What had she done to deserve such cold anger?
"I was not suggesting that she should, Munro," Lachlan was quick to counter. He barely gave Henry a glance. "We can ride within the Henderson estate. I understand there is suitable woodland to the north. We could take the opportunity to get to know one another. To discuss a potential future without the pressure of stuffy conversation and too much wine?"
The words “stuffy conversation” had Belle smiling. Of all the things the man could have said, admitting the ridiculous formalities of the upper classes was the strongest route to winning her approval.
Treat your family name as equal to your own feelings... You are the voice of the Henderson family...
The Hunters were the Hendersons' guests.
"Of course," Belle found herself saying. "A ride would be nice."
The second the words left her mouth, the atmosphere in the room changed. Laird Hunter nodded and puffed out his broad chest. Lachlan was energized as he began to discuss plans. Even Sir Gregory seemed to crack the smallest of smiles.
Only Henry's expression was out of place. He stood, ramrod straight, and stared at Belle with a rage she had never seen before. His hands were by his sides, fisted in frustration, and his eyes were lost and bleak.
They stared at her with a look of betrayed desolation.
12
"Do not tell me that you have no ability in riding a horse."
The words were spoken with such a drawling distaste that Belle knew the speaker immediately. Her hands still on the mare's neck, she turned to see Sir Gregory standing in the stable entryway. In only a single day, the man had made a firm impression on Belle. One that was not well received.
He was stiff, unyielding, and, specifically around her, adopted an attitude of long-suffering. He seemed glad that his laird and master had an heir to call his own, but he was clearly affronted that it should come in the form of a woman who knew nothing of the world in which he lived. He was a pompously pious man, suffering a sin through necessity.
"I have ridden a horse," Belle defended. "I just need help getting on its back."
When she was small, and they had been able to afford a small pony for their wool cart, Elliott had always lifted her onto the back of the animal so that she could ride to the market.
"You cannot mount a horse?" Again, the sneer in Sir Gregory's voice was obvious, but the words never truly insulting. The man was a master at speaking his mind without getting caught in an insult.
When Belle only stared at him, daring him to make a further comment, the aide was frustratingly helpful. He turned to the stableboy on hand and insisted that she was aided into the saddle.
It was the work of a moment, and then Belle was in place upon the back of the pretty, white mare.
"Keep your feet in the stirrups and the reins active but not tight," Sir Gregory instructed. He pointed out how she was meant to sit and then took hold of the hoop on the side of the mare's bit. "When the horse wants to run and stretches her neck, lean forwards so the reins do not pull. Keep your upper legs firm on the horse, but do not dig in your heels. She's a good ride. She will follow the crowd."
The words were tired, spoken from a place of loyalty that would not see his laird's daughter thrown from the back of a horse for the sake of a little advice. But it was clear from the way he looked at her that he personally cared nothing for her safety.
Yet, by the time he had led Belle and the mare from the stable, there was a look of ease upon his face and a respectful gait to his step. Before the eyes of the hunting party up ahead, he was the faithful aide to a regal young lady.
Damn cowardly liar.
Belle hated lies. She hated subterfuge. It was one of the reasons she loved animals so. They could not tell a supposed truth in one ear and then turn to offer another into a second. They could only truly be themselves.
It was why she found etiquette lessons the hardest under Henry's tutorage. It all just felt like a series of tiny lies woven into behavior.
Henry, despite his occupation, had seemed so different.
He had made no bones of the fact that he had been plucked from his life and that her lessons were, at first, a frustration to him. He had also never lied over the purpose of her coming to the Henderson castle. She had thought, for so long, that he had been entirely honest with her. Never playing, never judging.
Now...
As the mare walked steadily toward the hunting group, Belle looked left and right for Henry.
"He is not here," Sir Gregory hissed from the corner of his mouth. "And you would do well to keep your looking for him more subtle."
"I cannot look for my tutor?"
