“Oh.” That made things a little more difficult, though a horse was a horse except for its markings. As long as she knew if it was a male or a female.
“Tell me the name of your favorite horse. I’ll tell you if I remember which one it is.”
“Percy.”
Hm. It had been nearly a year since she’d been to Maggie’s country house and seen Grayson or his horse, but she recalled one he rode most often.
“Black gelding with a white blaze.”
“That’s him,” he agreed.
Good. She could sketch from any of the horses in the Angsley stables, and then use her Staedtler oil pastel pencils to make it look like Percy.
However, before they reached Mrs. O’Connor’s room, one of the servants from the hall intercepted them.
“Her ladyship has had us looking high and low for you, Mr. O’Connor. She’s had word from the Earl of Cambrey.”
“Apparently not high enough,” Grayson muttered. He turned to Eleanor. “Would you like to continue to my mother’s or…?” he trailed off, looking at her dress and shrugging slightly.
“No, never mind about my skirts. Let’s go find out what John wrote.”
Chapter Seven
“Ihope Idid not alarm you,” Lady Angsley apologized, though when she saw the state of Eleanor, she looked quite alarmed herself.
Not knowing what else to do, Eleanor curtsied to her. “I was in a tree, my lady, watching the river. Grayson came and found me and brought me back safely.”
Best to make it sound like an act of heroism. Then she realized with disgust how easily she’d fallen into prevaricating.
“Actually, that’s not true precisely,” she amended. “I wasn’tinthe tree when he found me, but since I was going up it anyway, he helped me climb and then helped me get back down.”
Lady Angsley frowned, either not caring about the lengthy explanation or displeased with her guests.
“I see,” she intoned. “I have no doubt one of our maids can clean and repair it, and there’s always Grayson’s mother.”
“About the message from Turvey House,” Grayson interjected, sounding impatient.
“Oh, yes! My husband’s nephew says all is well with little Rose. Margaret doesn’t seem feverish anymore, but she has been unable to keep down her food. Her stomach is in the midst of upheaval, and John says his is, too.”
“And Cam’s fever is also gone?” Grayson asked.
“Apparently so.”
The three of them stood there a moment.
“Is that all?” Grayson persisted.
“Yes.” Her ladyship gave a small shrug. “I told you I didn’t mean to alarm you.”
“Was there nothing specifically from my sister for me?” Eleanor hoped maybe Lady Angsley had simply neglected to mention it.
“No.”
After another brief pause, her ladyship smiled invitingly. “Would you care to do some needlepoint with me? I believe Phoebe is also going to be in the drawing room working on a cushion.”
Eleanor would rather go back to a stuffy London ballroom. At least there, she would be moving and drinking champagne or lemonade, but pricking one’s fingers over and over to make an ugly cushion cover or wall hanging seemed ridiculous.
“Thank you, but I had best go change out of these clothes before I get any dirt on your furniture.”
