Chapter Six #2
She certainly was. The wind tugged at the curls peeking out of bonnet as if it was determined to release them. Her cheeks were pink from the cold. Her red velvet cape and bonnet were a stark and bright contrast to the snow-covered garden. If he had been an artist, he would paint this very picture.
Just then, she slipped on a patch of ice, and he caught her before she fell. He set her steady on her feet. “You must take my arm,” he said, delighted with the excuse. “I do not wish you to injure yourself.”
She nodded very prettily, looking up at him from underneath her red bonnet, and laid her hand upon his arm.
He really did not think there was a lovelier lady in all the world. It was a very funny thing to think, as she had a twin.
Nevertheless, it was so.
Pansy had wondered if Lord Smythesdon would call off the ride with Lord Burkhart to Pendleton Park.
She was certain Lord Burkhart would not be turned from the plan, but she could not set off alone with him.
She suspected Lord Smythesdon would not be enthusiastic about setting off in the cold and snow.
He had looked very sympathetically at Henry when the viscount had dragged him out in it to check on a fence that needed repair and might not hold up in the wind.
Therefore, she’d taken matters into her own hands before her brother-in-law could say a thing about it.
She expressed her utter delight to see that it snowed and claimed she liked it beyond anything.
That, and a nod from Violet in her husband’s direction, had defeated anything he’d been about to say of the canceling variety.
She’d worn her new riding habit of bottle green worsted wool with brass buttons and a matching top hat covered in green velvet with a matching satin bow in the back whose loose ends trailed in the wind when she rode.
As was a Chemsworth tradition, the habit had a train on either side so she might ride astride.
She thought she must look very well on Zephyr. She knew Lord Burkhart looked well.
He had been saddled on Olympus, a fine black gelding of sixteen hands who came with the sort of genial personality that got along with other horses.
He also did not mind it when he found an unknown person on his back, as he just liked to go places.
Lord Burkhart was entirely dashing, and she wondered if they looked a very fine match.
The groom placed the block and she mounted Zephyr. It was clear enough that Lord Burkhart was surprised. When the horses were led out, he’d not seemed to notice she used a regular saddle.
“I think I did not say I ride astride,” she said.
“Indeed not,” Lord Burkhart said.
“Well I hope you are not too very shocked. When my mother and father were first wed, my mother had an accident using a sidesaddle. My father burned it on the drive and banned them from the house forevermore. He is a very practical papa.”
“I see. That does make sense. I have been told that sidesaddles are comfortable and secure, but I have never thought they looked that way. I’ve never really understood how a lady keeps her seat over a fence in a sidesaddle.”
“I cannot make comment on it, as I’ve never tried it. Really, I cannot even imagine it. My brother’s wife has one, though she does not ride much and definitely does not take a fence.”
“It just goes to show, a thing being done one way does not mean there is not another more sensible way to go about it.”
Pansy was very approving of that idea. She said, “We will have to go a roundabout way to Pendleton Park. We cannot risk jumping fences, it might be slippery for the horses.”
“Thank heavens we are not jumping fences,” Lord Smythesdon said. “I would not like to repeat another riding accident at Chemsworth.”
“He broke his leg on The Turk,” Pansy said to Lord Burkhart, trying not to smile over that absurd situation brought on by drunken hubris. “You’ll know how it happened when you see that horse.”
“I’ll be most interested to have a look at him. Lead on, Miss Pansy.”
She really liked the way Lord Burkhart said her name. She could not exactly say why but it gave her a delicious little shiver. She was glad now that she had not taken on the appellation of Miss Granger. It was much better to hear him say her given name, as if they had long known one another.
Pansy turned Zephyr and they set off. The snow blew in all directions and her horse seemed delighted with it.
Pansy supposed because she’d not made it a habit of riding out in the snow and it would be something new.
Zephyr, unlike so many other horses, rarely got spooked and was always game to try something new.
The mare also adored going to Pendleton Park and would guess that was their destination by the general direction they were taking.
Pansy presumed Zephyr had made some horse friends in Marigold’s stables.
Lord Burkhart rode beside her and he sat a horse very well. Lord Smythesdon brought up the rear. Pansy could almost forget Lord Smythesdon was even there. They took things at an easy trot because really it would be tempting fate to let loose for a canter on slippery snow.
“Are you warm enough?” Lord Burkhart asked.
“No, but it is invigorating,” Pansy said. “We can warm up at Pendleton Park. Marigold’s cook will send up coffee, tea, and hot chocolate and sometimes he even puts small, warmed rolls with herbed butter on a tray. I absolutely adore them.”
“Cannot your own cook make them so you might have them more often?”
Pansy’s laughter rang out through the snowy air. “Heaven forbid I or anyone in my family were to suggest we had eaten something elsewhere that we liked. As far as Mr. Moreau is concerned, if we are not eating something he made, we are suffering.”
“I understand. Our own cook has a secret recipe for a fish pie that he guards with his life. Nobody has the heart to tell him nobody wants the recipe because it is dreadful. This has resulted in us having to eat it about once a month because, as my father says, we’ve left it too long. We cannot tell him now.”
“Oh dear, you are right. You cannot let him down now; it would be too heavy a blow.”
“We regularly have a family named the Kendricksons over to dine and as far as our cook knows it, Lady Elizabeth is allergic to fish. So at least it is not on the table for them.”
“Oh that was good thinking. An excuse that lives forever.”
“Just so.”
“Ahead we will cross that stream, it does not seem to be icy, but I will let Zephyr choose her footing and take her time.”
“I applaud the care you take of your horse.”
Pansy smiled. She glanced behind her and noted Lord Smythesdon looking rather miserable.
He was not enjoying the brisk wind and whipping snow as much as they were.
Or at least, he was not pretending to enjoy it as much as they were pretending.
The weather was positively dreadful, and Pansy would never have gone out in it if it were not for the chance to put on her new riding habit and ride out with Lord Burkhart.
Smythesdon gave her a weak smile that she thought was meant to be encouraging. Good old Smythesdon.
Zephyr picked her way across the stream and then they crossed a field that led to a path going through a wood.
That particular wood had been the location years ago where Marigold would accidentally encounter Mr. Weston.
They all knew now that he used to haunt the place until he spotted Marigold and then trot in as if it were just a coincidence.
As they entered the wood, they found far less snow on the ground, it being protected by the leaves and branches overhead. The wind was not as bracing either. The wood had a hushed feel, as if a whisper might sound like a shout.
“Well, it is not so bad in here,” Lord Smythesdon said, shaking the snow off his hat.
“Do not worry, brother-in-law,” Pansy said, “we will arrive to Pendleton Park in no time at all. We will park you in front of a fire with a hot coffee.”
They exited the wood at the other end, and it was indeed not so very far to Pendleton Park.
They came up the drive and found Marigold riding The Turk from a field toward the stables. As was The Turk’s habit, he was annoyed with all the world, nostrils flaring and wild eyed.
“Good God,” Lord Burkhart said.
“Now you see how I broke my leg,” Lord Smythesdon said. “His temperament is just as bad as it looks.”