Chapter 13 #2
“Come,” he said. “We will ride out.”
She followed him through the gate and onto the open path beyond the yard. The horse’s stride lengthened, and she adjusted her balance, still learning the rhythm. She felt a bit unsteady, but she managed to keep pace beside him.
As they rode through the countryside, the silence between them grew heavy.
He means to say something, she thought, staring straight ahead. I can feel it. What is it? Is he going to send me away? Or is it something else entirely, something I am not ready to hear?
Both possibilities made her chest feel tight. No matter how much she wanted to break the silence, she could not summon her usual enthusiasm, nor her easy chatter. He remained quiet as well, riding beside her with a tension she could feel even without looking at him.
They rode until the trees thinned and the path opened. Only then did he speak.
“My brother,” he said, his voice low and his eyes fixed ahead, “married a commoner.”
Cecily blinked, startled by the abruptness.
“Our father was against it. The entire noble circle was against it.” His jaw tightened. “I did nothing. I could not defend him. I could not agree with my father either. So I froze.”
He took in a slow, deep breath.
“My brother married her anyway. Father disowned him. And I … I did not speak to him for years.” His voice dropped. “He died before I could make it right. I keep thinking that if I had acted sooner, I might have been able to change his outcome.”
Cecily sensed his pain as she blinked away tears.
Do not speak yet. Let him finish.
After a few moments of silence, he continued, “Marriage between nobles and commoners is a complicated business.”
The implications lingered between them, unspoken but unmistakable, and neither made any attempt to put the moment into words.
“Love is simpler than we make it to be,” she said at last, her voice quiet.
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She looked away, searching for a safer subject.
“I understand grief,” she said. “After my father died, everything fell apart. His debts ruined us, and the business collapsed. And I kept thinking that if I had been successful sooner, and if I had earned enough as a pianist, I might have saved him.”
The horse beneath her shifted, and she steadied herself.
“I know what it is to feel responsible for something you could not change,” she said softly.
She did not look at him. She didn’t trust what she might see in his eyes.
She heard him take a deep breath as if he was about to speak, but a sudden crack of thunder tore through the air before he managed a single word.
Rain followed at once, a cold rush sweeping across the hills and spilling over them in a hard, startling sheet.
Cecily gasped as the first icy drops struck, and her horse jolted beneath her, forcing her to tighten her grip on the reins.
“Dismount,” the earl said firmly, already standing on the ground.
She tried, truly tried, but her foot caught in the stirrup and her balance wavered.
He stepped in at once, taking hold of her bridle to steady the horse while offering his other hand for her to grasp.
With his support, she managed to swing her leg free, though the effort left her gasping for breath.
The rain had already soaked them both through, plastering her hair to her cheeks and making her dress heavy against her skin.
“This way,” he said, guiding her toward a copse of trees.
They huddled beneath the branches, but the storm drove straight through the canopy. Water slid from above in steady lines that struck her shoulders and arms, cold enough to make her flinch. Cecily shivered violently.
Without a word, he shrugged off his overcoat and wrapped it around her shoulders.
He drew the lapels together, and she felt his warmth even through the drenched fabric.
Another shiver ran through her, and he pulled her closer.
One arm rested behind her back, the other settled at her waist. She didn’t resist. They stood pressed together beneath the trembling branches, the rain pooling around their boots, neither speaking.
When the storm finally eased, they stepped apart with a quiet reluctance and moved back toward their horses.
The branches above them still shook with the last drops, and the ground felt soft beneath their boots as they walked.
He checked her horse first, running a steady hand along its neck to calm the lingering tension before helping her place her foot in the stirrup.
She gathered the reins and pulled herself up, the earl’s coat still heavy on her shoulders, then watched as he mounted easily.
They set off at a slow pace, the air cool and dripping around them, and the house came into view through the thinning curtain of rain.
Cecily’s clothes clung to her, the earl’s coat wrapped close around her, and they rode in silence for several minutes before he finally spoke.
“There will be a gathering,” he said. “A large one, full of the local nobility. It is time I re-enter society.”
Cecily nodded. “That seems wise.”
He continued, “There will also be a recital.”
“A recital?” she asked, looking over at him sharply.
“Yes. In a month.”
“A month is not very long to prepare the children for something so formal,” she said. “They have made progress, but it will take discipline to bring them to that level.”
“They will be ready,” he said. “I want them to make their mark and to be reintroduced to the nobility with distinction.” He slowed his horse slightly, as if choosing his next words with care. “It is a great responsibility I am entrusting you with, Miss Marwood.”
Cecily inhaled sharply and steadied herself in the saddle, the reins damp beneath her fingers. “Then they will be ready, My Lord.”
The earl gave a single, quiet nod, the matter settled between them.
Yet something in his manner did not return to its usual reserve.
He kept his pace matched to hers and was close enough that she could sense his intention behind it.
He did not speak again, but the silence between them was different than before.
The house came into view through the trees, its windows catching the last of the light. As they headed towards the gates, Cecily recognized that something had changed between them and that their conversation had crossed into an area neither had intended.
Whatever followed would need to be faced.