Chapter 8
Roderick was sitting across from the duchess at the breakfast table.
This was not their first breakfast. It was, in fact, their fourth.
The duchess’ friend and appointed chaperone, Miss Honora Cavendish, sat in the seat between the two of them.
The tension in the room was suffocating.
The only sounds belonged to butter being scraped against toast and the popping of the firewood in the grate behind them.
Miss Cavendish was looking between them as if she was watching a shuttlecock game.
She did not seem nearly as affected by the silence in the room as the duchess and Roderick appeared to be.
The duchess was sipping her tea, reading her letters, and reviewing different correspondence.
Roderick found his gaze drifting to her hands as she turned the pages.
Steady, unhurried, betraying nothing of whatever had happened in the past few days.
He envied her composure. Even when he should have been settling into what was meant to be his home, it still felt odd.
Like a shoe that was just one size too big.
Eventually, he would have to force it to work.
Until then, all he could do was sit in discomfort.
“It is such a lovely day today,” Miss Cavendish said.
“It is,” the duchess replied.
“Have you considered going for a walk?”
“I have.”
“Did you go for your usual ride this morning?” That caught Roderick’s attention. He had not been able to ride in some time, and he had not even considered the stables there.
“I did,” the duchess replied absently. Roderick saw his chance and cleared his throat.
“Your Grace,” Roderick said calmly. Her teacup paused halfway to her mouth, and she regarded him coolly.
“Yes, Mr. Vale?” she asked.
“Would I be allowed use of one of the horses in the stables? I wish to go riding. Riding clears my mind, and I have gone too long without it.”
She set her cup down slowly. Her expression flickered to annoyance momentarily, but she recovered, looking more calm..
“The stables are well stocked,” she said. “You may take your pick of any of them. Aside from the gray mare. She is my personal horse.”
“I understand,” he nodded. His shoulders relaxed as he imagined being able to ride again, the wind whipping through his hair, the speed of the horse underneath him.
“There is one other condition,” she added quickly.
“You enjoy adding additional conditions,” he said as his heart sank.
“I ride every morning, at dawn,” she continued, as if he had not spoken. “I would prefer not to encounter you on my route.”
He raised an eyebrow and glanced at Miss Cavendish. She looked down at her toast, as if it would give her the answers to some question she chose not to speak aloud. He looked back at the duchess.
“Surely the estate is large enough that should not be a problem and we can avoid each other on horseback as well as we do on foot?” he suggested.
A snort came from his side. He glanced at Miss Cavendish who was eating her toast enthusiastically to hide a laugh.
Roderick looked between the two women, completely lost.
He felt that there was some secret language he was not understanding, and it was not often that he was so completely confused.
The duchess let out a huff and then looked back down at her letters.
Roderick sat there another moment, turning the exchange over in his mind.
He was not unused to reading or understanding people, he had run a business after all.
But no matter the amount of effort he put in, he could not read the duchess.
She had backed him into a corner he had no idea existed. He glanced once more at Miss Cavendish, hoping for some mercy in the form of an explanation. None came. She simply reached for the jam, the corner of her mouth still twitching suspiciously.
When breakfast had completed, Roderick decided it would be better if he was not seen or heard. He went toward the stables and walked through the different stalls, looking at the condition of the horses.
Well, at least the horses are all well looked after here.
Roderick looked around, taking in the size of the stable and the amenities.
It would not harm anyone to expand the stables…
He ran a hand along the nearest stall door, noting the oak paneling, the fresh straw, and the way that even the older horses’ coats gleamed with proper care. Whoever managed the stable knew what they were doing. He began doing the arithmetic in his mind without meaning to.
How many additional stalls the eastern wall could accommodate, what it would cost to bring his own horses to the estate, and whether the duchess’ stable master might be persuaded to take on two more hands come spring.
It was old habit. A reflexive calculation born from knowing that Oswin and Millicent would be relying on him.
He could even set up a proper riding area in one of the fields outside of the estate.
There were several that were just grass and appeared to have gone to seed at some point.
Perfect for horse riding. It was a strange thing, doing sums in a stable that did not necessarily need them.
Every stall was full. Each horse had a glossy coat.
All of the horses were fed better than he had eaten in some months.
He was not used to counting money he did not have to save.
He smiled as he looked at more of the horses. He would not, of course, get rid of any of the horses already there. He would allow the duchess to keep her own horse, of course.
Perhaps she would wish to stable it here.
He shook his head. He did not wish to think of her as a business opportunity when he would potentially send her away.
He sighed and walked toward the back of the stables.
Roderick glanced up and his eyes widened.
In front of him was a black gelding with spirited eyes.
The gelding snorted at him and leaned down, as if inspecting an annoyance rather than a potential rider. Roderick let out a laugh.
“You are magnificent,” Roderick murmured, inspecting the horse. The gelding straightened and raised his head as if enjoying the praise. “If you ride as well as you look, you will be an absolute joy…”
“Tha’ ‘e is!” a strong voice called. The gelding let out an annoyed snort as the stable master appeared at Roderick’s side. “The duchess ‘as not ridden ‘im because she prefers ‘er own horse. But the lads ‘ho ‘ave ridden ‘im ‘ave enjoyed ‘im immensely.”
“That is good to know,” Roderick said, smiling.
“I can ‘ave ‘im saddled up and ready for you if you wish,” the stablemaster offered.
“That would be excellent, thank you,” Roderick nodded.
“Aye sir,” the stablemaster said, taking the gelding out of his stall and starting to saddle him up. “You’re the lad staying with ‘er Grace are ye not?”
“I am,” Roderick said, bracing.
“I see,” the stablemaster said. “She’s a fine ‘orsewoman. She’s fearless. Rides in all weather. Takes jumps that make most men balk. I dare say there ain’t no be’er ‘orsewoman in th’ area. Took a fence that near gave the vicar a fit of apoplexy!”
He laughed. “Broken gate, four foot if it were an inch taller, and her not even slowin’ for it.” He grinned and glanced sideways at Roderick, as if gauging how much more he ought to offer a near-stranger. “Anyway. You’ll find ‘im a fine ride, sir.”
“I see,” Roderick said, listening carefully. “Thank you.”
I shall have to see one day if the duchess is as good a rider as he says..
***
Roderick woke up the next morning as the sun was just about to rise, golden slivers of light creeping into the room. He had intended to wake up at dawn, just so he could comply with the duchess’ request not to see him as he rode.
Roderick sat up and rubbed his eyes, grit still at the corners. He stretched, pulled himself out of bed and reached for his clothes. Adjusting his dark britches and shrugging into his dark green riding jacket, he managed to leave his chambers within minutes. The estate was so quiet at that hour.
It seemed as though only himself and the cook were awake. The smell of baking bread wafted through the hall past the kitchen. Roderick stepped out the back door and took a deep breath. The cold air chilled his lungs, making him feel more awake and alive. The dew stuck to the grass and his boots.
Mist clung low over the fields, silvering the hedgerows, and somewhere far off toward the tree line, a lark had already begun its morning song. Roderick took it all in. The wet earth. The woodsmoke drifting faintly from the kitchen. The earthy smell that came from being surrounded by nature.
The dew would burn away within hours, the estate would be abuzz with activity, and the duchess would probably be her typical cold self. That did not matter yet. What mattered to him was getting to that gelding and riding around the estate that could one day be his home.
The gelding snorted as he entered the stables. Roderick smiled and patted its muzzle before bridling and saddling it.
“You will make for an excellent ride,” he murmured to the horse. The proud gelding snorted, as if in response. Roderick could not help but laugh at that. “Full of fire still. Come along.”
The pair rode out of the stables, down toward the fields surrounding the estate.
Roderick had been aware that those fields existed.
It was the only way it made sense that his mother could have lived on the property without being noticed by the staff..
He was not specifically looking for the cottage.
He did not think he could stomach looking at it that morning.
But if he found it, he would look anyway.
He knew himself well enough to know that his curiosity would not allow him to ignore it.
A sudden whinny caught his attention. It was not from his gelding.
His eyes refocused and landed on the duchess.
She was at the opposite end of the large field, appearing to not have seen him yet.
She was galloping as fast as her horse would let her.
Her hair had not been pinned yet, flying behind her in the wind. Her eyes were focused, full of fire.
Her posture was nothing like the stiff one she held in the dining room.
It moved with the horse. Fluid. Free. He watched, mesmerized, as she took the mare over a low stone wall without so much as a check in her stride, landing clean, already leaning into the next stretch of open field.
It was as if there had been no jump at all.
The mare’s hooves struck the earth in a rhythm he could feel in his own chest, and for one suspended moment before the wall, horse and rider seemed to hang weightless against the pale morning sky.
She laughed as they landed. A real laugh.
One the wind snatched away before it could reach him in its full glory.
Something in Roderick’s chest squeezed hard. She was not afraid; there was none of the careful, measured control she normally shielded herself with. Out there, she rode as if the ground itself was destined to obey her. He had never seen anyone race like that, let alone a woman.
The sight alone was enough to make his heart thud in time with the steps of her horse.
The stablemaster’s words from the day before circled in his head.
He wondered what she carried that required such a violent release.
He knew that his father had been cruel, but he had died too soon for the full effect of his menace to affect her.
That is not a woman who has been confined. That is a woman who has found freedom…
He looked away quickly and flicked the reins on the gelding, urging it to move away from the duchess. The horse was slow to move, as if he too had seen something extraordinary.
If she sees us, I will never hear the end of it.
Eventually, the gelding moved, and they walked toward a wooded area where they wouldn’t be seen. Roderick glanced over his shoulder one last time at the duchess.
Freedom… I understand that feeling all too well…
He shook his head. He could not allow himself to dwell on those thoughts.
She was not just a woman; she was a living obstacle, stopping him from obtaining everything that his beast of a father should have granted him from birth.
It was not her fault, of course. Like him, her existence was a strain on someone else.
Even if she was an intriguing woman, a mystery, a fierce rider…
Roderick frowned. He was not used to thinking of anyone in that way, and yet the duchess had forced her way into his mind. He sighed.
I am not here to look after her… I am here to claim my inheritance and to save my family from ruin. She is just someone standing between me and what I need.
No more distractions. She does not welcome my attention. She knows what I am here for…
He continued to pass along the tree line, his gut twisting as he thought about what he was to her. He was not a man who had been hurt by the same beast she had been hurt by. He was the man who was dismantling her life, piece by piece.
He hated being the monster in her life.