“Yes, he’s mine. Would you like to see him? I only hope he remembers me. He’s been stabled here since I left for India.”
They made their way to the end of the rows of stalls and stopped in from of the last one. A large horse nickered and stuck his head over the door. Jillian stepped back cautiously.
“Don’t let him frighten you,” Justin stated. “Go on, you can touch him.”
She hesitantly reached out her hand to touch the horse’s nose. The horse immediately began to nuzzle her hand and she jerked back in alarm.
Justin chuckled. “He’s just looking for a carrot or a bit of sugar.”
“He is big,” she said in awe. “But not so ugly.”
The horse tossed his head, prancing in place in the stall.
“You remember me, don’t you, boy?” Justin said, rubbing Cyclops’s neck affectionately.
The horse neighed, shoving at Justin’s shoulder with his nose.
“I’ll give you a good run tomorrow,” Justin promised.
Justin turned once more to the groom. “Ben, Lady Penroth has a desire to learn to ride. Have we a suitable saddle?”
“Aye, your grace. Your mother’s is in the tact room as good as the day it was purchased. Queenie would make the perfect choice for her ladyship’s first ride.”
“Yes indeed,” Justin agreed. He turned to Jillian. “Queenie is an older mare, very docile and about as motivated for speed as a tortoise. You’ve nothing to fear from her. What do you say to your lesson beginning first thing in the morning?”
She frowned as she suddenly remembered one important fact. “I don’t have anything suitable to wear. I refuse to attempt such an endeavor in an outfit such as this,” she said, gesturing impatiently at the long, full skirts of her dress. “And I don’t have a riding habit.”
“I could let her ladyship borrow some of me boy’s breeches,” Ben offered dubiously, trying to gauge their reaction to such a scandalous suggestion.
Jillian’s expression brightened, and Justin felt his own darkening.
He remembered well her last escapade in breeches and he knew if she showed up for her lesson clad in those tight-fitting pants he would be reduced to a blithering idiot. He pictured the delectable sight of her shapely bottom, the gentle curve of her hips just perfect for a man’s hand. Jillian’s impatient calling of his name rudely interrupted his thoughts. And he hadn’t even gotten to her breasts yet. He sighed heavily and looked down at Jillian and Ben, who were regarding him with curiosity.
“Justin? Did you hear me?”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
She gave him a look of exasperation. “I said that since no one even knows I am here, I don’t see any issue with my wearing breeches.”
Damn but she looked excited over the prospect. He groaned inwardly. “If you would feel more comfortable,” he said amiably.
“What? No objection from the paragon of propriety?” she asked in mock horror. She dissolved into a giggle when he rolled his eyes heavenward.
“I guess I deserved that,” he said grudgingly.
In that moment, Jillian realized she truly liked him. His willingness to admit when he was in the wrong was endearing. Not many men would accept it so graciously. She looked at him intently, seeing him in a new light. His eyes were sincere, without a hint of deception. What was it Case had said?Justin is the most honorable man I know. Jillian couldn’t fault his almost annoying sense of propriety. It was more than a façade with Justin. It was something he placed great importance on. His conscience demanded it. Conscience. It was not a trait she was accustomed to finding in a man.
The fire was burning briskly in the sitting room when the two returned to the house. Jillian liked the room immensely. It was large, yet it had a cozy appeal. In the center of the far wall was a giant stone fireplace. It could have easily encompassed an entire side of beef for roasting over a spit. Logs, not pieces of wood burned in the hearth.
Above the fireplace was a thick oak mantle. Above that, a portrait of the former duchess hung from the wall. She was a lovely woman, elegant and stately looking. Jillian thought Case favored her greatly.
Against the wall to the left of the fireplace stood a large bookcase, volumes filling the shelves. Her hands fairly itched to peruse the pages within. A piano sat to the right of the fireplace, just in front of a large window that looked out the front of the house. Sumptuous sheepskin rugs adorned the floors in various places, one in front of the hearth, others in front of the large settee and chairs situated close to the fire.
The room lacked the formality of most sitting rooms, and Jillian could not help but think this was a family room where everyone met to enjoy each other’s company. She felt a pang of longing, one that was familiar to her. What would it have been like to grow up in a close-knit family with loving parents and siblings to interact with? She settled into a plush armchair close to the fire, lost in her thoughts.
Justin watched the display of emotions on her face, curious as to the cause of her pensiveness. She had the look of a lost child, her eyes wide and so transparent. She puzzled him as no woman had ever done. She was unpredictable, but she had a depth he found astonishing. So many women of his acquaintance were shallow, insidious creatures.
He hadn’t bothered to correct Jillian when she had called him a romantic. True, he was loath to settle for anything less than marriage to a woman he loved, but he had little confidence that he would ever find a woman that lived up to his expectations. The thought of a loveless, lifeless marriage depressed him.
