Mr. Balham nodded. “I do, Miss Kingston. I have a few which might be of some use to you. I can send them to Split Tree.”
“That would be wonderful, thank you,” Kate said. Interesting, that. He knew where she came from. Had Peter been discussing her? Well, of course he had—she was his agricultural neighbor. What else would he discuss with his steward besides the land and what the neighbors were planning to do with theirs?
“We have just come from a horse auction ourselves,” Peter supplied. “They had the sweetest little docile mare, absolutely perfect for a new rider.”
“You don’t say,” Kate said flatly. “Perhaps you already purchased said mare and are planning to pawn it off on your neighbor?”
“Perhaps I have.” A smile tugged at Peter’s lips. “As I mentioned, it was an auction. The price was just too good to pass up.”
Kate was briefly struck by the handsome grin he sent her way but recovered rapidly. “You are serious then?”
He held her captive in his steel-blue eyes. “Yes.”
Kate did not know whether to tremble in fear or exclaim her gratitude. She had been wanting to learn, naturally, but this was coming together all too soon. Once she owned the horse, the next step would be actually getting on it. She swallowed a lump in her throat. It was not as if the beasts themselves scared her, but she was fearful of putting her trust in an animal that she did not know.
“You need not fear, as I said; this little mare is extremely docile. I was told she would be perfect for a child.”
“I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment, sir,” Kate said dryly. She hoped Peter could catch the glint of teasing in her eye.
“Then simply consider it good fortune,” Peter said, his voice becoming low and serious. “Surely we must appreciate the blessings which are placed in our paths.”
“You stump me there. I must not tease such a righteous opinion.”
“Sir Peter, how wonderful to see you!” a high-pitched voice called just down the street.
Kate turned to see the woman who had snubbed her in the store and irritation swept through her that the lady would feel it appropriate to approach her now. Even if she was directing her greetings to Peter.
“Miss Smithson, I hope this day finds you well,” Peter said as he dipped his head in a bow. His tone offered none of the levity it had previously held, but rather portrayed the Lord of the Manor role that he most likely took with subordinates. Kate was briefly stunned by the authority in his voice and manner but shook it off. “Do you have the pleasure of knowing Miss Kingston here?”
Miss Smithson flicked her gaze to Kate, her mouth forming a feline smile. “No, I am afraid we’ve yet to be introduced.” She dipped into a graceful curtsy which Kate replied in kind, before turning back to Peter.
Kate was only slightly gratified to note that Miss Smithson ignored Mr. Balham as well, but then scolded herself on her less than kind thoughts. Mr. Balham probably resented being cast aside quite as much as she did. Though judging by his contented expression, he was feeling no worse for the wear, currently.
“I received the invitation to dine at Evanslea, and I must say my sister and I are only too happy to accept.” She shot Peter a smile that revealed even, white teeth, and Kate hated her all the more. Running her tongue over her own slightly crooked front teeth, noting the jagged edge where they didn’t quite line up, she glanced to Peter, flushing hot when she caught him watching her.
Glancing over her shoulder to where Jane waited beside the carriage, Kate turned back to Peter and dipped in a preemptive curtsy. “My maid is waiting. I must be off. It was good to meet both of you,” she looked to Miss Smithson quickly before giving Mr. Balham a warm smile. “And I await your book recommendation, sir. I am only too eager to begin.”
Turning away before anyone had a chance to waylay her, Kate climbed swiftly into her carriage and tapped the roof the moment Jane was seated beside her. She blew out her frustration and wondered which was more unnerving—that Peter had caught her comparing herself to Miss Smithson, or that she cared.
18
Kate
Emily was thrilled the following Monday when Kate informed her that she would be learning to ride. Peter had cornered her in the churchyard following the service the previous day and asked when it would be a good time to bring her horse by, and she’d decided not to put off the inevitable. She had been wanting to ride over to the north pasture and look at the plot of land suggested to her for the orchard but had yet to make it. Mostly because she did not know how.
Instead, she had spent the last few days devouring the books sent over from Mr. Balham and corresponding with Mr. Cruikshank, the steward recommended by Peter. He was set to arrive within a week and begin the job on a trial period. Her butler had agreed that it would be safe to test the man’s methods in this way and see if he was a good fit for her personality and household. Not having a man in the house to answer to was very likely difficult for a lot of men, and Kate was concerned that Mr. Cruikshank would find this a trial as well.
After picking at her breakfast, she tried on the riding habit Emily had surprised her with. It was a deep forest green that set off the auburn highlights of her brown hair and warmed her skin tone considerably. She had been shocked when it had arrived with the remaining gowns that she had ordered in Larkfield, but Emily had been convinced Kate could be persuaded to learn now that she lived on so large an estate and had spoken with the modiste about it privately.
Now she was grateful Emily had had such foresight, for she would never have been able to fit in Emily’s habit and was glad to have her own.
When the door knocker sounded, Kate found herself rooted to the sofa. Her stomach did not hold much more than half a cup of tea and a few bites of toasted bread, since the more she thought about being on a horse, the more terrified she became. Emily loved her horse so much that she considered Josephine the daughter she did not have, and the horse had still dropped her twice since she had come to stay at Split Tree. Although, that was due to Emily’s lack of concentration, not Josephine’s. But still.
“Are you ready?” Peter said from the doorway. He looked taller in his riding attire than anything else, Kate decided, when she took in his full form. His golden-brown hair was still slightly damp at the neck, and his eyes were looking more blue today than gray—but piercing as ever.
“I do not know if I ever will be,” Kate responded. “Forgive me for my rudeness. I am finding myself very stuck to this cushion.”
Peter laughed, the sound loud and clear, which she responded to with a wry smile. “Must we do this today?”
“Yes.” Peter crossed the room and sat beside her. He took one of her hands in his own, warm and safe. “We will start small and walk circles in the paddock. The fence will remain closed, and your horse won’t be able to run off, I promise.”
Kate smiled, feeling warmed by his consideration. “What is her name?”
“That is for you to decide.” He patted her hand once before standing and pulling her up with him. “Now let’s be off.”
Kate followed, swinging her skirts over her left arm. Every step she took felt like she was trudging in deep mud, so reluctant she was to begin her lessons. She placed her hand on Peter’s elbow and let him guide her outside and to the paddock directly next to the stables. It was on the tip of her tongue to inquire about Martin—she would’ve liked for him to have joined them. Peter’s eyes positively shone as he gestured with pride to a beautiful, light brown mare with white spots under her belly and on her neck, a lady’s saddle fitted around her middle.
“She is beautiful!” Kate sized her up. “And not so very big, I think,” she finished.
Peter looked down at her and smiled. “You’ll see that she is just right for you, I think.”
Kate’s gaze was riveted to the beast, watching muscles bunch in the powerful thighs as the horse examined the paddock. “Thank you for letting me borrow a saddle.”
“It was found in your tac
k room,” he explained. “It is old, and you may need to order a new one if it does not fit right, but in the interim it should do the job well enough.”
Kate nodded, determination settling on her shoulders. “Let’s begin.”
Peter guided her into the paddock and toward the mare. Settling the beast with soothing words and a calming hand on the horse’s nose, he looked to Kate. “She is ready. Are you?”
“No, but I do not see how that makes the slightest difference.”
Peter’s low chuckle swept through her, and she closed the distance between herself and the side of the horse, resting her hand on the top of the saddle. She amended her earlier notion that the horse wasn’t overly large. She felt quite the opposite when standing right beside her. Begging the heavens for a measure of courage, Kate glanced at Peter over her shoulder. She held his gaze as he came around to help her up, and his eyes seemed to speak to her, to reassure her that he would not let her fall. And she believed him.
Bending forward, Peter laced his fingers to give Kate a foot up, and she placed her boot in the safety of his large hands.
“And, up,” he said, and with little warning, Kate was rising into the air until she made contact with the saddle. Hooking her leg around the pommel, she arranged her skirts over her legs and squeezed her knees together, feeling far more secure than she had anticipated. This was far more enjoyable than the last time she’d been on a horse.
His smile broad, Peter nodded approvingly. “Do you feel comfortable?”
“Yes,” Kate answered, surprise evident in her tone. “I feel as though this saddle was made for me.”
The lessons were slow moving. Kate made certain Peter was aware of her fears and he gently moved her forward a little at a time. He did not release the reins at all, and after a good deal of time gently walking around the paddock, he gave Kate the reins and instructed her on how to direct the horse. She was beginning to feel somewhat confident when Peter called the lessons to a halt, saying that Kate was progressing splendidly, and they should not push their luck for today.
They returned to the house for tea, and Kate insisted on paying Peter for the horse straight away.
“Have you chosen a name?” he asked.
“I must think on it still. This is my first time naming an animal, and I am determined to do right by her.”
Peter nodded. “The name will come to you.”
Kate was positive that he gave her a low number, but Peter insisted the horse was a steal and he had gotten her for a very good price. She let it slide eventually, determining that it was fruitless to argue, and paid the man what he asked. “I should add a good sum for your lessons too, I suppose,” she said after handing him the bank draft.
“My lessons are free, Kate. That is what we call being a good neighbor.”
“So you teach all of your neighbors to ride?” she asked teasingly.
“Only you and Mr. Brummel. But don’t tell the others.”
Kate had to laugh at the image of Peter teaching the eighty-year-old man that she had seen at church how to ride a horse. His back was stooped, and he relied heavily on his cane, which he used on Sundays to hit the floor when he felt that the children were being too rowdy during the service.
“Shall we resume tomorrow? Say, the same time?”
Kate was taken aback but recovered quickly. “I do not want to put you out, Peter. I had thought we would do this once a week until I grow comfortable with the horse.”
“Certainly not,” he replied, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I plan to have you riding around your estate by Friday.”
“You have too much faith in me,” Kate said dryly. “I shall believe that when I see it.”
“You’ll be doing it by Friday, mark my words. Now do not argue with me. We have gotten you started, let us keep up the momentum.”
Kate nodded once, determination setting in. He was right; she just needed to conquer this, and the quicker the better.
Martin
Spinning the glass of brandy on the table, Martin watched the amber liquid slosh up the side of the cup. When he’d ridden over to Split Tree earlier that day and seen Peter teaching Miss Kingston to ride, he’d wanted to throttle his brother. The man was incredibly dense if he imagined Miss Kingston would look upon him favorably after she learned of the role he had played on that fateful day in the woods a decade ago.
Peter didn’t qualify as a suitor. He was a bully.
And the Miss Kingston he knew would never fall in love with a bully.
It was a good thing Martin had chosen to turn directly around and go back home, or he likely would have said something to Peter and Miss Kingston that he would later come to regret. It was a pitiful truth that Peter brought out the worst in him. But what could he do about it? Their relationship would never heal, and that was Peter’s fault alone. It was Peter’s choice to stand by Charles through every childhood altercation, forever creating an impenetrable barrier—one Martin could never overcome.
Peter stepped into the library, caught Martin’s gaze, and paused. He hovered in the doorway, so clearly uncomfortable. It was delightful watching Peter squirm, but Martin needed to put an end to it. He had something more important to accomplish this evening.
“How did the lesson go today?” he asked, holding his brother’s gaze.
Peter stilled. Stepping into the room, he crossed the rug and lowered himself in the chair opposite Martin. “Really well. Miss Kingston is a natural.”
Martin sipped at his brandy. “Of course she is.”
“You are welcome to join us tomorrow,” Peter said, his hands clutching the edges of the armrests.
“I’ve too much to do,” Martin said, waving the offer away. He would not encroach on Miss Kingston’s lessons, not when he wouldn’t be the man in charge. He never wanted her to see him in a position of less authority than Peter. “I have sent the invitations for the dinner party to introduce Miss Kingston and Mrs. Nielson to Larkfield society.”
Peter nodded, no doubt relieved.
“It is my understanding that you’ve engaged a man to act as Miss Kingston’s steward as well,” Martin said, his voice even. He chuckled, the sound void of mirth. “One would almost believe you’ve set your sights on her.”
Silence settled between them, Martin holding his brother’s gaze. “Brandy?” he asked, lifting the decanter. Peter nodded and Martin filled a cup before adding more to his own. The splash of liquid against glass was loud in the quiet room.
“It is no secret that I’ve paid Miss Kingston special attention since her arrival,” Martin continued, handing his brother the glass. “I am prepared to request permission to formally court her, and I’d like to have your blessing.”
Peter’s eyes were hard, unyielding. Had he begun to fall for Miss Kingston too? Well, Martin spoke first. And they couldn’t both have her.
Peter brought his cup to his lips, taking a sip. “Has Miss Kingston given you any indication that she would welcome your suit?”
“Of course,” Martin said, leaning back in his chair. “I wouldn’t have planned anything otherwise. I need to make a formal request to court her, of course, but I wanted to speak to you about it first, to ensure that you would bless the union.”
“You plan to offer for her already?”
“No, not yet. But that will be the inevitable result.”
Peter nodded. “Of course.”
“I am glad you are treating her so kindly, brother. She will become your sister after all.”
Peter drained the rest of his brandy and set the glass on the table beside his chair. “Is that all?”
Martin nodded, refilling his own glass. He could only dampen his smile so much—he didn’t want Peter to see the immense joy this conversation had given him. It was strained, uncomfortable, effective. Peter could assist Miss Kingston all he wanted now, their lessons tainted by the steadfast truth that she would become Martin’s wife.
19
Kate
Tuesday’s ride
had Kate comfortably trotting around the paddock by herself, and Wednesday she was testing the horse in the field behind the stables. Peter refused to let her off of the stable, flat grounds yet, and for that she was grateful. Peter had ridden Domino as well for that lesson and they’d stayed out in the field for a good deal longer than she had before, causing Kate to feel no small degree of soreness by the time she was lifted down from the saddle.
“Perhaps we will take a break tomorrow and resume Friday?” Peter suggested. “I happen to know that there are a great many things planned for entertainment this evening at the dinner party, and if my brother has his wish, then you shall not be leaving Evanslea until the wee hours of the morning.”
“Mercy, it sounds like a ball.”
“Do not be surprised if it turns into one,” Peter said resignedly. “Martin’s dinner parties often do.”
Arranging the skirt of her habit over her arm, Kate swallowed. Of course she hadn’t completely forgotten about the dinner party, but it had not been entirely at the forefront of her mind of late, and now the realities of the evening were making themselves very clear. “Perhaps I should have brushed up on my dancing a little more and worried about reading those agriculture books a little less this week. My head is spinning with soil content and sun angles and percentages. I am afraid I won’t know the difference between a minuet and a reel.”
“I think you will manage,” Peter said. “Martin fancies the waltz, anyhow.”
Kate peered at Peter, trying to gauge whether or not he was in earnest. He looked down at her as they walked across the lawn to the house. “Are you scandalized? I understand that in London it is becoming widely more acceptable. In our circle of society here we still have a few that refuse to dance it; but for the most part it has been tolerated.”
“I am afraid I will have to sit out the dancing regardless. Not only do I not know how to waltz, but I am sure my legs won’t carry me around tonight as it is.”
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