“You may always speak freely with me. Indeed, I insist you do so.”
Eliza’s smile warmed. “Very well. If I amnotmistaken in what I have seen between you, pray, do not let it slip through your fingers.” Her chin trembled slightly as she smiled. “I would give anything if I could feel but for a day what I felt with Samuel.”
Caroline’s eyes prickled, and she blinked furiously. “And what if I onlythinkI feel that with Mr. Yorke? What if I have simply been charmed by a man whose only true wish is for my votes?”
Eliza searched her face. “I do not think that is the case. But if you are in doubt, observe him more. As a widow of substance, you are in a unique position to pursue your acquaintance with him without damage to your reputation. Spend more time with him until your confidence grows—or your fears areconfirmed.”
Caroline took in a deep breath. The idea of following Eliza’s advice appealed to her. She wanted to see Mr. Yorke again. So much so that, once Eliza had left, she paced the morning room debating whether to send him a note—or find an excuse to go into the village.
The latter felt less forward, so she went up to change into her riding habit while her horse was saddled.
Riding skirts in hand and full of determined energy to puzzle out Mr. Yorke once and for all, she took the stairs down while pulling on her gloves. She adjusted the last finger on her right hand and looked up at the entry hall, stopping short.
Mr. Yorke stared back at her.
17
CAROLINE
It took a few moments and a number of blinks to ensure Caroline was not imagining him there.
She was not. He was there, in the flesh, looking a bit windswept and far too handsome for his own good—and certainly for hers.
“Mr. Yorke,” she said, her voice full of surprise and her stomach somersaulting.
“Lady Radcliffe.” He bowed, then his eyes took in her attire. “Forgive me—I see you are on your way out.”
Caroline opened her mouth to inform him she was on her way to the village, but now that he was here, the journey held little purpose.
“I was going out for a ride,” she said, feeling the need to explain her attire.
“Ah.”
There was a moment of silence as they regarded one another, uncertainty on both ends.
Feeling breathless, she added, “Would you care to join me?”
Surprise flashed in his eyes, then his lip lifted at one edge in a way that did nothing to help her breathlessness. “I would love to.”
Ten minutes later, they were guiding their horses out of Trevenna’s immediate grounds. Caroline ignored the interested, furtive glances of the stable hands. Eliza might be right that Caroline had more leeway as a widow than in her youth, but that did not mean that gossip could be avoided. She was the most prominent figure in Trelowen, which meant there was always an interest in her doings.
“Where do we ride?” Mr. Yorke asked.
“You are my guest,” she said. “Perhaps you should choose.”
He frowned consideringly. “You know the land. Where do you recommend?”
Caroline considered this for a few moments, thinking of all the places she most loved near Trelowen—windy clifftops, heathered moors, wooded paths. Cornwall was amply equipped with striking settings for a ride. But one place in particular came to mind.
“I mistrust that smile,” Mr. Yorke said.
She laughed. “Follow me.”
She urged her horse forward, and Mr. Yorke followed behind as they took a small trail that was hardly visible, for it was rarely used. It hugged a line of trees, then began a steady descent.
“You are not leading me to my death, are you?”
She shot him a playful glance over her shoulder. “Do you dare to find out?”
