Page 18 of The Gentlewoman Companion

“What was that, my lord? You’re muttering.”

“Hold your tongue, Graham.”

His valet chuckled.

A crunch of leaves signaled Miss Thorpe’s return. With cheeks in high color and puffy eyes, she emerged from the trees.

“We will return on foot,” Halverton told her, “if that is what you wish.”

Her jaw flexed. “You were right. I don’t want to be afraid.”

He nodded at her decision and began repeating every bit of instruction he could pull from his brain to encourage her.

She interrupted in the middle of his telling her how to grip the pommel. “My lord, you are not qualified to instruct me on that particular. If you mount Daisy and ride her for a few minutes, perhaps you will give better advice.”

He almost laughed, but her mouth turned down. He examined the saddle, which was very different than the one he used. A U-shaped pommel curled from the seat, into which a lady wrapped her leg to add stability when both legs lay to one side. How did women manage to ride at all? He’d never considered the problem.

Miss Thorpe raised her brow and opened her hand, pressing him to act. If women rode aside in skirts, surely he could do the same in breeches.

He slid his foot into the stirrup and manipulated his leg into the pommel. It pinched his thigh. “Graham, bring me the riding crop.” Twisting his body toward the front of the horse, he tightened his legs around the pommel and urged the horse forward, feeling ridiculous but eager to help Miss Thorpe. The weight of her eyes motivated him onward. After a few moments, his abdomen burned from the strain, but he moved into a trot and then a canter before turning around.

Miss Thorpe and Graham stood together, watching him, Miss Thorpe with pursed lips while Graham fisted his hand over his mouth.

He stopped in front of them. “You are sporting with me.”

They burst into laughter, Miss Thorpe throwing her head back.

“It’s merely,” she gasped, “I did not expect you would do it.”

Helpless and awkward, Halverton watched them try and fail to collect themselves, falling instead into fitful guffaws. Their amusement grated against his ribs. He was an earl, and they were making fun of his attempt at kindness. His leg caught as he swung it around the pummel, sending him momentarily off balance. He hastily righted himself, dismounted, and straightened into his most intimidating posture, all of which added to Miss Thorpe’s amusement.

“I am sure you will let me know if I may assist you further,” he said, annoyed by the edge in his voice. He rarely lost his composure.

Miss Thorpe turned to Graham. “He doesn’t know he is funny.” She giggled.

To his credit, the valet pulled a neutral face.

“My lord,” she said, through mirth that now streamed down her face, “do not be cross.” Bent over, with one hand on her stomach, she reached for him as if in support. Her gloved fingers tightened around his wrist, her warmth seeping up his arm, untangling his vexation. She took a deep breath and straightened. “You have cured my fear. I can ride home.”

Her appreciation softened any remaining irritation. “It is not easy to ride aside. I applaud you.”

“Oh, but you are a natural, my lord. Would you like to take Daisy home?” Her grin brightened the din of the forest. He must have stared at her for a beat too long, for she turned her back to him and patted Daisy’s neck.

Halverton gave Miss Thorpe a leg up, and she arranged herself atop Daisy with a determined set to her jaw.

“We will go slowly home, and if anything should spook the horses, you know what to do,” said Halverton, mounting Goliath.

Miss Thorpe maintained irreproachable form all the way to the stables, even braving a small jump once they returned to the paddock. She smiled at him in triumph and gratitude, and he could not help wondering how he could become the source of more smiles such as that.