Page 53 of Managing the Major

Octavia brushed past her and forged through the approaching crowd, almost colliding with Sir William.

“Miss Merrick, forgive my clumsiness.”

“No, no…it was entirely my fault…”

He looked at her with concern. “You look very pale—are you unwell? May I escort you to your mother?”

She was relieved to see Genevieve emerge from the people converging on the door.

“Don’t worry, Sir William. I’ll see to her.”

“If you could find Lady Amelia and tell her I’m ready to leave, you would have my gratitude,” Octavia requested.

“I saw that awful woman stop you,” Genevieve said in a low voice once he had left. “What on earth did she say?”

“She warned me about Alastair. Oh, Genevieve—there has to be something between them.”

“Not necessarily. Some women are deceitful by nature, especially in the face of competition. You must not jump to any conclusions until you speak with Major Fairfax.”

“Very well,” Octavia said doubtfully. “I will try to keep an open mind.”

“Do that,” she urged and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Your mama is coming. Pinch your cheeks, or she will know something is up. Send me word tomorrow.”

*

On Thursday morning, ten o’clock couldn’t come fast enough. Octavia was up well before eight, despite climbing into bed at four o’clock the night before. She changed riding outfits twice as Freya watched her throw the discarded clothing in the corner, cocking her head to one side. The first ensemble was her black habit, which she deemed too formal for the occasion, and the second had a tear in the skirt, so she settled on the same outfit she had worn riding at Fairfax. Perhaps it would bring good fortune today.

Breakfast was out of the question since her stomach was already churning in anticipation of Alastair’s visit, but she took some tea and milk and took two bites from a piece of toast before feeding it to Freya and going down to the stables. She wanted to make sure everything was perfect when he arrived. They hadn’t much time, with tea planned at the Croydens’ later in the afternoon.

Her mother opted to spend the night with Valentina and Denys after they had called on her sister yesterday. She planned to be home in time for the outing to Pont Street, but she sent word that Valentina was uncomfortable and anxious with her time so close. It would be no surprise to Octavia if her mother didn’t make it to tea after all.

Lady Amelia suggested she cancel the appointment with Alastair since she would be gone, but Octavia waved away her concerns. Certainly, she did not need a chaperone during daylight hours at their home, and reminded her mother that Peter would be present at the stables, and Merrick House would be full of servants as always.

She secretly planned on sending Peter to Hyde Park with Lucifer after riding. Her emotions were running high, and the last thing she needed was for him to witness an outbreak of tears, or worse, angry words between Alastair and herself.

The airy stone barn was spotless as usual, and Peter was busy grooming Thor and the young mare Octavia intended to ride. Four stalls were as many as the smaller structure could accommodate, besides the areas for grooming and storage. Merrick was a spacious property for the center of London, but small for her needs. After Richard moved out of Merrick House, she had rebuilt the courtyard into a small riding area, although the most serious work took place in the park just across the street.

There was a pleasant sitting area adjacent to the barn where onlookers could view the horses at work, and it all worked satisfactorily. Lately, she debated finding some property outside of London to grow her enterprise.

At a quarter to ten, Peter had the horses tacked and ready. Thor had been ridden on Tuesday, so Octavia expected him to be fine, but the mare, a three-year-old from Richard’s farm in the north, would most likely be a handful. He had a man who started them under saddle, but whenever Richard sent her a prospect, it seldom had more than rudimentary training.

She got on early to work it down and was only a few minutes into the ride when Alastair came through the tall gate surrounding the property. He wore no hat, and his tousled blond hair glinted in the sunlight. Her heart jumped as she admired his tall figure, slim-hipped and broad-shouldered beneath his umber coat.

The roan mare decided to kick out at that moment, but Octavia kept her seat as Alastair approached the enclosure.

“Good morning, Octavia. I see you have your hands full.”

“At this moment, yes, but I’ll work her down while you mount up. My groom has Thor in the barn, and we have a fairly tall block for mounting; Peter can give any help you need.”

“No Freya this morning?”

“Goodness, no. I would be in the treetops if she chased this mare.”

She went about her business, thinking it better if he and Peter worked out any problems getting on the horse by themselves. Soon, she heard the latch on the wooden gate, which Peter opened so Alastair could join her in the riding area. Her horse had settled, and she joined him in a leisurely walk, glad to see that he could now hold a rein in each hand, although the left one rested in Thor’s mane.

They practiced circles and serpentines together, and Alastair grinned over at her.

“This is how we start the recruits on horseback. I feel eighteen again. Do you think we might trot today, Sergeant Merrick?”