Chapter Eighteen
Gerrit did not honestly expect his wife to be ready in a quarter of an hour and was surprised when she arrived with three minutes to spare.
“You did not think I could do it, did you?” she asked, smirking up at him and slapping her whip against her palm.
He felt a rare twinge of amusement at her challenging look. “No.”
She laughed and Gerrit tried not to enjoy the sound too much.
Burrell, his stable master, led Kathryn’s new mount into the courtyard, and Gerrit took the animal’s reins and presented the horse to his wife. “This is Robin, Your Grace.”
Kathryn’s eyes glowed as she approached the chestnut. “He is exquisite,” she cooed, offering her slender gloved hand to the fidgeting gelding.
Gerrit felt a burst of pleasure at her approval—almost enough to override his unease at having a chestnut horse in his stables.
Like his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather before him, Gerrit had always purchased Friesians and always in their traditional color of black.
But when he’d approached Burrell about a mount for Kathryn, the stablemaster had mentioned seeing a rare chestnut Friesian at the breeder Gerrit favored.
Gerrit had known upon sight that this was the horse for Kathryn.
Not only was Robin extraordinarily beautiful, but the gelding had a sweet temperament with a touch of mischief in his eyes. Perfect for his mistress.
It was just a shame the breeder had not had two chestnuts. He decided the pang of discomfort he felt owning just one chestnut was easily offset by his wife’s obvious pleasure. Of course that was a thought that also left him feeling uneasy. Since when did he care so much about her likes or dislikes?
Kathryn stroked and fussed over the animal and cut Gerrit a shy look. “I love him. Thank you. He has the most unusual reddish chestnut coat I have ever seen.”
Gerrit thought so, too. Indeed, with her standing beside the animal he was amazed at how similar in color the gelding’s long, rippling mane was to her lovely hair.
“The breeder said he has only ever seen two chestnut Friesians in all his years. Most are black, although you will see the occasional bay or gray.”
Her brilliant green eyes turned to him, softer than he’d ever seen them before. “Well, he certainly is lovely. Thank you,” she said again.
Any unease at having a sole chestnut horse in his stables—or wanting to please his wife—drained away at her obvious happiness at his gift.
“Come. I will help you mount,” he said, the strange emotions in his chest making him sound abrupt and causing her to flinch, her glorious eyes shuttering.
Damnation. Would he ever learn how to speak to her without uttering commands or snarling?
Gerrit slid his hands around her slender waist and easily lifted her into the saddle. While she fastened her train he lengthened the stirrup. “How is that?” he asked, looking up and meeting her now-cool gaze.
“Perhaps one more.”
He lowered the stirrup by another notch.
“That is good,” she said before he could ask.
He mounted Centurion and they rode in silence as they left the courtyard. Gerrit knew that he would need to be the one to speak first after he’d been so curt back at the stables.
Christ but he hated small talk.
He glanced at her. “Your seat is excellent.”
He’d not meant to sound condescending but judging by her slight smirk and the way her cool green gaze flickered over him he’d obviously failed.
Heat pooled in Gerrit’s groin—not a desirable reaction when one was astride a horse—as she studied him with a lingering thoroughness.
“As is yours,” she finally said, and then turned to face forward.
He snorted softly and adjusted himself. He deserved that.
Gerrit tried to think of something to say but his mind was infuriatingly blank.
After several moments of silence Katheryn saved him the bother by saying, “My sister is excessively fond of riding, and Chatham’s cousin, Andrew Derrick”—she cut him a quick, not so polished look— “breeds hunters and often brings them to Chatham Park for the three of us to ride.” She suddenly chuckled.
“Chatham has threatened to submit a bill to Andrew for all the free training.”
“Do you hunt?” he asked.
“Not as much as I would like, but—” She broke off.
“But?” he prodded.
She paused, but then said, “Chatham is generous, but I scarcely wanted to keep a string of hunters at his expense.”
Gerrit thought her impulse did her credit. “I will see you are well mounted when we go to Spenwood.”
“I did not mean to suggest—”
“You are my wife, Kathryn,” he said, once again sounding curt. Gerrit sighed. He needed to do better. “If hunting is something you enjoy then it would be my pleasure to mount you.”
Her delicate throat flexed, and a faint flush spread across her cheeks. “Thank you.”
Bloody hell but conversation was exhausting.
“Is it far to the water?” she asked.
“It takes half an hour.”
“Is that where we are going?”
“I thought today I would show you some of the estate. Specifically, there are a series of paths that will take you in a loop back to Briarly and make for a pleasant ride.”
“I would like that. Do I need to take a groom with me?”
He cut her a glance. “I would prefer it.”
“Even on your land?”
Gerrit frowned. What was she trying to say?
“I would rather ride alone—at least on the estate. I did so at Chatham Park and also at Wych House.”
Gerrit pondered her request. His father had permitted Amelia to ride without a groom. He supposed there was no danger on his own land. At least not until she was with child. He would reconsider the matter at that point.
He turned to find her waiting for him. “You may ride alone provided you exercise care.”
Her smile was blinding. “Thank you, Dulverton. I will be careful.”
He hastily turned away, his heart pounding uncomfortably hard. What on earth was the matter with him today?
“My family’s home is in Hampshire, and we were only half a day from the coast, but we only went one time, when I was very little.”
Gerrit slid a look at her and saw that she was facing forward. Was she expecting a response from him?
“I see,” he said.
It must have been an adequate answer because she went on, “We went to visit with my father’s younger sister, Lady Fitzroy.”
“Er, did you enjoy it?” he asked, genuinely curious.
She turned to him. “I did, very much.”
Gerrit could not look away. “I will take you to the beach.”
Once again, she smiled. “I would like that.”
He had no idea of what to say, so they rode in silence until they reached a fork in the path, and he led them to the left.
“Where does the other path lead?”
“It goes through Echo Forest to Briarly’s Dower House.”
“I did not know there was one. Is it occupied?”
“Yes.”
She flinched at his harsh tone, the open, happy expression on her face dimming.
“Mrs. St. Clare lives there.”
“Oh, the lady from the private box at church.”
“Correct.” Gerrit was not ashamed of Amelia, but he did not relish explaining her presence to his new wife. Especially not with his mother here. Once the dowager went home—soon, he hoped—Gerrit would attempt to explain his father’s arrangement with—
“What is that child doing?” Kathryn pointed to the pasture off to the right where he could see a blond head in the tall grass. “The poor thing is sobbing her heart out.” She reined in and awkwardly slid down from her horse.
“Kathryn, wait.” Gerrit quickly dismounted. “I will go see what is amiss. You stay—”
But she was already hurrying through the grass, leaving Gerrit to hold the horses.
***
“Why, what is the matter?” Katie asked, dropping to her haunches when the child—a tow-headed little girl—stared up at her with big pale blue eyes.
“Bobby and Davy weft me,” she said, her chin quivering.
“How dreadful of them. Are they your brothers?”
She nodded, lower lip thrust out.
“Brothers can be awful,” Katie said. “What is your name?”
“Susan.”
“That’s a pretty name. Where do you live?”
Susan pointed in the general direction of the path.
Katie held out a hand. “Why don’t you come with me, and I will take you home.”
Susan shook her head.
“I’ll let you ride on Robin. That’s my horse—the pretty copper one.” She pointed to Dulverton, who was leading the horses in their direction.
Susan’s eyes grew even larger. “I can wide on her?”
Katie bit back a grin at the girl’s adorable inability to say her r’s and l’s. “Robin is actually a boy horse, but yes, you may ride him. Just think of how your brothers will envy you.”
That was all the encouragement Susan needed.
Katie took her hand and led her toward Dulverton. “Her name is Susan, and she says she lives just around the curve. Her older brothers abandoned her. I told her we would take her home and she could ride Robin.”
“I know who she is and where she lives.” He looked down at the child, who gazed up at him, placidly chewing on her finger and clearly not afraid.
Katie smiled at the little girl. “Susan, this is the Duke of—”
But Susan dropped a creditable curtsey. “Good day, Your Gwace.”
Katie should not have been surprised; after all, Susan’s father must be Dulverton’s tenant.
“You should not be out here alone,” Dulverton said crisply. “I will speak to your brothers.”
Susan nodded solemnly and then pointed to Robin.
“No, you will ride with me.” He turned to Katie. “It would be too difficult for you to ride with her on that saddle. “Let me help you up.”
“I thought I’d lead Robin with her on his back.”
“It is too far to walk.” His big hands closed around Katie’s waist, and he lifted her into the saddle with ease, making her feel like a waif—when she most certainly was not—before turning to the little girl. “Come here, Susan.”
The child went to him eagerly and chortled happily when he lifted her into the saddle. Only after he’d swung up behind her did Katie realize they might be father and daughter. Not just their pale hair and light eyes, but also their strong, almost blunt, features.