Chapter 25 #2
“With a groom nearby,” she said calmly. “She expressed an interest in seeing the horses.”
That was unexpected.
“Thank you.”
He turned at once toward the rear entrance that led across the courtyard. The evening air greeted him as he stepped outside, cooler now that the sun had nearly disappeared. The stables stood beyond the gravel path, lanterns already lit along the wooden beams.
The scent of hay and leather drifted outward.
Nathaniel slowed as he approached the open doors.
Margaret stood a few paces inside, one gloved hand resting lightly against the wooden partition of a stall.
A large bay horse shifted behind the gate, its ears flicking toward her voice as she spoke quietly with one of the grooms.
Nathaniel paused for a moment before announcing himself. She turned slightly as he stepped into the lantern light. The groom bowed quickly and withdrew to the far end of the stable. Nathaniel approached slowly.
“I was told I might find you here.”
“I wished to see them.”
He followed her gaze toward the horse.
“You keep fine animals,” she said.
“I am particular about them.”
Margaret gave a small, thoughtful nod. The horse snorted softly, stamping one hoof against the straw. Margaret’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly.
Nathaniel noticed.
“You stand rather far from him,” he observed.
“I believe that is wise.”
“Do you dislike horses?”
“I would not say that.”
She allowed a faint smile.
“They are temperamental, that is all.”
Nathaniel rested his arms lightly on the stall gate. The horse nudged toward him immediately, recognizing him.
“He is well trained.”
“I do not doubt it.”
Margaret remained where she was, though her eyes followed the horse’s movements carefully.
“Even so,” she continued, “I prefer not to test their patience.”
“They can sense hesitation.”
“Precisely.”
The horse flicked its ears again and shifted closer to Nathaniel’s hand. Margaret watched the interaction with interest and a hint of unease.
“They are large,” she said after a moment. “Strong, and unpredictable too.”
Nathaniel stroked the horse’s neck absently.
“That is part of their nature.”
“Yes. That is precisely my point. I grew up near a farm, and I know because of that that some horses do not concern themselves with elegance.”
Nathaniel’s mouth curved faintly.
“They can be persuaded.”
“So can people,” she replied.
He studied her expression.
“They will not harm you if approached properly.”
Margaret rested her hand lightly along the wooden rail of the stall, still leaving several feet between herself and the animal.
“You trust them more than I do.”
“I suppose that is because I understand them. I must say that it is strange that you are cautious around creatures you consider temperamental.”
“Why?”
“Because you are not cautious around me.”
Margaret looked at him then, surprise flickering briefly across her face.
“That is a curious comparison.”
“Is it?”
She considered the horse again before answering.
“Horses kick.”
Nathaniel almost smiled.
“I am capable of unpleasant behavior as well.”
“Of course. You are a man.”
“And yet you speak to me without hesitation.”
Margaret’s gaze returned to his.
“You have never struck me as unpredictable. In fact, that is the very last word that I would describe you with.”
Nathaniel leaned slightly against the stall gate.
“And you are not afraid of me.”
“No.”
The answer came easily.bNathaniel regarded her carefully.
“Why not?”
Margaret tilted her head slightly, considering the question with more seriousness than he expected.
“Horses cannot explain themselves,” she said at last. “You can.”
Nathaniel did not answer her immediately.
The stable had grown quieter. Somewhere outside, a night bird called across the fields, and the horses shifted softly in their stalls, the muted sounds of hooves against straw echoing through the long wooden aisle.
Margaret remained where she was, one hand resting on the rail, watching him with the calm patience he had begun to recognize in her.
Nathaniel turned his attention back to the horse, letting his hand move slowly along the animal’s neck while his thoughts shifted inward. It struck him, with uncomfortable clarity, that Margaret had just offered him something he had not expected from anyone in a very long time.
Trust.
Not the polite trust society extended to his title, and not the careful deference servants gave a master of the house. She believed he would tell the truth if it mattered.
For most of his life, explanations had been a luxury he did not allow himself. Decisions were made quickly, burdens carried alone, and silence had often been the best shield.
His patterns had protected Eliza. They had protected Margaret when the scandal first threatened her. Silence had solved more problems than honesty ever could.
Yet Margaret did not seem to fear what he might hide. She feared horses because they could act without warning, without reason that could be understood or negotiated. With him, she assumed reason existed, that he would speak if something mattered enough.
Nathaniel had not realized until that moment how rare such faith was. It unsettled him more than his anger had earlier that afternoon, because trust, once given, carried expectation. And expectation led easily into the territory he had sworn to avoid.
Attachment.
He had promised himself distance. It protected everyone, and it prevented mistakes that could not be undone.
Yet standing in the dim stable beside a woman who believed he would always explain himself, Nathaniel felt the first quiet fracture in that certainty.
And he was not entirely certain he wished to repair it.