Page 23 of Managing the Major

Carter unfolded a white cotton shirt and helped Alastair slip it over his shoulders. “That’s good to hear, sir.”

“Coming to London this Season has opened my eyes to what I’ve missed these past four years. Inserting myself into the ton will lay some groundwork to get that hospital built, and I need to face them squarely on both feet.”

“That’s a fine plan, Major. And what will you be wearing to start this new chapter?”

“I’m walking in the park, so just a stock and one of my heavier coats.”

It galled him to need help to dress himself, but trying to tie a stock or slip on a shirt and coat when he could hardly raise his left arm was problematic. At least he could bend the elbow now, but the hand and fingers remained too weak to be of much help. It took a month of practice to master stepping into his trousers and fastening the buttons of his fall with one hand.

When he finished, the valet held out a bottle-green wool coat. Alastair shrugged it on, slid his feet into shoes, and swallowed the rest of his coffee.

“Have my driver fetch the carriage, Carter. I’m not sure when I’ll return, but I have no plans tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

After they reached Hyde Park Corner, Alastair instructed his driver to drop him at the Stanhope Gate and to wait at the Whitehouse entrance until he came out.

March was nearly over, and the days, though inconsistent, were growing warmer. At eight o’clock in the morning, the sun was still weak and the air chilly, but he counted on the walk to warm him. He reached the Achilles statue and debated on the route to take. The Ring Road was more scenic, but even this early, he might have to dodge carriages. He turned instead towards Rotten Row, preferring to face the occasional rider, and made slow but steady progress along the avenue, trying to use his walking stick as little as possible.

As Alastair turned down the Ladies’ Mile, the stretch of road was empty except for two riders. One was an unknown gentleman in a caped greatcoat, but the second he recognized immediately. It was hard to mistake the flashy bay stallion and the impeccable seat of Miss Octavia Merrick.

His heart thumped as he stood by a chestnut tree and watched her approach, unsure if she had seen him or not. While still distant, she halted the horse and asked for a turn on the haunches, a movement he knew well from the regiment. The animal balked stubbornly, tossed its handsome head, and started to rear.

Patiently, Miss Merrick waited for it to settle and asked again, this time for just a step in that direction, stroking its arched neck as the horse complied. Taking several minutes, she coaxed the horse into a turn one step at a time until the horse finally pivoted from the pressure of her leg. She lavished praise on the animal and repeated the exercise. Then, after walking forward a few yards, she halted again and executed the movement smoothly.

Years in the British army had given Alastair an eye for good training. As Miss Merrick let the horse walk forward on a loose rein, he stepped out from the tree and started toward her, taking care not to lean too heavily on the stick.

She looked up in surprise. “Major Fairfax. I didn’t expect to see anyone I knew this early. I’ve been taking Lucifer out during quieter times so I could better work on his education.” She tossed him a rueful smile. “My last attempt to ride in Hyde Park convinced me to try a different approach before facing people again.”

He had misjudged her; she had not been showing off that day, merely dealing with a resistant animal.

“It looks like Lucifer has improved since I saw him last.”

“Are you out for a walk, Major Fairfax? May I dismount and join you?”

Flattered and pleased that she wished to accompany him, he offered his good arm to help her down, then slipped the reins over the stallion’s head as she adjusted her skirts. The horse stretched its neck toward the ground and blew noisily.

Alastair handed her the leather reins and rubbed Lucifer’s gleaming neck.

“He’d better be tired,” she laughed. “We cantered laps up and down Rotten Row before training this morning. I’ve been speaking with Jerome, my brother’s stable manager, about the best method to bring Lucifer along. He’s given me some excellent advice.”

“I’ve heard the earl’s carriage horses are among the best in England. Jerome suggested you ride early in the morning?”

“I’m in the habit of training early with fewer distractions anyway, but Lucifer seemed ready to move on to crowds. In retrospect, I might have rushed him, and he reacted badly out of anxiety. Jerome says he’s still very immature for a four-year-old.”

Miss Merrick could admit she was mistaken, even though she was a very accomplished equestrienne. That pleased him for some odd reason. They walked in companionable silence, and Alastair was relieved that he kept pace, even if she moved more slowly for his benefit. He glanced down; the netting from her fashionable black hat revealed a classic profile, with a delightfully straight nose, curved lips, and an ivory complexion still flushed from riding.

“Major Fairfax, could I ask a question?” She sounded unusually hesitant, and he tensed, wondering what was on her mind.

“Yes, Miss Merrick, you may,” keeping his voice light.

“No doubt, with your military service, you have ridden horses for many years.”

“That’s very true. I’ve enjoyed them from an early age and still keep a small stable at my country manor.”

“Do you not miss riding dreadfully?”

He was entirely caught off guard by the question. “Certainly, I do. But regretfully, that part of my life is in the past.”