Page 11 of The Gentlewoman Companion (The Gentlewoman #4)

He and Louisa had already discussed the weather, and she’d given short replies to his questions regarding her studies.

Halverton could think of nothing else to say, so he began blathering about politics to fill the silence, ignoring the inner voice that bid him stop boring her with minutiae.

Though his mother was an exception, most women knew nothing of the parliamentary acts that shifted the nation.

Like a true oaf, he persisted in describing the proposal concerning the East India Company.

Before disclosing his agreement with Lord Denton to support the bill, he concluded his monologue, cringing at the persnickety details his thoroughness demanded he impart.

“That act may be best for England and certainly benefits those members of the peerage who’ve invested in the company, but is it best for the English people or for the common trader?” she asked. It appeared Miss Thorpe had been listening.

Though he harbored the same questions, he felt he had no good answers and thus decided to stand with his father’s party. “Voting in favor of the company is what my father would have done, so I trust it is the best course of action.”

“It’ll encourage smuggling.”

Halverton scoffed. “Really, I hardly think those scoundrels need an excuse.”

“When the imports are taxed so mightily and tradespeople are hindered by steep prices, smuggling will increase. Merchants will declare the maximum they are allowed and smuggle the rest. I am from Cornwall, you remember. Smuggling happens a stone’s throw from my home, and my family has not gone untouched from its evils. ”

Halverton gripped his reins. Here was the perspective he’d wanted, but her words infused him with restless tension.

He’d made his choice, had already sent the letter.

Was he wrong? She spoke with such conviction.

Was that confidence founded, and did she understand the issue?

“Without a stronghold abroad, other countries may gain an undesirable advantage.”

“How does that help the average Englishman?”

“It increases the wealth of our country.”

“ Your wealth, the peers’ wealth. Not mine. Not my neighbors.’ Not those merchants who must become criminals to support themselves.”

Her logic grated. If she was right, he would have to grapple with the possibility that his father either voted ignorantly or selfishly. No. He could not accept that. Without experience, he must rely on his father’s wisdom. “My father was a Tory. I am a Tory. I vote with him.”

“That’s filial of you.”

She disapproved, yet he wanted her understanding. “What have you against it?”

“Nothing at all. I’m sure your father was a fine man, but if I agreed with my father on everything, I’d be married to a man twice my age.”

Though not a parallel argument, her words snagged at his doubt.

Yet, who was she to question his judgment?

He’d never considered himself a blind follower, but the idea of voting against his party, his own father, made him shift in his saddle.

Or did his discomfort stem from the truth she spoke?

Members of parliament often profited from their votes, and—as he’d learned from studying his father’s papers—his family was no exception.

“Why the creased brow?” Miss Thorpe asked, grinning. “Look how well I ride.” She let go of the reins and turned her palms up.

A bush to Miss Halverton’s left suddenly rustled and cracked. Daisy stepped back, shaking her head and stomping. The horse bolted and Miss Thorpe leaned forward. “No! No, no, no!”

“Take the reins! Pull to your left!” Halverton barked, but she was clutching Daisy’s mane. “Take the leads!” He gave Goliath his head, trying to catch up. Graham shouted instructions from behind. The mare picked up speed. Miss Thorpe bounced like a ragdoll.

“Miss Thorpe!” he roared. “Take the reins! Tug to your hip!” She had likely gripped Daisy’s mane on instinct, which was only making matters worse.

Miss Thorpe fumbled, finally grasping the leads.

“Pull!” He hated feeling useless.

She yanked the leads to her hip until the horse had no choice but to slow and walk in a circle.

When the horse stilled, Miss Thorpe said, “I’ve had enough.” She spoke almost in a whisper. “Let’s return on foot. Help me down.” She dislodged herself from the pommel of her saddle. Halverton and Graham assisted. Her feet hit the ground, and she stumbled forward until Halverton steadied her.

“You recovered remarkably well,” he offered. After watching her progress so confidently these past few weeks, he hated seeing this defeat.

“Why did I let go of the reins?” Her voice shook, and her chin quivered.

He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching for her. “You kept your seat. You are officially an accomplished horsewoman.”

“Thank you, my lord, for that extreme flattery.”

“He is right, Miss Thorpe,” Graham said. “You did very well.”

Miss Thorpe nodded, then strode shakily toward the trees.

Halverton followed, wondering how he could assist her. When he learned to ride, he’d been thrown once, and his father had forced him to remount immediately. He’d obeyed and mastered his fears as a result. “You must get back on Daisy,” he said to her retreating back.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “What? No.”

“If you don’t, you’ll be afraid tomorrow.”

She ripped her riding hat from her head, tossing it to the ground before pressing her hands against a tree.

He stood next to her, stupidly searching for the words she needed. After some hesitation, he rested his hand on her shoulder. “You are excellent with a horse. Don’t let this hold you back.”

Dappled light dancing on her cheek. With a tremulous exhale, she sagged forward, resting her forehead on the tree. Her breath slowed, and he tried to manage his own unsteady heartbeat. Abruptly, she stiffened and stood taller, taking a step away from him.

“Let me catch my breath.” Her eyes darted between him and the forest, her face a mask of wariness.

She stepped through the trees, and he planted his feet to keep from following her.

“Let her be, my lord,” Graham said. “Come, the horses need water.” Halverton watched Miss Thorpe weave through the woods while he and Graham led the animals to a stream.

“I am pleased you are spending so much time out of doors, my lord,” Graham said. “The young lady is good for you.” He grinned.

“Mind your own affairs.”

“No need to look at me like that. And pardon me, but you are my affair. I’ve never seen a lady turn your head.”

“She is…interesting.”

“What was that, my lord? You’re muttering.”

“Hold your tongue, Graham.”

His valet chuckled.

A crunch of leaves signaled Miss Thorpe’s return. With cheeks in high color and puffy eyes, she emerged from the trees.

“We will return on foot,” Halverton told her, “if that is what you wish.”

Her jaw flexed. “You were right. I don’t want to be afraid.”

He nodded at her decision and began repeating every bit of instruction he could pull from his brain to encourage her.

She interrupted in the middle of his telling her how to grip the pommel. “My lord, you are not qualified to instruct me on that particular. If you mount Daisy and ride her for a few minutes, perhaps you will give better advice.”

He almost laughed, but her mouth turned down.

He examined the saddle, which was very different than the one he used.

A U-shaped pommel curled from the seat, into which a lady wrapped her leg to add stability when both legs lay to one side.

How did women manage to ride at all? He’d never considered the problem.

Miss Thorpe raised her brow and opened her hand, pressing him to act. If women rode aside in skirts, surely he could do the same in breeches.

He slid his foot into the stirrup and manipulated his leg into the pommel.

It pinched his thigh. “Graham, bring me the riding crop.” Twisting his body toward the front of the horse, he tightened his legs around the pommel and urged the horse forward, feeling ridiculous but eager to help Miss Thorpe.

The weight of her eyes motivated him onward.

After a few moments, his abdomen burned from the strain, but he moved into a trot and then a canter before turning around.

Miss Thorpe and Graham stood together, watching him, Miss Thorpe with pursed lips while Graham fisted his hand over his mouth.

He stopped in front of them. “You are sporting with me.”

They burst into laughter, Miss Thorpe throwing her head back.

“It’s merely,” she gasped, “I did not expect you would do it.”

Helpless and awkward, Halverton watched them try and fail to collect themselves, falling instead into fitful guffaws.

Their amusement grated against his ribs.

He was an earl, and they were making fun of his attempt at kindness.

His leg caught as he swung it around the pummel, sending him momentarily off balance.

He hastily righted himself, dismounted, and straightened into his most intimidating posture, all of which added to Miss Thorpe’s amusement.

“I am sure you will let me know if I may assist you further,” he said, annoyed by the edge in his voice. He rarely lost his composure.

Miss Thorpe turned to Graham. “He doesn’t know he is funny.” She giggled.

To his credit, the valet pulled a neutral face.

“My lord,” she said, through mirth that now streamed down her face, “do not be cross.” Bent over, with one hand on her stomach, she reached for him as if in support.

Her gloved fingers tightened around his wrist, her warmth seeping up his arm, untangling his vexation.

She took a deep breath and straightened.

“You have cured my fear. I can ride home.”

Her appreciation softened any remaining irritation. “It is not easy to ride aside. I applaud you.”

“Oh, but you are a natural, my lord. Would you like to take Daisy home?” Her grin brightened the din of the forest. He must have stared at her for a beat too long, for she turned her back to him and patted Daisy’s neck.

Halverton gave Miss Thorpe a leg up, and she arranged herself atop Daisy with a determined set to her jaw.

“We will go slowly home, and if anything should spook the horses, you know what to do,” said Halverton, mounting Goliath.

Miss Thorpe maintained irreproachable form all the way to the stables, even braving a small jump once they returned to the paddock. She smiled at him in triumph and gratitude, and he could not help wondering how he could become the source of more smiles such as that.