Except he hadn’t. Mr. Steele didn’t need anyone. He’d told her as much in Lady Orpington’s coach. She just hadn’t wanted to accept it. She preferred to trustherinstincts. To believe he was as attracted to her as she was to him.
And yet he had continuously dismissed her, and she was tired of it.
She looked stunning in her new riding habit. If she dazzled him and behaved as if his actions were of little interest to her, could she not reclaim a bit of her pride back?
He might also be pressing her to ride so that he could apologize for what happened last night. The idea of seeing him grovel was worth getting out of bed.
“What of the circles under my eyes?” she questioned Molly.
“Miss Gwendolyn, for a gold coin, they will magically disappear—” The maid wrinkled her nose. “You are wearing your dress from last night. Now I must iron it. That muslin is not easy to keep the creases out of.”
“I know, I know,” Gwendolyn said. Then she caught another look at herself in the mirror. “You should earn two gold coins if you can make me look brilliant.”
“I’ll settle for one. Take your dress off,” Molly ordered, busily pouring fresh water into the basin bowl on the washstand.
Within a half hour, Gwendolyn did appear brilliant in the deep blue habit. Her hair was twisted and pinned at her nape, the better to wear the dashing riding chapeau with its pheasant feather at a jaunty angle. She caught the loop sewn in the overlong train of her skirt in one hand and leftthe room, confident that she looked better than good. She sparkled.
She didn’t meet anyone as she went down the stairs. The hour was still too early. She was glad her footsteps were muffled on the carpet, because her riding half boots were a bit stiff.
A footman bowed and opened the front door for her, and therehewas. Mr. Steele held the reins of two horses that he’d patiently been walking. He had his back turned to her as if he enjoyed the morning, and it was a glorious morning. There was that almost-crisp autumn feeling to the air as the sun filtered through scattering clouds. The light fell upon his person as if the whole universe singled him out.
A sudden case of nerves threatened Gwendolyn’s resolve. To combat it, she pressed her hand against her stomach. He meant nothing her, she told herself. Repeating those words over and over to herself, she walked out onto the gravel drive.
He heard the crunch of her footsteps and turned. His hat was low, but it did not hide the appreciative gleam in his eyes at the sight of her. Yes, Molly had earned that gold coin.
“Are you a rider, Miss Lanscarr?” he said in greeting, holding up the reins to his bay and a gray gelding with a black mane and stockings.
Her answer was to put a foot in the stirrup before the stable lad could reach her with a mounting block. She lifted herself up in the sidesaddle. It was good to have long legs. It gave one an advantage. She arranged her skirts, took the reins from him, and gave the horse a kick. Her fear was that the horse might have a plodding gait, a “lady’s horse,” that would make her desire to demonstrate her skill ridiculous instead of confident.
Fortunately, the gelding surprised her. He set off at a smooth trot. “You will be fun to ride,” Gwendolyn cooed, giving his neck a pat. He released his air as if agreeing.
A beat later, she heard Mr. Steele coming after her. He brought his horse alongside hers. “Does this mean I’ve been forgiven?”
All the angst concerning him came roaring back, and she was doubly annoyed. She wanted to say something sharp, to put him in his place... but then, in that strange way that things happen, a filter lifted, and she saw her actions clearly. She’d idolized Mr. Steele, and that wasn’t wise.
He was a man like any other. Well, obviously more buffle-headed than most since he behaved as if he could control any situation. It was part of his mystique. However, there was one thing he could not control, and that was allowing someone to care for him. Or, even more dangerous, to love him.
“I’m a loner, Miss Lanscarr,”he’d told her.“I like my life the way it is.”
Mr. Steele couldn’t value what he had never known.
And her battered little heart softened because the problem was him, not her. She didn’t know all that had transpired between him and a young Lady Rabron years ago, but she intuitively understood in this moment that it had crippled him. As had being an orphan.
“No,” she said lightly, “my riding with you means that you owe Molly a gold coin.” And with those words, she gave the gray a kick. There was a surge of muscle beneath her, and then the horse shot off like a bolt.
Gwendolyn leaned low, letting the animal decide where they should go as long as it wasn’t back to the stables. The gray gained speed, especially as Mr. Steele and his bay thundered after them.
They rode across the lawn and tore up a path along the ridge, and then Mr. Steele turned the bay in a new direction, but not back toward the house. He slowed to a trot. Her horse instinctively fell into line.
For a few minutes, they rode in companionable silence. Gwendolyn felt her blood sing with the joy of being out on such a beautiful morning.
“You have a good seat,” Mr. Steele said.
“I’m a country lass. I’ve always enjoyed riding. I’ve missed it.”
His expression turned serious. “Miss Lanscarr—” he started, but she stopped him.
“I don’t wish to discuss whatever it is you are about to say. I want to just savor this moment.”
