Page 42 of Winning Her Duke

“You are quite clever yourself, Your Grace.”

*

The next morning, Gia dressed quickly and met a frowning Owen at Tattersall’s where he waited with Arabella in a regular saddle and a palfrey named Rosey wearing a side saddle.

This had been their routine every morning so long as the weather was fit for riding, but this morning Owen was frowning more than usual.

“What is it? And be warned, if you plan to try to dissuade me from meeting the duke, I will not listen. He has confirmed he thinks of me as a dear friend, so riding with him is really no different than riding with you, whom I have always considered a friend. You even grumble and snort in the same Scottish manner so I can assure you it is no different.”

Owen let out a grumpy sound and rolled his eyes.

“Of course, lass. It’s quite clear you feel nothing but friendship for the duke. Nothing at all.” There was more, but he mumbled it so low she couldn’t hear what he said and didn’t particularly want to.

Whether she thought more of the duke than friendship was of no import, for friendship was all he was offering and all she would ask for.

“Shall we?”

She climbed up on the silly saddle and pushed Rosey faster so she could get to Hale quicker.

He was waiting astride the tall stallion with a smile. He hopped down as she came closer.

“Please allow me to assist you down from this temperamental beast,” he teased, but stepped back as she jumped down without any help.

It was amazing how well he’d come to know her in just a few weeks.

He did however assist her with the hooks of her riding habit to remove the skirts so she could ride in her buckskins. Moments ago, she’d assured Owen there was no difference between him and the duke, but the fumbling in Gia’s fingers said otherwise. And the grumpy sound Owen made proved he knew it.

Arabella greeted her brother as she and Hale started out on a path. He would run Godspell later during his training. This morning was just for enjoyment and warming up.

As they rode, they laughed and taunted one another; too soon it was time to return.

“Will you be attending the Rochester ball this evening?” he asked casually.

She winced and shook her head. “No. Lydia is set on going to the Barnett musicale.”

“And you do not like music?”

“I do like music. I just don’t like sitting for long periods of time to listen to music,” she explained. Even in the country, she and her father were often invited to performances at a neighboring estate.

It was truly horrible to be forced to sit for so long regardless of the skill of the performer. Gia preferred to be moving. It was probably the reason why she’d never taken to other activities suitable for a gently bred lady such as embroidery. Even reading, as much as she enjoyed it, was reserved for rainy days when she couldn’t be outside.

Hale was still smiling at her with a grin that gave her a glimpse of the naughty boy he must have been in his youth.

“Then I shall come just so I can watch you squirm.”

“You are the devil,” she accused.

“As you’ll recall, I’ve never claimed otherwise.” He tipped his hat and rode away.

Without realizing it, she stood there smiling until she lost sight of the intriguing man. She was pulled from her gawking by a gruff voice from behind her.

“Ach, aye. ’Tis just friendship ye feel for the duke. Clear as day,” Owen said with his bushy brow raised.

Gia whacked her surly groom in the arm, causing a rusty laugh from the older man.

Was she actually looking forward to attending a musicale?

Apparently, she was.