Chapter Fourteen
Mr. Pendleton was his name. David Pendleton. I rolled the name around on my tongue and tried to focus on Lady Demsworth’s words. She had me cornered in the hallway, barely out of the breakfast room, excitement in her voice as she told me the whole of his life. But I could hardly get past the sound of his name on my lips.
“He is as tall as my Ronald,” she said. “And he loves horse racing, so you’ll have to indulge him in those endeavors now and then.” It was as if she’d forgotten the despair of my circumstances and the engagement was as good as done in her mind.
“I expect we shall receive his response directly; he is fortunately staying in his country house for the summer. I imagine we will have him for dinner within the next few days.” Her eyes were bright as she anticipated my response.
“How wonderful.” My voice cracked at the end. I thought of Peter and felt as hollowed out as an old tree. Thankfully, Lady Demsworth rushed away to tell Cook we would be receiving another guest.
I’d taken a tray in my room the evening before, claiming a headache, and fallen fast asleep. I had few thoughts for Lord Gray other than pity and anger at his neglect. There was no use fighting against a circumstance that stood as tall and immovable as a mountain. Just as I’d done when Mama died, I’d have to take a breath and keep moving. At least I had Mr. Pendleton to save me this time. His family had to be more welcoming than Lord Gray.
Apparently, the night had continued rather late for Clara and the others, as I heard not a sound even long after breakfast. Sunshine beamed brightly through a front window, and despite rain-sodden grounds, nature called to me. Clarity seemed to come in its presence, and I was in dire need of clearing my thoughts, of realigning my priorities and finally facing my own future.
Not to mention avoiding Peter. Our conversation in the stalls yesterday had left me feeling vulnerable. I’d grabbed his hand on an impulse, knowing full well that our afternoons together were no more than casual meetings to protect our sisters. And yet, I’d felt something. Something surprising. Something real. Had he felt it too?
No. Peter was invested in his duty to his sister. He kept me entertained to keep me away from Clara just as I’d done to him during our first few days here. How mortifying to have been so bold and forward. I rubbed my temples. If only I could cancel our bargain and flee from these feelings that only seemed to confuse me more, especially with an engagement on my horizon. But, now more than ever, Clara needed me to keep Peter at a distance. This time was crucial for her and Sir Ronald to make their match. Like it or not, I would have to be available later this afternoon.
“Do be careful not to muddy this,” Mary pleaded as she laid out my light-blue riding habit. “There are only so many remedies for mud stains, and I would hate for you to ruin such a lovely color.”
I offered my thanks for her concern, promising to ride only through the driest edges of the estate. Mary pinned my hair tightly in curls beneath my most fashionable hat, and I tugged on an old pair of leather riding gloves.
When I arrived at the stable house, Mr. Beckett was leading a beautiful filly back into a nearby stall.
“Excuse me, sir,” I called as I approached. “I hoped for a ride this morning.”
He looked up. “Of course, Miss Moore. I saddled Grace for Lady Demsworth, but she made other arrangements this morning. Would you care to ride her?”
“Actually, I am quite attached to Summer. Is she well?”
“A quick ride will suit her today. Just let me finish with Grace, and I shall have Summer ready for you directly.”
“I shall ride Grace.” Peter’s voice sent a tickling shock through me, and I hastily turned to meet him. He wore a brown coat and a soft smile, moving toward the filly. “That is, if Miss Moore does not mind a companion.”
Before I could speak, Mr. Beckett stepped forward. “Oh, no, not Grace, Mr. Wood. She is not keen on male riders—”
“Is that so?” Peter rubbed Grace’s nose. Obviously, he liked the idea of a challenge. “SurelyIcan change her mind on the matter.”
“I would not recommend it, sir.” Mr. Beckett’s face grew serious. “She’s known to buck and cause injury.”
Peter stole the reins from Mr. Beckett’s hands, a look of confidence in his eyes. “Perhaps Grace has yet to meet her match.”
Mr. Beckett saddled Summer while Peter switched the sidesaddle on Grace.
“Does this account for our afternoon, then?” I raised a brow at him.
“I intend to keep you out all afternoon, so yes,” he said as he tightened the leather straps.
I sighed. This was exactly why people were beginning to talk. How would it look if Peter and I were found on a long ride together? Would they assume we pined after each other? That we held a shared affection? The idea was absurd. And yet ... Peter’s voice, his very presence reeled me in like a fish caught on a hook. I wanted to be near him. What did that mean?
More, what did it matter? I stopped, waiting by Mr. Beckett and the mounting block. I could not entertain this feeling growing within me, whatever it was. I was as good as engaged to Mr. Pendleton. Ineededto be. Besides, Peter had said himself the only reason he desired my company was to ensure I kept from encouraging my sister. Regardless of his persistence, that was all he cared about.
Settling atop Summer, I brushed through her golden mane with my fingers. I grasped the leather reins and patted her neck before urging her into a slow walk beside Peter and Grace.
A few moments passed, and the stables shrank behind us.
“Were you sneaking away again?” Peter asked.
I shrugged. “Sometimes I prefer the solitude.” Especially when I needed time to think.
