Page 24 of The Rules of Matrimony (The Matchmaking Mamas #4)

Amie sat beside Lady Kellen the next morning at tea in their small drawing room. Lord Kellen sat on the opposite sofa, a newspaper in his hands. Ian transformed back to being Lord Grumpy whenever his father was around and was just now leaning sullenly against the mantel. There was no fire, as the morning was warm, but he seemed content to keep a distance from all of them.

The dark circles under his eyes testified to another long night. She did not think warm milk agreed with her. She, too, was exhausted. It wasn’t as if she had planned to kick him all night and send him back to the floor. The very idea forced a small moan from her lips.

“Are you well, Amie?” Lady Kellen asked. She had taken to calling her that at the wedding, and Amie rather liked it. Even if liking it meant nearly breaking rule number two.

She could feel both Lord Kellen’s and Ian’s eyes suddenly on her. “Yes, perfectly well.” She put her tea cup to her lips and took an obligatory sip.

“Forgive me,” Ian said, snapping his fingers from across the room. “I had forgotten. I promised Amie I would take her riding.” He pushed away from the mantel and came toward her, his hand outstretched. “I apologize for my forgetfulness, darling. Shall we?”

Darling? That was a far cry from the ordinary terms of acknowledgment she received. But he did not have to ask twice. She set her teacup down and eagerly reached for his hand. His large one circled around hers, his grip strong, just as she had imagined it from the few times he had helped her in and out of carriages. Not that she had wondered regularly about what holding his hand would be like, only once or twice.

“Will you excuse us?” Ian asked his mother. “We won’t be long.”

“Oh, go on,” Lady Kellen said. “It’s a beautiful day, and you both should be out enjoying it. Your father has some correspondence to finish, and I saw a good book in your library that I haven’t read for an age. We will be perfectly content, so you must ride as long as you’d like.”

Amie glanced at Lord Kellen to see what he thought of this new arrangement. His mouth drew into a grim line, but he did not look up from his newspaper.

Ian squeezed her hand. “Very well, we will be off.” He led her out of the room and did not release her hand until they were in front of their bedchamber, where they could change into their riding clothes. “I might not be the most perceptive,” he said, “but I could tell you desired an escape.”

She grimaced. “I didn’t mean to be obvious. I hope your mother is not offended.”

Ian opened the door for her. “Did you see how excited she became when I said we were riding? Her smile was like a child at Twelfth Night. I warned you that she is the queen of matchmakers. Apparently, her enthusiasm extends to after weddings too.”

“But your father—”

“Don’t worry about him. I just remembered something though. Go right ahead and call for Edna and change into your riding habit while I take care of it.”

She had been wondering what excuse he would give her to allow her privacy. “An excellent plan. Should we meet at the stables?”

Ian took several backward steps. “Yes. The stables in a half hour.”

She grinned and let herself into her room. Thirty minutes later, almost on the dot, she approached the stables. Dressed in her new forest-green riding habit and fashionable hat with a feathered plume in the back, courtesy of her aunt, she searched for any sign of Ian. She must have beat him there. As soon as she’d finished the thought, the stable doors opened, and Ian came out leading his large gelding. A groom followed behind him with a smaller roan-colored mare.

She watched Ian’s eyes appraise her habit. The smallest smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. She took it as a sign of his approval.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She bit her bottom lip. “I forgot to tell you, I haven’t had much experience riding.”

Ian grinned. “I daresay this was even more inspired than I thought.” He handed his reins to the groom and exchanged them for that of the mare. Then he led the mare to the mounting block and waved Amie over. She obeyed, but her steps were tentative. The horse was beautiful from a distance but rather large up close. It had been some years since she had ridden, and sudden nerves fluttered in her middle.

Ian held his hand out to her once more. “Don’t be shy.” His smile was broader than usual, his mood completely reversed now that he was away from his father. The carefree grin enhanced his already handsome features.

“Shy of whom? You or the horse?” She accepted his hand before he could answer.

He chuckled, squeezing her hand again. “The horse. It is never a bad idea to be wary of me. Though with kicks as strong as yours, perhaps I should be the one who is worried.”

She stole her hand from his and swatted his shoulder. The action was far more playful than she ought to have allowed, and she quickly turned her attention to the mare. “Is this where you help me mount this great beast?”

“Correction, Lady Reynolds, this is where I help you mount this docile animal.”

She barely suppressed her laugh. She liked this version of Ian. And it did not go without notice that he had finally said her new title with ease.

With a little help from him, she managed to safely ascend into the sidesaddle. Glancing down, she grimaced. Had the ground always been that far away from atop a horse? The animal shifted, and she pulled up hard on the reins, making the mare back up.

“Whoa there.” Ian put his arm around the mare’s neck, and his other hand came up to catch Amie’s hold on the leather reins. “Gentle now. Her name is Claire, and she will do right by you if you do right by her.”

Amie frowned warily. “It might take a moment to remember all the particulars.”

“How about I take the lead rope, and we do a few circles around the pasture until you’re comfortable again?”

“Could we?” she asked.

It took a moment to arrange the lead rope, but then, with a tug, they were off.

“How is that?” he asked.

“Not very frightening after all. She is a beautiful animal.”

He grinned up at her. “She is beautiful.” His eyes, however, never left hers, sending an unbidden thrill through her. He seemed to realize it and looked away, pulling the mare into a walk. It gave Amie the freedom to smile without his seeing. He couldn’t have meant his words about her. She wasn’t a real beauty. But perhaps she wasn’t unattractive to him either.

And even more importantly, this morning they felt like friends. The progress filled her with contentment. Perhaps the cadence of the mare’s steps and the charming scenery played a part in it too. The layers of green around her seemed brighter with every passing day as spring reached for summer. She was excited to see more of what this place had in store for her future.

“Where do you normally ride?” she asked. The hunting box itself was small and close to the road, but she did not know how far the estate extended behind it. The untamed land stretched as far as her eye could see.

“I prefer variety and following my mood,” Ian answered, pointing to the west. “There’s a rise not far from here that has a breathtaking view just above the trees.”

“Is it a difficult ride?”

“Not terribly.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “I know neither us slept well, so if you aren’t up to it today, perhaps I can show you another time.”

“I should like that.”

“When was the last time you rode?”

She thought for a moment. “Just before my father died, so I suppose I was a few months shy of thirteen.”

“And did you care for it then?”

“I was fearless as a youth. For my twelfth birthday, I was gifted a pretty buckskin mare I named Pegasus.”

“Ah, the flying mythological horse. A very romantic choice.”

She laughed lightly. “She was no white stallion, but she soared when she ran. To my great dismay, Papa did not allow me to give her her head often, saying my form had to improve first. I grumbled a great deal about it.”

“So you grumbled about someone other than me? I like this story more and more. What happened to Pegasus?”

Amie glanced wistfully at the countryside. “As much as I loved Peg, we had to sell her after Papa died. I refused to cry. I cared more that I would not ride with Papa anymore.”

“I’m sorry for that little girl. She lost a great deal.”

“Riding was one of the few activities we did together, as you can imagine. A man does not often have time to visit the nursery.”

“My father certainly did not, so I can understand.” Ian spoke toward the trees, but she wished she could see his expression and know exactly what that memory did to him.

“Did you ever ride together?” she asked.

“I do recall a few rides with him over the years that I had forgotten about until now.”

“Did you get along then?”

He shrugged once, his athletic form standing beside her horse. “I suppose we did. He was always an intimidating man, and I was quick to do as he said. I fear I resented him for his imperious attitude from a young age, but I also craved whatever attention he gave me.”

She fingered the smooth leather reins. “You sound like a normal youth.”

He chuckled. “If there is such a thing, then I suppose I was. There is too much buried in the past for me to want to dig it up.”

There he went again, telling her just enough to answer a question but barely scratching the surface. There was clearly more in his past concerning his father, but it appeared to be a carefully guarded secret. Or maybe secret wasn’t the word. A carefully guarded hurt, perhaps? Reaching forward to run her hand down the mare’s mane, she asked the next question on the tip of her tongue, one he could answer with greater ease. “When you’re not saving the world, what sort of pastimes do you enjoy? Is riding your favorite?”

He glanced back at her. “Ah, more prying questions. I do enjoy a good ride, but I also like swimming, fishing, archery, fencing, chess, and, generally, whatever my friends rope me into. What about you? Besides bringing broth to sick neighbors and tending to convalescing maids in our upstairs room.”

Our. He said our upstairs room. Like when he had said her title, it felt like progress. Toward what, she couldn’t say. But surely it meant something that he had finally admitted to following her and watching her charity visits.

“I like reading and sewing, though I do neither very well, but I suppose what I like the most is to listen.” She felt brave confessing this much about herself, but she wanted to tell him. Wanted someone to know her. Wanted him to know her. “I like when people tell me their troubles. It makes me feel valued and useful.”

“Are you hinting at something?”

She cast her gaze to the blue sky rippled with frothy white. “Is it working?”

He shook his head. “You already know far more about me than I ever intended you to learn. Listening, though, is a good quality, Amie. I wish more had such a unique talent.”

Her cheeks warmed with pleasure. Did he really think so? “I’ve never thought of it as a talent.”

“You don’t just listen though; you act. Together, those are powerful tools that can change the world.”

Her? Change the world? Not likely. “It’s not like anything you do, but if a friend who is sad or lonely can smile again, I feel as if I have achieved something worthwhile.”

Ian brought her horse to a stop as they finished their second loop around the pasture. “It is a great thing, Amie. God doesn’t sit back in His throne in heaven, measuring our acts of kindness. He celebrates each one, because even the smallest spark can dissipate the darkness in another’s life.”

Amie swallowed, not expecting the sudden passion in Ian’s voice. She gave a small nod of understanding.

“Forgive me.” Ian shook his head. “I suddenly find Miles’s sermons coming out of my mouth.”

She smiled. “Your vicar friend sounds wise.”

He nodded. “He’s quite good with words and actually lives what he preaches.”

“I should like to hear one of his sermons someday.” She said it lightly, not meaning anything by it, but Ian’s expression suddenly closed off, and he turned away from her.

“The day is still young,” he said, with no response to her previous comment. “Are you ready to ride unassisted? You did come here to be an independent woman. Riding can help you with that.”

She tightened her hands on the reins with the sudden reminder. “I’m ready.” The words sounded false on her lips but maybe because she wasn’t thinking about riding.

A few minutes later, Ian had mounted his own horse, and together they trotted toward the tree line, the curls framing her face blowing in the breeze.

“Is this pace agreeable?” he asked.

“It’s bumpier than I remember,” she said with a laugh, “but I love it.”

He grinned at her. “You are braver than you made yourself out to be.”

“And you are more diverting than you made yourself out to be,” she quipped.

He laughed, a full, loud laugh that carried to her and warmed her through. “Your Lord Grumpy enjoys diversions now and then, same as anyone else.”

Her Lord Grumpy? She liked that. She raised a playful brow. “Diversions are well enough, but how diverting can you be? That’s what separates the bores from the rest of the world.” She gave him a challenging look.

“A bore?” He drew his horse nearer and reached to grab her reins. “Never.”

She swatted at his hands. “Prove it.” She could not ever remember bantering with someone like this, and it made her excessively happy.

“There’s a meadow not far from here,” Ian said. “Let’s see if you remember how to run a horse.”

A thrill went through her. “Oh, I would love that. Do you think I’m ready?”

“Slow the moment you feel at all out of control. I will stay close and follow your lead.”

“Let’s try it.” Her grin must’ve been contagious because Ian returned it.

She kicked her heel back, and Claire shot forward. Amie squealed with pleasure, and Ian laughed from just behind her.

Once they reached the meadow, she challenged him to a race, which she royally lost. Ian cheered her up with some Shrewsbury cakes he had hidden in his saddlebags. He had pilfered them from the kitchen when he had stopped to greet Tiny on his way to the stables. Though he had carefully wrapped them in his handkerchief, the delicate biscuits were broken. He and Amie laughed and ate the pieces, their hands touching as they shared back and forth atop their horses.

All Amie’s worries fled from her mind. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this light. This was the freedom and happiness she had longed for. It was the ride, the warm sunshine on her back, and the song of the skylarks in the gorse bushes and the treetops. But it was also Ian. She tried to tell herself it wasn’t him, but her heart knew every lie her mind told.