“Do you like him?” he asked.
Winter nuzzled his nose into my hand, awkwardly trying to taste the oats. It would not be long before he mastered the skill. I gave Peter a full smile. “I like him very much. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“Of course. Your smile is worth every effort.” He knelt beside me, brushing his hand through Winter’s mane.
I swallowed, smoothing my skirts. Surely Peter only meant to be kind. Perhaps we were becoming friends after all.
The colt finished his oats and was laying on the grass, letting me rub his back. His mother was a few paces away, watching over him. Something about the way the sun reflected in her mane looked so familiar.
“Is that—?”
“Summer? Yes.”
“Summer just had afoal?” My eyes widened.
“Explains a lot, doesn’t it?” Peter looked ahead, picking a blade of grass. “The reason Mr. Beckett had to take her back early yesterday was because she needed to feed Winter.”
“Well, now I feel absolutely awful for hurrying her like I did.” I frowned. Had I known she was a nursing mother, I would have refused to ride her entirely. Summer must still be exhausted.
“Mr. Beckett would not have allowed her out if he did not think both she and Winter were ready,” Peter said knowingly.
I nodded, admiring Summer in the close distance she kept.
“That was very kind of you,” I said to Peter. “Yesterday—helping Cook pick blackberries for Mr. Gregory.”
“You sound surprised.” Peter tilted his head. “Am I so incapable of charity in your eyes?”
I smiled shyly at him. Were my opinions that obvious? “I thought you more likely tobuyblackberries at a market. Not to pick them yourself.”
“You think my money defines me,” Peter said, his eyes clouded by some new emotion. Sadness, perhaps. Or pain. “I can assure you, at the end of the day, I am only the thoughts in my head and the doings of my hands.”
I pondered his words, touched again by the eloquence of his opinion. Could Peter be in earnest? He’d flaunted his money so easily in the glove shop, offering to buy all manner of things for Clara. And he had left us with quite the bag full of ribbons. Then again, I had not heard him speak a word of his fortune since arriving at Lakeshire Park.
“I would guess from your description of Lord Gray you know the burden of work only too well.” Peter leaned in, scratching Winter’s side.
“Perhaps,” I agreed. How I wished money did not define my life, and yet it did. What would it be like to live free of constraint? Free of suffocating circumstances? To choose for myself without thought to society and what I lacked?
Suddenly, Winter stood as though someone had called his name. He jumped around, biting at the wind, chasing after what appeared to be a fly.
Peter and I knelt together, laughing as he played.
“What delight, to be so free.”
“Go chase after him, then.” Peter smiled mischievously. “Your freedom awaits.”
“Do not tempt me.” I laughed, half-considering the notion. I thought of Father and Mama and Clara, of our little estate in Kent. Oh, the adventures I’d had. But it was foolish to act like a child at my age. The time for freedom was long past.
“I shall close my eyes, if it will help,” he said, covering them with both hands and smiling.
“I cannot.” I poked him teasingly, and he rubbed his arm with a playful scowl. “How cruel you are.”
“Fine. Then you can watch me.” He stood up, grasping my hand and tugging me beside him.
Leaving me standing close by, he darted toward Winter, who leaped wildly as Peter tapped him on the back. Winter retaliated by nipping at Peter’s knees. Peter dodged his nips and kicks as though dancing an exotic dance, and I held my waist, laughing, as he reveled in freedom. It became too much to merely watch. The need for a similar carelessness swelled within me.
Timidly, I stepped toward them, and Peter grinned, pushing Winter in my direction. Winter immediately engaged, jumping around me and nipping at my skirts. I gently tugged at his ear in an effort to deter him, but he chased me in circles around Peter.
“Run, Amelia,” he called through a laugh, and I pushed Winter toward him.
