Chapter 13
Cecily lifted her hand from the keys, stopping the exercise before the next measure could begin.
Amabel’s fingers had slipped again, barely forming a note before they faltered, trembling against the ivory.
The girl took a deep breath, trying to steady them, but the effort only made her shoulders sag.
Julian noticed it at the same moment Cecily did. He edged closer to his sister, hovering so protectively that his sleeve brushed hers. His eyes kept darting between Amabel’s pale face and Cecily’s, as though waiting for permission to step in.
“We should take a break,” Cecily said, keeping her voice gentle.
Amabel blinked hard, determined to continue, but her hands would not cooperate.
Cecily rose from the piano bench and crouched beside her.
She touched Amabel’s forearm lightly, feeling the faint tremor beneath her skin.
The child made an effort to sit straighter, wanting to show she could manage a little more, but her breath wavered, and her eyes dropped, the effort simply too much for her.
“That is enough for today,” Cecily said softly. “It has only been three days since your fever was declared gone, and you have insisted on doing lessons every day. You must not tire yourself.”
Julian nodded at once, relief loosening the tension in his shoulders. Amabel leaned toward him, her small frame sagging with the effort of simply sitting upright. Cecily watched the pair, Julian’s quiet vigilance and Amabel’s fragile determination, and felt a surge of emotion.
They had tried so hard to give her a normal lesson. She could not ask them for more.
“You should rest,” Cecily told her. “Your health is more important than your piano lessons.”
Amabel nodded, too tired to argue. Julian helped her down from the bench and kept a steadying hand at her back as he guided her toward the door. Cecily gathered her folio and followed them, ready to walk the children to their rooms and give Amabel a chance to rest.
They stepped into the hallway, the quiet of the schoolroom giving way to the softer sounds of the house. Julian slowed his pace so Amabel would not have to hurry, and Cecily stayed close behind, watching the girl’s small steps and the way she leaned slightly toward her brother.
A low throat-clearing sounded from ahead.
Julian stopped as Amabel lifted her head, and Cecily looked down the corridor.
Weatherby stood a few steps away, his hands folded neatly behind his back, his expression composed but intent as he waited for them to approach.
“Miss Marwood,” he said with a small bow. “His lordship requests an audience with you.”
Julian’s eyes widened, but Cecily gave him a reassuring nod. “Go on. I will come find you later.”
Weatherby led her through the quiet halls to the lounge.
Cecily stepped inside and stopped. She took in the room with a quick glance, noting the careful arrangement of the chairs and the faint scent of leather.
The space felt recently occupied, as if someone had been waiting.
She felt a brief uncertainty about why she had been summoned, but she kept her posture composed as she stepped farther inside.
The room was brighter than the corridor, warmed by the late afternoon light that filtered through the tall windows.
A fire had been laid but not yet lit, leaving the hearth cool and still.
The chairs had been arranged with careful order, as though someone had only just risen from them.
A riding crop rested on the side table, meticulously set down.
The faint scent of leather lingered in the air.
The earl stood near the window, dressed in riding gear, his back partly turned. He had one glove already pulled on and the other held loosely in his hand. He looked over his shoulder when he heard her enter, his expression unreadable as his gaze settled on her.
Weatherby stepped slightly forward. “My Lord, I have brought Miss Marwood.”
The earl dipped his head in acknowledgment.
She answered the look with a small nod, waiting for him to speak.
“We are going for a ride,” he said.
Cecily blinked. “A ride?”
“Yes.”
She waited for an explanation, but none came.
“My Lord, may I ask why?” she asked, her voice timid.
“No.” His tone was firm, but not unkind. “You may not.”
She stared at him, unsure what to make of any of it.
The request felt abrupt, and she searched his expression for any hint of explanation. Finding none, she reminded herself that questioning him further would serve no purpose. She gathered her thoughts and focused on the task before her. Whatever he intended, she would meet it with composure.
He gestured toward neatly folded riding clothes on the nearby chair. “Change into these. They should fit. Meet me outside when you are ready.”
Cecily looked from the clothes to him. “My Lord, I …”
He was already back to pulling on his gloves, his attention focused out the window.
“Outside, Miss Marwood.”
He did not look back as he left the room.
Her heart fluttered as she gathered the clothes in her arms. She still had no idea what he intended or why he wanted her with him, yet she found herself moving quickly all the same.
In her room, she laid the riding dress across the bed and changed.
The fabric was heavier than she usually wore.
The cut was practical rather than elegant, and the fitted bodice felt unfamiliar against her body.
She smoothed the skirt, testing its weight as she walked a few steps.
The boots were sturdy and a little stiff, and she felt taller and more confident in them, yet her pulse had still not returned to normal.
She checked her reflection only long enough to be sure she looked presentable, then gathered her gloves and stepped into the hall.
Outside, the path to the stables stretched ahead, sunlight catching on the gravel. She followed it, the unfamiliar weight of the riding dress brushing against her legs with each step. The air smelled of hay and dirt, and the low murmur of stable hands drifted from somewhere inside the yard.
As she got closer, the scene came into view.
A groom led a chestnut mare across the yard, its coat bright in the light.
Another man carried a saddle toward the open stable door.
And a short distance away stood the earl.
His posture was straight, and his attention was fixed on the horse prepared for her.
Cecily slowed. She felt a brief hesitation as she approached, unsure how he would receive her.
His attention seemed fixed on the horse, yet she sensed he was aware of her presence.
She adjusted her gloves, hoping her uncertainty did not show.
She reminded herself that she had been invited here and had no reason to feel out of place.
He turned at the sound of her steps, his eyes traveling over her riding dress. She managed a small nod in greeting, unsure whether she should approach at once or wait to be called forward.
He gave a slight gesture, inviting her closer.
Only then did she see the horse meant for her. It was a tall bay gelding with a dark mane and steady eyes, its ears flicking forward as she neared. The animal shifted its weight as its coat gleamed. The leather of the bridle had been polished to a soft shine.
Cecily had never been this close to a horse before. The size of it struck her first, then the warmth of its breath as it lowered its head toward her sleeve. Her hands trembled. She tried to hide it, but the earl noticed at once.
“Give me your hand,” he said.
She hesitated for a moment, then placed her hand in his.
He guided her toward the horse with steady, unhurried movements, his touch firm but careful.
When she still couldn’t quite bring herself to mount, he gently placed his hands at her waist and settled her into the saddle before she had time to protest.
Her heart pounded as the horse shifted beneath her, and she gripped the reins too tightly.
“You’re safe,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”
He taught her the basics of sitting, holding the reins, and signaling the horse to move. He spoke with quiet clarity, each instruction simple and direct.
“Sit tall. Good. Keep your weight centered,” the earl said, adjusting the angle of her shoulders with a brief touch. “Your hands belong here. The horse will follow steady guidance.”
She nodded at once, her attention fixed on every word.
She focused on the instructions, grateful for the clarity of his guidance.
Each correction helped her understand the horse’s movement a little more.
She wanted to show that she could learn quickly, not out of pride, but because she respected the trust he had placed in her by bringing her here.
“Try a light squeeze with your heel,” he said. “He will step forward when he understands you.”
She held her breath as she followed the instruction, and the gelding shifted into a slow, careful step.
The movement startled her, and she tightened her grip for a moment.
She steadied herself almost at once, settling her hands and adjusting her seat, determined to master this new activity.
The gelding took another gentle step, and she managed to stay balanced, her shoulders loosening just a little as she tried to show the earl she could manage it.
“Good,” he said. “Again. I will tell you when to stop,” he said.
She nodded, focused entirely on the lesson, though a small part of her could not help wondering why he had chosen to teach her at all.
Why would he bother with me? I only hope I do not disappoint him.
She circled the yard three times, each lap a little steadier than the last. By the third, her hands no longer trembled on the reins, and the animal moved with an easy rhythm beneath her. When she brought him back to the mounting block, the earl gave a small nod of approval.
He stepped to his own horse, mounted with accustomed ease, and guided the animal toward her side. The gelding shifted as he approached, but she kept her seat, proud that she did not startle this time.