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“Your boots are free of spiders or vermin.” Nellie nodded at the worn pair of knee-high boots that Mama had ordered from the local cobbler with the instructions that they be perfect for riding and mucking about in the fields.

With low, sturdy heels and thick soles, the boots from Mama were one of Grace’s most cherished possessions.

“I missed you, old friends,” she told the boots as she picked them up and hugged them.

Nellie shook her head and quietly clucked like a disapproving hen, but didn’t say a word as she helped Grace change into her unorthodox adventuring apparel.

“No one ever sees me, Nellie,” Grace assured her as she shrugged on the jacket plagued with snagged threads and sleeves with frayed edges. “And my horse and dogs do not judge me by my apparel.”

“I would never judge you, my lady,” the maid said as she sorted Grace’s hair and helped her secure the weight of it up inside a tattered old cap. “But there is word that the new Duke of Wolfebourne will be about this summer. He may be looking for a wife.”

“I have four sisters from which he can choose.” Grace stepped into her boots, then straightened and adjusted her braces.

She didn’t want her buckskin breeches to sag so much in the backside.

With a jaunty tap of her hat, she offered her fretting maid a reassuring smile.

“Besides, here in the country, the ton is always a few days behind on the latest gossip. For all we know, the man is already married. Stop worrying and enjoy the fresh air.”

“Yes, my lady.” But Nellie looked far from convinced or pleased to find herself in the country.

“I shall bring you some fresh wildflowers,” Grace called out as she skipped from the room, took the back stairs down to the kitchens, and exited the house through the servants’ entrance.

Some members of the aristocracy escaping London for the summer had been known to drop by unannounced when they noticed the larger manor houses were once again inhabited.

The joyful return to her adventuring clothes would be short-lived indeed if she used the front entrance and was spotted by anyone whom Chance considered a threat to the Broadmere reputation.

Keeping to the shadows, she made her way to the stable and was met by four of her five hounds. “Where is Lucy?” she asked Carson and Jasper.

Both men removed their hats and kept their eyes averted, as if looking at her in her breeches might cause their souls to burst into flames. “Lucy and the wee ones are sunning in the side garden, my lady,” Jasper said. “We nay had the heart to disturb them.”

“Well done, gentlemen. They have earned an afternoon of sunning.” Grace went to her horse, a fine bay thoroughbred, and gave it an affectionate rub. “Ready for a good, long run, Pegasus?”

The horse danced in place and bobbed its head as if champing at the bit to be on the way.

“Me too, old friend.”

After Carson settled the short-legged, overly round Gastric into the customized seat attached to the back of the saddle, Grace launched herself up onto her mount.

Both Jasper and Carson ducked their heads, their faces reddening even more because she rode astride rather than sidesaddle.

One would think veteran Broadmere servants would be accustomed to the unorthodox ways of the family after witnessing Mama and Papa’s highly unique beliefs on child rearing and supporting their daughters’ interests, which went far beyond what Society considered appropriate for females.

“Come along, Pete, Moses. You too, Ferdinand,” she called to the bouncing herd of hounds as she and Pegasus quick-stepped out of the stable.

She couldn’t wait to race across the meadow and knew the horse and dogs felt the same.

Leaning forward, she gave Pegasus his head, loosening the reins so he’d know his gallop had no boundaries.

Gastric woofed his happiness from his post at the back of her saddle.

The other dogs yipped and barked, loping along and keeping up admirably well.

The wind in her face and her animals’ joyous freedom exhilarated Grace, making her laugh like a carefree fool.

As they neared a ravine hidden by trees and tangled vines, she slowed Pegasus to a gentle meandering, knowing this particularly rough part of the land needed to be treated with respect and traversed with greater care.

With some difficulty, she lowered Gastric to the ground, then returned to the saddle.

“Good heavens, my sweet boy. We really must do something about your weight.”

Gastric gave her a happy woof , then the dogs disappeared into the thick snarl of undergrowth.

The lot of them loved nothing better than flushing a rabbit or fox out of hiding and giving chase.

But they knew better than to cause the local fauna any harm.

Grace had trained her hounds well. They knew their mistress would be most displeased if a creature suffered because of them.

No one hunted on Broadmere lands—be they aristocrats or hounds.

She refused to allow it, and Chance had yielded to her on that point long ago.

Relaxing in the saddle, she and Pegasus slowly wandered alongside the ravine as the hounds enjoyed their exploring.

“Oh, Connor, whatever shall we do?”

The tearful little voice coming from the depths of the bushes made Grace pull Pegasus to a quick stop.

“The vines have him,” the child said, “and he is too tired to fight them any longer. We can’t leave him. We just can’t.”

“No crying, Sissy,” said a boy in a much calmer tone. “I will get him out. Galileo is standing watch.”

Both children shrieked as Grace’s dogs came upon them and sang out their find with the deafening bay of barks and howls.

Grace dismounted and pierced the air with a sharp whistle that immediately silenced her pups and brought them to heel. “Hello,” she called out, hoping she wasn’t too late to save whoever was caught in the vines. For them to be unable to climb out of the ravine, they must be injured. “Who is there?”

Only the breeze rustling through the leaves and the quiet gurgling of the stream below answered.

“Whoever you are, I can help you,” she said, trying to sound as safe and friendly as possible.

“This is Broadmere land. I promise the duke is a most understanding man.” The duke would never cross his sisters when it came to a pair of helpless children, possibly even more, found in dire straits upon his land.

Poor mites. They were probably afraid he’d call the constable to take them away for trespassing or poaching.

“Please let me help you. I mean you no harm. Truly.”

Again, only the song of the wind, the crows’ caws, and the bubbling stream answered.