Page 63

“There’s more to life than the path they’ve chosen for you,” Rose said, her voice gentle yet firm. “You should decide for yourself, Agnes. Follow your heart.”

The words lingered, resonating with Agnes. The confines of societal expectations weighed heavily on her, but Rose’s plea sparked a tiny flame of rebellion within.

As Agnes left Rose’s home, the crisp London air hit her face. The decision to confront Matthew solidified in her mind. She needed to speak with him, to untangle the threads of her heart and confront the choices that loomed ahead.

The journey to self-discovery, a path carved by her own decisions, awaited.

I shall heed my own counsel and choose the path dictated by reason—Matthew. My heart unequivocally belongs to him.

CHAPTER21

The crisp morning air embraced Matthew as he strolled toward the stables, the earthy scent of hay and the distant sounds of neighing horses welcoming him. The stable hands paused in their duties, offering respectful greetings as he passed. Rumors of his prowess, both on horseback and otherwise, seemed to linger in their shy glances.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” they greeted in unison, their voices carrying a mixture of admiration and playful whispers.

Letitia’s words about the gossipy nature of the estate seemed to ring true.

Approaching the stables, Matthew noticed the stable master, a weathered man named Harold, engrossed in the meticulous grooming of his prized steed, Thunder. The magnificent creature, a chestnut stallion with a flowing mane, stood proudly, a testament to the care it received under Harold’s watchful eye.

“Morning, Harold,” Matthew greeted with a warm smile.

As Matthew approached, Harold glanced up from his grooming duties, a weathered grin forming on his face. “Your Grace, good mornin’. Thunder’s been itching for a ride, he has.”

Matthew chuckled, running his fingers through Thunder’s mane. “I can tell by the look in his eyes. He’s got that restless energy today.”

Harold nodded knowingly. “Aye, restless, indeed. Seems like he’s got a taste for adventure, just like his rider.”

Matthew laughed. “Well, I suppose he’s in good company, then. We’ll give him a good run today.”

Harold continued to brush Thunder’s coat, his hands working with practiced skill. “Your Grace, rumor has it the ladies in the kitchen are quite taken by Thunder. They say he’s got the charm of a dashing nobleman.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow, amused. “Is that so? I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t start receiving more fan mail than I do.”

Harold chuckled. “Wouldn’t want that, now, would we? Though I reckon he’s got the advantage in the looks department.”

Matthew feigned offense. “Are you saying Thunder’s more handsome than his rider?”

Harold grinned. “Well, Your Grace, Thunder doesn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances at fancy parties, now, does he?”

Matthew laughed heartily. “True enough. He’s got the right idea, I suppose. Living the carefree life without a care for societal expectations.”

Harold nodded, a twinkle in his eyes. “A wise creature, he is. Knows how to enjoy the simple pleasures.”

Their banter continued as they exchanged lighthearted remarks about Thunder’s supposed popularity and Matthew’s contrasting responsibilities. The stable master’s easygoing demeanor provided a welcome respite from the more formal interactions Matthew often encountered.

Soon after, Harold excused himself to attend to other duties, leaving Matthew alone with Thunder.

With a practiced ease, Matthew saddled Thunder, the leather creaking softly. As he mounted, the world below him shifted, and the fields stretched out before them. The morning sun bathed the landscape in a golden glow, casting a serene ambiance over the estate.

The wind tousled Matthew’s hair as he guided Thunder through the sprawling fields. The rhythmic sound of hooves against the soft earth provided a calming cadence, temporarily freeing him from the complexities of estate management and societal expectations.

For a while, it was just man and horse, navigating the vast expanse together. The morning ride became a dance of unity, a shared experience that transcended words. As they galloped across the fields, the distant laughter of workers, the whispering breeze, and the steady drumming of hooves created a symphony of simplicity.

In those moments, Matthew found solace.

Yet, as he let himself be carried away by the swift gallop, thoughts of Agnes managed to slip through the barricades he had built.

He imagined the expanse of fields before him transformed into a grand ballroom, Agnes in her flowing gown, the two of them twirling through a dance of their own. The image brought a bittersweet smile to his face.