he had two brothers who had already reached that status, Anthony explained, “As you and Lady Blackmore hold horses in such high esteem and provide each with a fitting name, I would suggest that you may want to have a name for your child’s first horse so they understand this is expected.”
Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. “Excellent idea. I will think upon it.”
“Then I will leave you to your thoughts and look forward to hearing what you decide upon. You cannot as easily tell us thatyou will wait to reveal the name until it is born, like you have with your child, since this fellow or filly isalreadyborn.”
Marcus grimaced at the reminder of what he and his wife had told everyone, but didn’t say anything.
Anthony walked his Irish Hunter out of the stables and mounted. He was about to set out when the lord came outside. “Wait. You didn’t tell me what you think.”
“But I did.”
“No, I mean, I wished to know if you think Mariel will like it. Lady Sommerset painted it to look as real as possible, and I had the saddle made specifically for it.”
He held back a chuckle. Did the man not realize his wife loved him so much that if he presented her with a simple rattle with a horse engraved upon it, she would be overjoyed? “Lady Blackmore will be absolutely delighted with it.”
“Do you think so?”
“I do.”
Marcus finally appeared to relax. “Thank you. I appreciate your honesty.”
As his former captain, now friend, turned for the stable, Anthony smiled, kicking his mount so he could let out his laughter without anyone hearing. He shook his head even as he set a quick pace. He’d never met anyone so in love with their wife. His own brothers seemed happy, but not besotted like Marcus. He counted himself lucky he need never worry about marrying or children. Being the fourth of four boys did come with advantages.
He slowed his horse as they entered the wood, finding himself anxious to see Lissa again. He’d like to believe it was his interest in what Leighhall carried, but he recognized that he had missed having her about. Though escorting her about the village had been a unique experience. She was quite beautiful, something he’d not recognized in France, though he’d knownthat she was attractive. There was something about seeing her as she must have looked before the loss of her family and home, long before the war came to her lands, that had him appreciating exactly how adaptable she’d been.
He had little doubt that if she set her cap for any of the men he’d drawn her attention to in Talley upon the Green, they would quickly appreciate having her as a wife. But he didn’t want to limit her choices. She’d endured much and deserved to consider as many as she wished. He’d have to arrange an outing to Woodford Chase. He’d spent time there as well, and with help from an acquaintance, he could provide her with at least half a dozen others. Maybe he should—
The thought left as a feeling of being watched filled him. He had no disguise, so his senses were much more attuned to his surroundings. He slowed his mount, hoping it was Lissa, but preparing as if it were another with bad intentions.
The snort of a horse had him turning around, only to have his top hat lifted from his head. Instinct took over and he reached out, grabbing the arm that sought to steal from him.
“Good it is to see that you are still quick,mon ami.”
He looked up and took back his hat before letting Lissa go as she dangled from a tree branch upside down in her usual shirt and trousers, not a little concerned at her precarious position. “Am I to expect an attack upon my person every time I meet with you?”
She held her arms out. “Who is to say?”
“Let me get your horse, so you can get down from there.”
“No need.” She lifted her torso and grasped the branch, then dropped her legs, only to swing her feet onto another, shorter branch, before climbing down to the ground.
Dismounting himself, he waited as she fetched her horse from behind the bushes along the other side of the path.
As she strode back toward him, he only saw the old Lissa, her gait that of a young man, not the graceful walk he’d witnessed on their outing eight days ago. She stopped twenty feet away, the reins in one hand, her other on her hip. “I thought you forgot about me.”
“Hardly. If you remember, I’m tracking. As much as I wished to meet with you, I had to stay with Leighhall.”
