Chapter Eleven
As promised, Hugh arranged for Christiana to visit the stables with him the next morning to choose her mount.
The stables were large and airy, sunshine streaming through the windows and sending dust motes from the straw dancing in the air.
Christiana passed along the stalls, greeting each horse as it came to sniff at her hands and offering them small pieces of apple.
Hugh followed behind, his hands tucked behind his back and his demeanor relaxed. Remarkably patient for a man whose mind seemed constantly occupied with his duties and the obligations of his station.
Compared to her father, he seemed like an entirely different breed of man. How both could have been born of women, she didn’t know.
“Were the stables affected by the fire?” she asked as she stroked the velvety nose of a horse named Bran. He was a sooty gray, with a light mane and intelligent, liquid eyes.
“No,” the duke answered. “We were fortunate in that respect. The fire largely gutted the east wing.”
Where the bedrooms were. Christiana’s hand stilled on Bran’s nose, and he whickered at her, quietly demanding more apple. She smiled as she offered it to him, and he crunched it happily.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “How did it start?”
“A knocked candle. Easily enough.”
Such a small thing had sparked such a tragedy.
The hard edge to his tone told her he had reached the end of his patience for such questions, so she allowed the subject to drop. Briefly, she thought about her conversation with Amelia the previous evening.
Seduction.
If there was one thing of which Christiana was perfectly certain she would not be capable, it was seduction. No gentleman had ever viewed her as an object of desire, and she had never wished to be.
Besides, it was all very well to think that she and Hugh would fall in love purely by dint of being married, but Christiana knew better. Love was not convenient—if it were, Laura would not be contemplating scandal and alienation with her groom.
Still, as Hugh’s brown gaze swept across her horse, she could not help looking him over again.
At her request, he had forgone the mask that morning, and she examined his face in the sunlight.
With his aquiline nose and strong jaw, he used to be remarkably handsome.
Even now, she found the sight of him oddly compelling.
This was all Amelia’s doing.
What did it matter if he had once been handsome? He had made it perfectly clear that they were not entering a marriage of that nature. Besides, even if she did think him attractive, that didn’t mean he thought her so.
She couldn’t let Amelia’s childish fantasies into her head.
His gloved hand joined hers on Bran’s nose. “If you would like him, then he’s yours. So long as you can ride him.”
The challenge sparked in her blood. It had been so long since she had last ridden, but she was confident she could manage this sweet-tempered beast.
“Let’s see,” she said. His fingers just brushed hers as she removed her hand. “If that suits you, that is.”
“It would do me good to go for the ride,” he said. “And after, I need to visit my tenants’ farms, anyway. We can take in the parkland along the way. I imagine it’s very different from your father’s estate.”
“Very,” she agreed. “Both in landscape and upkeep.”
Hugh ordered Bran and his horse—a big bay named Julius—be saddled in preparation.
“Bran was my father’s mount,” Hugh explained as they waited in the cobbled courtyard, the sun beating down on them.
His Hessians gleamed in the light. “He chose Bran himself shortly before he died but rarely had a chance to ride him.” He cast Christiana a long, assessing glance. “I expect he will be lively.”
“He looked as though he had a lovely temperament,” Christiana said, recalling the eager way the horse had snuffled at her. “Besides, my father’s horses were largely neglected, aside from when I rode them.”
“Bran is not accustomed to a woman,” the duke warned.
Christiana smiled at him. “Then I will ride astride.”
She enjoyed the way his eyes widened. Ought she delight in his overt shock as much as she did?
Perhaps not, but it was refreshing to know she still had some secrets.
“I learned to ride astride before I learned sidesaddle,” she explained.
“Admittedly, it’s less easy with a skirt, but I have no objections if you don’t. ”
His gaze flickered down to her legs, though there was little enough to see under her skirts. “My tenants might be a little scandalized, I fear.”
Her smile dropped. Of course. She was no longer a lady run wild on a dilapidated estate; she was a duchess. A fine lady. Fine ladies did not ride astride.
“If we were riding alone,” he said suddenly, stepping a little closer, his gaze fixed firmly on her face and no doubt at the disappointment on it, “I would have no objection to seeing you ride astride.”
“No matter how shocking?” She tilted her head. “Or what sort of example I’d be showing Amelia?”
“Given her aversion to riding, I doubt it could do much damage.” A small smile curled the undamaged side of his mouth. “And as for how shocking it may or may not be, I suppose I will withhold judgment until I see just how much of your leg is exposed.”
Permission granted, if in a roundabout fashion.
“You need not fear,” she said over her shoulder as a groom arrived, the two horses led behind him. “My mother assured me I do not have a shapely bone in my body. Even if my ankles were on display—and I will ensure they are not where anyone might see—I doubt they would turn any heads.”
As she reached her mount, strong hands clasped around her waist, and before she knew what was happening, Hugh had lifted her onto the horse. Out of instinct, she reached down to brace herself against his shoulders and found herself looking down into his face.
“Did your mother make a habit of saying such things to you?” he asked with such intensity, she felt her face burn.
“Oh, on occasion.” Often, in truth, but she could not quite bear admitting such a thing.
“She rarely paid me much attention. Where possible, she preferred to leave my rearing to the nurses. They were all kind, I assure you.” Until her mother had died and her father had gambled away all the money to pay them.
Finishing school had been an unexpected boon, her father’s winnings so large that he had become downright generous, choosing to pay the school to take her for three years rather than endure her at home.
She had hated the school and its teachers, but she had enjoyed being in London. More so, being able to escape into London.
Hugh stepped back, releasing her from his proximity, and Christiana inhaled sharply. The day was a fresh, bright one, and there was no reason to feel as though she had been trapped in a stuffy room with a raging fire.
None at all.
His gaze dropped to her ankles, which her dress had ridden up to reveal.
“Your mother was entirely mistaken,” Hugh said shortly as he swung into his saddle.
Astride, as all men could ride. Envy made a nest in her chest—so many things were easier for men, and they never so much as considered them privileges.
“If you were to have your legs on display in public, Chris, I assure you it would draw attention.” Then, as though to conceal the fact that he had said the words at all, he dug his heels into Julius’s side and trotted away.
Christiana stared after him, a little disbelieving. A spark of joy flared in her chest, and she doused it immediately. All he’d meant was that, as a duchess, people would notice if she were improperly attired. That was all.
That was all it could ever be.
And she would do well not to forget that.
To Hugh’s surprise, he found riding with Chris to be surprisingly pleasant. For starters, although Bran was a large horse, she rode him easily, giving him his head when he seemed overly impatient and holding him tightly in check when needed.
“I presume you spend a great deal of time on the estate?” she asked, looking around. He tried to see the land from her perspective—the parkland, reasonably well maintained, and the farmland beyond. All lush fields, some crops and many sheep.
“Not as much time as I’d like,” he answered. “I do a lot of work from my study.”
“With your steward?”
“He’s served the family and this land for a long time; he knows it far better than I ever could.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes on a distant copse of trees. “That can be a boon, but it can also be a hindrance.”
“In what sense?”
“The older a retainer, the more they remember all the ways in which things used to be done. We are living in a period of change and transition. There are new discoveries every day. Science has come further than ever, and we are learning more about the world than ever before.”
“Is that not true of every age?” he asked, intrigued despite himself. “Surely, that is the nature of advancement?”
“Well, for a great many years, we looked to the past for advancement and inspiration,” she said matter-of-factly. “You know, the ancient greats. Aristotle and the like.”
“You’re familiar with ancient philosophers?”
“And scientists. Aristotle did not merely philosophize; he made great scientific advancements. Our modern understanding of astronomy may never have reached this point if he, along with other ancient Greek thinkers, had not laid the groundwork.”
Hugh peered at his new wife. “And you are interested in astronomy?”
“Why would one not be?” She turned to face him, blinking owlishly, and released the reins to push her glasses up her nose.
“Consider the heavens—are we to live in ignorance for the rest of our lives? Should we ignore one of the greatest mysteries of our modern times, that of celestial bodies? The night sky has accompanied us since the dawn of time—is it not our duty as people to come to understand it?” She sighed, and he could not help wondering if he had inadvertently married a lady with far superior intellect than his own.
The thought did not plague him overmuch.
“The one thing I have always longed for beyond all others is a telescope. Papa promised me that one day I should have one if his winnings were good, but he instead sent me to school.” A wry smile pulled at her lips.
“I suppose I ought to have seen it coming; an accomplished daughter had something of value to offer, whereas an educated one could not have done. And he was right. Would you have married me if I had not attended finishing school?”
“Finishing school in and of itself was not the only reason I agreed to the marriage,” he said cautiously.
“No, but it implies accomplishments, which is a draw, given you intend for me to accompany your sister to London.”
He inhaled away the tightness in his chest. For all she was not a typical young lady, she had enough understanding of the world that he trusted she could fulfill that task.
“My primary reasoning is that I hope you will be able to comport yourself in Society. The precise nature of your abilities in music and watercolor hold no interest for me.”
“Ah,” Chris said laughingly, “so I must have the appearance of accomplishment without the necessity of being so.”
His shoulders sagged in relief that she had understood him. “Precisely.”
Before they could talk any more about accomplishments—or her lack thereof—a building came into view.
He was conscious of a slight feeling of disappointment.
“We’ve arrived at the farm,” he said. “Mr. and Mrs. Williams live here, as did Mr. Williams’s father before him.
The family has been here almost as long as mine, and they continue to rent more land and build on their forebears’ success. ”
“Do you know them well?”
“As well as I know any of my tenants,” he answered.
Which was to say, not well; after the fire, he had gone out of his way to avoid befriending anyone.
The less human contact, the better. He withdrew his mask and placed it over his head, the cool wood sliding against his skin as he tied the straps holding it in place.
Christana watched him with her mouth turned down, but she said nothing, and as he came to help her down from the horse, she slid down without his assistance. His hands tingled with the memory of catching her waist.
Foolishness. Just because he had not been with a woman since the fire. He had made his peace with it, but he had not considered that living in close confines with a woman—any woman—for a prolonged period of time might try his restraint.
Chris looked up at him, pupils flaring, and he stepped back, giving them both space. “It will be a short visit,” he said, turning his attention to the task at hand. “I rarely stay long.”
“So they have no chance to get to know you?” she asked, the tinge of condemnation in her voice.
“Precisely,” he said.