Page 17 of Caught with the Beastly Duke (Dangerous Dukes #3)

Chapter Seventeen

“ D on’t be nervous,” Nathan said as he helped Rosalie up onto the horse. “I know you will be just fine.”

“You’re more confident in me than I am,” she replied as she placed a foot in the stirrups.

“Well, I’ve been watching you the last couple of days, and I know you’re better than you think you are.”

“Hmm.” She gave him a skeptical look then focused on what she was doing: grabbing the reins and hoisting herself upward onto the horse then arranging her skirts around her legs as she settled into the side saddle. She did this so smoothly and elegantly that his eyebrows shot up.

“Did you feel that?” he asked as she adjusted herself on the saddle. “You’re becoming a natural already!”

“Well, I would hardly say that.” She patted the side of the neck of the horse. “But Madam and I do seem to be getting along.”

“She likes you.”

Rosalie smiled down at the horse. “She’s perfect.”

“All right, I want you to give me a trot around the field,” Nathan said, stepping back from Rosalie and the horse and surveying the field in front of them. This was the field just north of the castle where he had first learned to ride. It was perfect for beginners: the ground was flat enough so the horses did not often stumble but with enough give so the horses joints were not hurt, and there were lots of trees surrounding it, shielding it from the most vicious rays of sun that were always threatening to blind riders.

“Are you sure I’m ready to trot?” Rosalie looked uncertainly down at him. “We only got up to a trot once yesterday, and that was after an hour of me working with Madam.”

“I’m sure,” Nathan said. “This is how you learn, and more importantly, this is how you make the horse obey you: by showing your confidence and dominance in the saddle.”

Rosalie didn’t look entirely convinced, but at last, she nodded and then straightened herself on the horse.

“All right, Madam,” she murmured, leaning closer to the horse’s ear. “We’ve got this.”

She then dug her heels into the horse’s side and tapped her riding crop firmly on the mare’s flank.

Madam broke briefly into a trot then slowed back to a walk.

“Again!” Nathan called out, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the Duchess’ posture, her grip on the reins, and the strength with which she had urged the horse forward.

Rosalie went again, more determinedly this time, and Madam began to move faster. Then she was trotting away from him, Rosalie poised and sure on top of the horse.

“Excellent!” he shouted after her, but he wasn’t sure that Rosalie had heard him. She was too far away now, carried away by the beautiful mare she rode, and Nathan couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride as he watched her.

It had been a few weeks since he had told her he wanted to teach her how to ride. In that short time, she had come so far. Now, when she swung up onto the horse, she almost never mentioned her fear of heights which had been debilitating on the first day.

The fear hadn’t lasted, though. It had been as Nathan had predicted. Once Rosalie had felt the rush of riding the horse across the field, she had forgotten her fear. Riding often had this effect on people, he’d noticed: it made them forget their troubles and worries. They lost themselves in the ride, in the horse, and in the feeling of flying over the land.

Rosalie rounded the post at the far end of the field, and Nathan waved at her to come back.

“That’s far enough,” he called out. “Bring her back now.”

Rosalie obeyed, turning the horse with an expertise that could only have been born of some instinctive talent, and leaning forward as she trotted back toward Nathan. To Nathan’s eye, she seemed fully in control of the animal, and once she neared him, she pulled up the reins, returning Madam to a walk and then back to a standstill.

“How was it?” he asked, smiling up into the face of the Duchess.

The smile she gave told him everything he needed to know. Her skin was glowing, her eyes were shining, and she was out of breath.

“It was incredible,” she exclaimed. “I’ve never felt so alive!”

He laughed as he took the reins from her. “That’s why we ride horses: to feel alive. To remind ourselves that living isn’t only for characters in books but for us, too.”

“I see that now.” She carefully dismounted then ran her hand along the horse’s muzzle, nuzzling it and holding it close. “You were wonderful, Madam,” she murmured. “The best horse in the world.”

“Let’s walk her a bit before we take her back to the stables,” he said, “then you can give her a wash down.”

Rosalie nodded. “Yes, I’d love to brush her.”

“And then, we can partake in the next best ritual of riding.”

Rosalie looked at him quizzically. “Which is…?”

“Why, eating of course,” he said, grinning at her. “I told you: riding is very active, and we have to keep your energy up.”

She laughed, but, just as he had instructed, when they emerged from the stables forty-five minutes later, a large spread of cold meats, salad, freshly baked bread, cheese, and tarts had been laid out for them on tables that had been erected right in front of the formal garden. Rosalie’s eyes grew wide in wonder and awe as they approached the setup.

“You arranged for all of this?” she asked as she seated herself at one of the tables.

“Of course.” He sat down across from her. “This is one of the perks of being a duke and duchess: we can enjoy our leisure time. Riding, eating, drinking… and then, of course, investigating opium smuggling in the duchy and the neighboring estates.”

Rosalie laughed, and he motioned at a footman to bring some wine for them.

Nathan waited until her plate was full, and she was sipping a French sauvignon blanc, before speaking again.

“So, how are you enjoying your riding lessons?”

“I like them a lot.” She set her wineglass down and looked at him thoughtfully. “I never expected to like something so physical, but I admit, I do. And I have thought very little about my fear of heights throughout.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“How do I look up there?” Her eyes twinkled, and she took another sip of wine.

Nathan licked his lips. Truthfully, Rosalie looked bewitching up on Madam. She had a naturally strong seat, but more than that, she looked like a maiden out of a romantic novel with her long hair streaming behind her as she rode through the fields of his estate. It was hard not to stare at her as she urged the horse forward, navigating difficult terrain and remaining steady. He knew that if she could see herself, she would be astounded by how much she appeared like a character in a book.

But that wasn’t what he said. Not because she shouldn’t know it but because there was something more pressing he had to say.

“You look strong,” he said, gazing at her steadily. “And that is the highest compliment I could give you.”

“Strong?” She looked surprised. “Usually, a woman wants to hear that she looks beautiful.”

“You look beautiful as well,” he said, his cheeks turning pink, “but as I said, strong is the highest compliment I could pay you.”

She took another sip of wine before responding. “Why is that?” she asked.

He swirled his wine, thinking. How much do I tell her without scaring her back into her bad habits?

“My mother was a very weak woman,” he began at last. “Not emotionally or spiritually, although perhaps those as well, but I mean she was physically weak. My father was hard on her, you see, and she would often punish herself for the slights he accused her of by not eating.”

He let this confession hang in the air for a moment before continuing, “It was hard for me to see her so depleted. Some weeks, she couldn’t get out of bed; she just didn’t have the energy. She wasted away, and it always killed me that I couldn’t help her.”

Rosalie sat very still, watching him. She didn’t say anything, but he knew that she understood: he wanted her to eat, to be strong and ride horses, because he didn’t want her to become like his mother.

He didn’t want to call her out or make her uncomfortable, but it was important she knew this. That was why he worked so hard to keep her fed.

“I’m sure that was very hard on you,” Rosalie said at last.

“Indeed.” He inclined his head. “I would have liked to have seen her atop a horse like you were just now.”

“I did feel strong.” She smiled and reached for her fork, digging into the tart on her plate. His heart soared as she took a bite. “I like being strong.” Her eyes glittered. “I never knew it was possible before.”

“I’m glad you could experience that.”

She was quiet for a moment, seeming to concentrate on the food, and then she looked back up at him, a strange, almost determined look in her eyes.

“I’ve had a thought,” she began slowly. “All this discussion of strength has me thinking that there are still ways I could be stronger in my character.”

“What do you mean?” Nathan asked. In his opinion, Rosalie had an extremely strong character.

“Well, I never confronted my father for everything he did to me,” she started, dragging her fork through her food as she gazed into space. “And for everything he did to my sisters. I know that both Violet and Iris were able to confront him and tell him what they really thought, but I never had that moment with him.”

“Why do you think you never confronted him?”

She thought about this for a moment. “He always made me feel so small that I hid in my books. I’m still hiding, I think, even though he’s safely locked away. But I don’t want to be that kind of person anymore.” She gave him a small smile. “Feeling strong on the horse today and overcoming my fear of heights made me realize I could overcome my fear of my father as well. I don’t have to hide from him anymore.”

Nathan nodded. He understood that better than she realized. “So what would you like to do?” he prompted.

“I think I need to see him.” She swallowed, as if the thought made her nervous, but then she nodded. “Yes, I need to see him and prove to him that he can’t hurt me anymore.”

Nathan didn’t love the idea of Rosalie being in the same room as Jebediah Crampton. The man was more cunning and vicious than either of them could fully comprehend. There were certainly ways Jebediah could manipulate and harm Rosalie. But he also knew that if she needed this, it was the least he could do to grant her this wish. And she was stronger than he gave her credit for; she could stand up to her father.

“We could stop by the prison on the way back to London,” he said, and her eyes grew wide. “It is on the way, and I know they allow visitors. I can make the arrangements if you like.”

“Oh my goodness, really?” She put down her fork. “Do you really mean it?”

“Yes of course,” he said, and he smiled at her as best he could. “You deserve to feel safe, and if this will help you, then I am happy to help facilitate it.”

And if Jebediah tries anything , he added to himself, then I will make sure he regrets it for all his days.