“Your grandmother said as much, that first day when I visited. Your father gave her instructions on what to do.”
Her brow puckered. “That makes no sense. If he wanted such a peace, he could have seen to it himself.”
“Perhaps he thought a new generation meant a new, clean page. He may have assumed that I would have cause never to trust him or listen to such a plan if it came from his lips. I find it odd that he did not tell you his thinking on this, since you were so close to him.”
She pondered that, not happily. “He barely mentioned your family at all in my presence, as I have said.”
“Not even to your grandmother? If they plotted this together, you might have overheard them.”
She frowned all the more. “And yet I did not,” she murmured, as if in her mind she found that odd too.
“When will your new wardrobe be ready?” He changed the subject lest he give in to the impulse to kiss that frown away.
She pulled her thoughts away from wherever his questions had sent them. “I told them to see to my sister first.”
“So you are condemned to black another month? That is unfair.”
“If I merely wanted some color, I could wear what is in my wardrobe. I left fair-weather garments in London and have now moved them to Bedford Square.”
“Do you have a riding habit among them?”
“I do, but I did not bring my horse to town and should not borrow one of my brother’s now. Nor would I wear bright blue in the park where anyone could see me.”
He saw her in that bright blue, flushed from galloping into the breeze. “I have a horse that you can borrow.”
Her eyes lit for an instant before she subdued her excitement. “I do not think it would be appropriate for me to use your horse.”
“Is there a rule of propriety about that? Similar to how often a woman dances with a man who is not her intended?”
A smile tried to break. She bit it back. At least the frown was gone.
“Hear my plan, and refuse if you choose. On Sunday I will bring a horse to your house,” he said. “You can wear the bright blue because we will be out of town before anyone is up and about. Instead of the park, we will ride in the country. I will have my cook prepare a basket.”
She just looked at him.
“You know that you miss riding,” he said. “Nor will we have to weave among the fashionable set on a park’s path. We can ride hard if we choose.”
She visibly wavered.
The carriage stopped just then. They had arrived on Bedford Square.
He helped her alight from the carriage.
“I will call at ten on Sunday,” he said.
She did not say anything. Since she was not a woman who held her tongue when in disagreement, he decided that meant she consented.
Chapter Nine
Clara went to bed on Saturday with a little prayer that it would rain in the morning. When she woke to a gloriously beautiful day, however, she greeted the weather with more enthusiasm than she expected. She blamed that on how long it had been since she had enjoyed a good ride. Any equestrienne would want to be in a saddle on such a day.
Jocelyn helped her dress and only raised one eyebrow when Clara called for the blue riding habit. Clara decided one eyebrow was allowed when the woman had been her maid for close to ten years and now performed multiple duties with only a few complaints about ladies’ maids not doing that kind of thing.
Jocelyn helped her dress, then fixed her hair and set a small hat on her crown. She anchored it with two hatpins, then prepared her reticule.
By ten o’clock she was ready, standing by the library window to see if Stratton would show. She had not actually accepted his invitation. He might have concluded coming here with an extra horse in tow would be pointless.
Promptly at ten o’clock she spied him turning his white horse into the square. A beautiful chestnut horse paced behind him.
