Chapter Nine
Oliver patted his trusty mount on the shoulder before sliding out of the saddle and onto the road in front of the Childs’ townhouse.
After their late night at the ball, everyone had overslept and missed church that morning.
But he’d awoken to find a sunny day with only a few clouds in the sky, and he meant to make use of it.
Kitty’s words the night before about how she enjoyed horses, but her mother did not, had repeated through his mind. Though it could have been an offhand comment, he believed she was sending him a message. A way to spend time together without her overbearing mother.
So Oliver had sent a note and then made arrangements with his uncle to borrow a mare and a groom. He would much rather ride across Grant’s back meadows than trot through Hyde Park. But the overcrowded park was his best option at present.
When the footman allowed him entry into the townhouse, he found mother and daughter waiting for him in the drawing room.
The latter dressed in a beautiful green riding habit that made her eyes shine.
Oliver forced himself to pull away his gaze and address her mother.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Childs. Are you quite certain you will not join us?”
“I’m afraid my riding days are long behind me, young man,” Mrs. Childs replied.
Though she feigned a smile, he could hear the underlying tension in her voice.
Given her need for attention, she was likely perturbed that they’d found a way to escape her company.
“I do hope you’ve brought an appropriate chaperone. ”
“My uncle was kind enough to lend me the use of a groom, as well as a mare for Miss Childs,” Oliver replied before turning to his companion for the morning. “He is waiting outside with our mounts, if you are ready.”
“I am.” Miss Childs stood and smoothed her skirts.
Moments later, they stepped out of the front door. When Kitty spotted the horses, she pulled up short and mumbled, “Oh, she’s a beauty.” She then walked slowly towards her borrowed horse, approaching its shoulder at an angle before holding out her hand for the mare to sniff.
Oliver swallowed hard as he watched Kitty patiently wait for the horse to get comfortable with her smell before leaning in to whisper greetings while she gently petted its neck and withers. He could never remember having seen such a beautiful sight.
“Shall we?” Kitty asked after several minutes of making friends with her mount.
After giving her a leg up into her saddle, Oliver climbed onto his own and they set off at a walk down the street. “You clearly love horses.”
“I always have.” She gave the mare another pat on the shoulder before adjusting in her side-saddle. “I’ve been riding as long as I can remember. First in front of my father, then on ponies, before finally graduating to riding my own mount.”
“If you love horses so much, why do you not have one of your own?” Oliver asked before he could think better of it.
She stared forward for several seconds before answering. “I do.” After another pause, she explained, “Her name is Miranda, and she was a gift from my father for my fifteenth birthday.”
The Shakespearean name brought a smile to Oliver’s lips. “Where is Miranda now?”
“At my father’s estate.” She let out a deep sigh before correcting herself.
“My cousin’s estate.” They rode on in silence for a time before she continued.
“My father could do nothing about the entail, so he spent years carefully investing funds to take care of myself and my mother. But everything else went to his nephew.”
“And your cousin would not allow you to take your horse?” Oliver’s opinion of the man could not be much lower.
She shook her head. “My mother did not want to bother with extra horses in London. So my cousin is holding her for me until I have a place for her.”
Oliver thought his opinion of Mrs. Childs could go no lower, but he had been wrong.
Kitty rode with a comfort and skill that could not be denied.
It was as if she’d been born on horseback, and he felt a sudden and deep desire to reunite Kitty with her beloved mount.
He was not sure how, but he would find a way.
“And you?”
It took a moment for Oliver to register her question. “And me?”
“Was there ever a time that you did not love horses?” she asked as they approached the Grosvenor Gate that led into Hyde Park.
“Once,” Oliver admitted as they crossed through the open gate. “About three years ago.” He then signaled his horse to increase from a walk to a trot.
Kitty did the same before commenting, “I sense a story.”
“My father died in a riding accident while returning home during a storm.” Oliver forced the words out. He still hated thinking about, much less speaking of, that awful night.
They covered twenty yards before Kitty replied, her voice choked with emotion. “I’m so sorry. How did you ever get back in the saddle?”
“Tim and Nat convinced me that my father would not want me to give up something I love,” Oliver explained through a scratch in his own throat. “Though I still prefer not to ride at night or in bad weather.”
“Probably wise,” Kitty noted before asking, “Will you tell me about him?”
“He was a lot like me,” Oliver admitted.
He went on to tell her about reading in the library at his father’s feet, of walking the paths of Blackthorne Park, and riding through the fields.
The more he talked, the more he wanted to talk.
He hadn’t spoken so much of his father in a very long time.
Kitty asked questions from time to time, but she mostly just listened.
After riding nearly halfway around the perimeter of Hyde Park, Oliver asked, “Do you mind my asking about your father? When did you lose him?”
“He passed just after I turned eighteen.” Her voice sounded firm, but he could hear the sadness in it. “A weak heart. We knew it was coming, but it still felt unbelievable.”
“I’m not sure which is worse: for it to be expected, or to be shocked,” Oliver admitted. He’d often wondered if losing his father would have been easier if he’d seen it coming. Somehow, he doubted it.
Kitty put her face to the sky, as if enjoying the warmth of the sun on her cheeks. “Both are worse.”
“What is your favorite memory of your father?” Oliver asked, before amending, “besides horses.”
Kitty turned and offered him a broad smile. “Cricket.”
Oliver let out an unexpected laugh. “Cricket?”
She raised a single brow. “Do you disapprove of girls playing cricket?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. I’ve played many times with Arabella. I even dragged my younger sister out a time or two.” There were few boys of his age in the neighborhood, and so he and Tim would play with anyone willing to play. “Do you still play?”
She tipped her head and gave him an incredulous look, as if to say, “Have you met my mother?” She then encouraged her horse into a gallop before calling out, “Race you to the fence.”
Oliver took a few moments to register her actions and follow suit. There was not enough open space for a true run, but he still reveled in his chance to chase the lovely horsewoman across Hyde Park.
Just after the clock struck twelve, a messenger arrived at Kitty’s townhouse.
For a brief moment, she’d hoped for a note from Oliver Linfield.
She’d not seen or heard from the man since they’d gone riding in Hyde Park on Sunday afternoon.
Granted, it had only been two days. But she still felt a pang of disappointment when the footman, Edwin, held the silver platter in front of Mrs. Childs.
“What is it, Mother?” Kitty asked, closing her book and setting it in her lap.
Her mother pressed her lips together before setting down the note and picking it up again. “Lady Boxwood apologizes for the late notice, but she would appreciate my company at another aid society meeting this afternoon.”
Kitty could almost see her mother’s mind working through her options.
She did not want to go; of that Kitty was certain.
The last meeting had been all business and no gossip.
But neither did she wish to deny a dowager marchioness, not when the woman could be a door to greater social connections.
Kitty needed to encourage her mother’s attendance, at least if she wanted any hope of learning why Lady Sampson was scheming again.
“You should go, Mother. Did you not meet a baroness and a viscountess at the last meeting?”
As her mother was getting ready to leave an hour later, another message arrived. Kitty suppressed a groan. Could Lady Sampson not have waited a quarter hour more, to make sure the coast was clear? But when Kitty opened the missive, she discovered it was not from the baroness, but from Arabella.
I would be very pleased if you would join me for a shopping trip this afternoon. If you find the plan acceptable, I will arrive at half-past two.
All the best,
Arabella
P.S. Wear sturdy shoes and a gown that is easy to move in.
Where on earth were they going shopping?
“What is it, Catherine?” Her mother echoed her question from earlier.
“Mrs. Linfield, the vicar’s wife, has asked me to go shopping with her.”
“Just her?”
Kitty folded the paper, hoping she would not have to produce it. “She did not mention anyone else.”
“Hmm,” her mother murmured before instructing her to be on her best behavior, and then she scurried out the door. If she hurried, she would still make it to Lady Boxwood’s on time.
At precisely half-past two, Arabella arrived to find Kitty had already changed into half-boots and a comfortable gown. It was not her most comfortable, but it was the best she could wear in public without finding herself in the suds were her mother to see her.