“It keeps me busy,” he said. “There’s one stallion in Gloucestershire you might like. Fierce temperament. Relentless.”
“Let me guess. You named him something grim and frightful.”
“Hades.”
She snorted. “Of course.”
“It suits him. He’s not easily forgotten.”
“So, you prefer dangerous creatures, then?”
He glanced at her. “Sometimes. But I find I’m increasingly intrigued by unpredictable ones.”
She tilted her head, lips curving. “You mean to say I’m unpredictable?”
“I mean to say you’ve outpaced me twice already. In wit and in riding.”
“Well, I can’t let my husband grow too confident. That would be unbearable.”
“Then I thank you for keeping me humble, Duchess.”
She smiled. “I think you enjoy it.”
“I enjoy many things I shouldn’t,” he murmured, and his eyes lingered on her just a second longer than necessary.
The wind stirred the edge of the veil on her bonnet, and her pulse jumped. He looked entirely too composed for a man making such statements.
“Tell me,” she said lightly, “is this how you charm all your riding companions?”
“You assume I have others.”
“Do you?”
“None quite so loquacious.”
“Well,” she said, meeting his gaze, “perhaps your life has been dreadfully boring until now.”
“I believe it has.”
“I suppose I’ll have to name your children instead.”
He looked at her, surprised. “You’re planning to name them Plum as well?”
“Only if they behave. Otherwise, Cerberus.”
After a time, their conversation turned to quieter things. Books. April remembered catching glimpses of Theo reading in the garden. The memory of him beneath the arbor, so absorbed, came vividly.
“What were you reading the other day in the gardens?”
He glanced at her—and said nothing.
“Race me,” he suggested suddenly.
“You are avoiding the question.”
But he had already spurred his horse forward. She gave a small cry of surprise and urged Belle into motion.
They thundered across the field, the wind tearing at her veil, laughter rising with each stride. Her mare flew, swift and sure, and April leaned into the rhythm, her heart pounding.
