“Excuse me?” he said with a laugh. “How could I call myself a gentleman if I were to do such a thing?”
“The term is used rather loosely in my opinion.”
Owen’s chest burned and he narrowed his eyes. Did she mean to insult him due to the way his family rose in rank? Being merchants first, then purchasing an estate with their own hard-earned funds? In his mind, it was more difficult to do and thus should demand more respect. But that was not the case in society.
He gathered his wits and patience, reluctantly holding his hand out to her. “My family may be merchants, but we are still gentlemen.”
“No, that was not what I meant—”
“Leah, just come back with me. It is freezing out here.”
Mr. Ashley turned to Owen, shock coloring his cheeks, but Owen pressed on. He had known Leah most of their lives. It was natural for him to use her Christian name. Though, after her jab he was not sure she deserved to ride his nicely saddled horse. “You and your maid can ride together. How can that possibly be disagreeable to you?” He was sure she of all people could find a reason.
She narrowed her eyes, watching him as he stood in the blustery wind.
“Fine,” she finally conceded. She stood, coming to the door where Owen still held out his hand. She glared at it, but after glancing at the icy step that led out to her freedom, she reluctantly took it. “Do not let go and make me fall.”
Owen tilted his head to the side with a roll of his eyes. “Leah, I would never do such a thing.”
“Of course not. Because you are a gentleman, correct?”
What was going on? Leah had always been stubborn and headstrong, but usually he felt their teasing was much lighter. Now her remarks were cutting, and Owen was quite sure that if looks could actually kill, he would be dead where he stood. Perhaps she was more disappointed in her failed travels than he had realized. “Yes, I am,” he bit out. “Now, let us get you and your maid saddled before we all freeze.”
Her maid moved to step out of the carriage and Mr. Ashley helped her down. “I told you, I will not ride that thing.”
“It is the quickest way home, Rebecca,” Leah said, hunching her back. “And I say we take the meager offering from Mr. Turner before he changes his mind.”
“Meager?” Owen bit down to keep his teeth from chattering. It really was blasted cold. “Would you have me carry you back? I daresay my horse will be much faster.”
Her nostrils flared and she took slow, measured breaths. Finally, she blew out a lungful of air, creating a fog of frustration about her mouth. “Just help us get saddled please.”
“I would be happy to.” He walked over to his mount, readying to assist the ladies up. Leah went first, struggling to get up due to the constriction of her skirts. Finally, she settled herself, but sitting astride caused her hem to rise nearly to her knee.
Owen’s eyes briefly froze on her stocking-clad calf, but he forced himself to shut his eyes against the sight. The cold air seemed to dissipate for a moment as heat rose up his neck and all the way up to the top of his head. He cautiously opened his eyes a moment later and Leah had pulled her cloak forward, successfully concealing her lower leg. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“Miss,” Rebecca gasped. “You are riding astride.” Luckily, the young maid did not suffer from muteness as Owen seemed to.
“There really isn’t any other way.” Owen cleared his throat and held his hand out to her. “It is not a side saddle.”
The maid looked at his horse as if it would kick or bite her without warning, so Owen reached a hand out, petting the mare’s head. He couldn’t truly attest to the creature's temperament as he had just rented it in town. But from what he could tell, it was a gentle horse.
The maid gave it one last leery glance before accepting Owen’s hand, trying to raise herself up in the stirrup whilst attempting to swing her leg across the horse’s back. Her foot got tangled in her skirts and she kicked and cursed as she fought to right herself.
“Here.” Owen reached up, doing his best to assist, but her flailing made him fear injury. “Please, stop kicking.”
She squeaked, her foot thoroughly tangled in her dress as she fell off the horse and into a pile of snow. She used fisted hands to beat the snow. “See! Horrid creatures!”
Owen looked up to Leah, who was attempting not to laugh as she watched her maid, while simultaneously trying to find shelter behind the mare’s neck. “I hardly say it is the horse’s fault. She has been a saint to sit here so still in this wind.”
“I am not getting back on that thing.” The maid shook her head, pushing herself up out of the snow. “I will walk.”
“Fine,” Owen bit out. His patience was done and he wanted to get insidenow. “I will ride back with Miss Thompson and you may walk back with the horses and Mr. Ashley.” He stomped through the snow, grabbing the horses’ reins and swinging himself up behind Leah who practically recoiled as he mounted.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked.
He snapped the reins, setting the horse off. “I am getting us out of this horrid weather and back to Stonehill where it is warm and dry, and likely has a steaming pot of tea waiting for us.”
“They are not expecting me. They think I shall be at Amelia’s house.”
