“You are my school friend in addition to being my teacher,” Catherine said as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
The part of her that wanted to see Mr. Asher warred with the part of her that did not dare, and at the same time she understood the level of compliment she’d been given. Even as a young girl, Lenora had not been invited out by other girls her age. She was too shy and anxious. If she did go on an outing, it was with one of her brothers or sisters, which suited her just fine.
“I will still write the invitation,” Catherine said, trading the chalk pencil for the pen and moving the paper in front of her. “D-e-a-r M-i-s W-i— Oh, there are two S’s in ‘miss.’” She scratched out the letters and looked up at Lenora. “This will be my first draft, then I will write it without mistakes. I would never send an invitation that showed mistakes.”
How could Lenora talk her out of her enthusiasm, even if her own chest fluttered with anxiety? Each time Catherine looked up, Lenora smiled encouragingly, and by the time Catherine finished the final—perfect—invitation, Lenora had accepted that she could not refuse. This was the first time Catherine had not attempted to get out of a writing assignment.
“Now we must seal it,” Lenora said, removing the wax and stamp from her drawer. “Then it will be official.”
Catherine insisted she do it herself. They had written a few letters before, and the wax was Catherine’s favorite part. After she’d stamped the seal into the hot wax and wriggled it free without pulling the wax away from the paper, she smiled and handed the invitation across the table.
“Why, thank you, Catherine,” Lenora said, then broke open the still-soft wax and read the invitation out loud. When she finished, she removed another sheet of paper, thinking for a moment how rare paper had been in her home growing up and yet now she could use it for little more than a game.
She penned her reply, then let Catherine seal the letter by herself again and handed it across the table. Catherine was waving the letter, insisting that the wax be dry so that it would snap in that satisfying way, when there was a tapping on the doorway of the parlor.
Lenora looked past Catherine and the flapping letter and saw Mr. Asher standing in the doorway. She stood up too fast, pushing the chair back so that it crashed into the wall behind her and fell on its side. Face flaming, she righted the chair as quickly as possible, then faced him again. “Mr. Asher,” she said, then looked at the clock on the mantel to verify that it was four o’clock—the time he had said he would fetch Catherine for the weekend. “I had not realized it was so late.” But she and Catherine had been at the end of their lessons when they’d received Mr. Asher’s note, and then had spent more than an hour working on the responses.
“I can come back if you are still engaged.”
Engaged. Had he used that word on purpose?
Catherine spoke up. “Miss Wilton is going to ride with me tomorrow.”
Mr. Asher raised his eyebrows and avoided looking at Lenora. “Miss Wilton?”
Catherine crossed the room to him and passed Lenora’s acceptance letter to him as proof. “You said I could invite a friend, but you did not say it could only be a friend from Mrs. Henry’s school.” She put her hands on her hips while her uncle skimmed the words of Lenora’s letter of acceptance.
Lenora’s face was burning so hot she would not have been surprised if it burst into flame. She could no longer remember why she had not insisted that Catherine invite a friend from school. What had she been thinking?
“And Miss Wilton rides, so you cannot go back on it now.”
“Certainly not,” Mr. Asher said, shaking his head. “Only . . .”
“What?” Catherine demanded.
“Only I had planned for Miss Keighly and I to attend you and your friend.”
“That is all right.” Catherine’s answer was surprisingly quick. She turned to Lenora. “You do not mind, do you?”
“I do not mind, but perhaps Miss Keighly would.” It was a lie. Lenora did mind; she did not want to be around Miss Keighly. Especially not Mr. Asher and Miss Keighly together.
Catherine turned back to her uncle, who looked a bit flushed. Lenora frowned at him, hoping he would see the expression as an apology. She wished she knew how to get out of this situation.
“Miss Keighly will not mind,” Catherine said as though that were obvious. “But you and she must ride behind us, Uncle Aiden, otherwise she will say things like”—her voice went suddenly high and squeaky—“‘Catherine, do not bounce so much’ and ‘Catherine, do not laugh so loud’ and ‘Catherine, do not have so much fun.’”
Lenora noticed that Mr. Asher’s jaw clenched, but he did not reprimand Catherine or defend Miss Keighly.
“Perhaps it would be better for you to ride with Miss Keighly and your uncle alone tomorrow,” Lenora said. “It could be an opportunity to—”
“Uncle Aiden said I could bring a friend!” Catherine stomped her foot and clenched her fists at her sides—the prelude to one of her fits.
Lenora and Mr. Asher shared a look, and Lenora could see in his expression that Mr. Asher was not going to uninvite her.
“And I wrote that letter—twice, if you count the first draft—and gave it to you.” She seemed to remember Lenora’s response now in her uncle’s hand and quickly snatched it back and held it in front of her, her eyes moving faster across the page than she could possibly read. “And it says, ‘Dear Catherine. I wow-led, wowled—would—’” She glanced up triumphantly, but two deep spots of color had flooded her cheeks. “‘I would be’—that’s easy—‘puleez-ed—pleased to.’” She paused and then began reading fluently, or looking as though she were reading fluently. “‘I would be pleased to go riding with you as it is sure to be a day as lovely as this one, and I have very much missed riding since it has been some time since I have been to the country and do not have my own horse here in Bath. I look forward to spending the afternoon with you as your particular friend and am very grateful to have been asked. You are an excellent student and have earned this reward due to your excellent behavior, and I will do all in my power to make it as fun an adventure as possible.’”
Lenora covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing, but Catherine’s eyes were fierce when she raised them from the paper. Her eager and clever determination convinced Lenora to concede the fight. This would have to be the first step in the professional relationship she had claimed she would have with Mr. Asher. Surely after this first interaction, it would be easier to be in his company. She would not think of her hand on the back of his neck, the smoky sweet taste of tobacco on his tongue, the way . . .
“Miss Wilton?” Catherine said.
Lenora shook herself back to the present. “That is what I said. More or less.”
Mr. Asher lifted his eyebrows, equally disinclined to call her out. When Catherine looked at her uncle, Lenora shrugged. He nodded. Her stomach began to knot. She would not be able to eat until after tomorrow’s ride for the butterflies that would undoubtedly fill her stomach.
“I think it shall be a lovely afternoon,” Mr. Asher said. “And Miss Keighly and I will stay back so as not to interfere.”
Catherine grinned the smile of a child who had bested all the adults in the room. She moved back to the desk and began clearing the implements they had used as part of their lessons—something Lenora usually had to remind her to do.
“I can put everything away since we ran late today,” Lenora said.
“All right,” Catherine said, putting down the slate and looking even more pleased with herself. “And you’ll meet us at Hilltop Stables at two o’clock?”
Lenora kept her eyes on Catherine so she would not see the discomfort on the face of her uncle. “Yes, I will.”
Lenora had hoped it would rain, therefore canceling the riding excursion. So, of course she woke up to bright blue skies and crisp autumn sunshi
ne. She walked to Hilltop Stables, but had been so nervous that she’d left earlier than necessary and arrived at 1:30. She walked around the corrals as she waited, petting the muzzles of a few horses that approached her and then feeding them some small apples the groom provided her.
She’d had little opportunity to interact with any type of livestock since leaving Leagrave and was filled with nostalgia for home. She missed the simple country life; if she were perfectly honest, she missed the chance to hide. Though she was glad to have grown so much here in Bath, it was difficult not to long for the protection of her former life. She stroked the muzzle of a beautiful butter-colored mare, the same color of the famous Bath stone used for so many buildings in this part of the country.
“Miss Wilton.”
Lenora startled and spun around, upsetting the horse, which ran to the other side of the corral. Mr. Asher stood a few feet away from her, looking handsome in his buff-colored riding breaches and short coat. “You’ve had a haircut,” she said without thinking, then colored. Where had such a comment come from? Except that he had received a haircut since she’d seen him yesterday. It was cut closer to his head, and, though she missed the devil-may-care of the longer hair, this style looked more distinguished.
He smiled. “You are the first to notice, but, yes. When I found myself tucking it into my collar, I decided I ought to have a trim.”
They were silent, and Lenora realized it was her turn to speak. “It looks well on you, Mr. Asher.” She looked past him for Catherine and Miss Keighly.
Mr. Asher seemed to interpret her glance. “The groom led them to the east corral to choose their mounts.” He nodded to the corral behind her. “He directed me to this one; apparently, these horses are better appointed for a grown man.” He shrugged, as though hesitant to accept such a distinction. It was quite adorable, but she refused to let herself dwell on the thought.
“Well, then, perhaps I should get direction from a groom on my own mount.”
“He said to have you go to the east corral as well. He’ll wait on you and saddle the mount.”
“Very good,” she said, lowering her head and stepping to go around him. It was difficult to be close to him. As she passed beside him, he reached out and touched her arm. The merest feather-light touch, but enough to stop her and fill her with warmth. She looked at his hand, resting gently at her elbow, and then up to his face. Close enough to steal a kiss, she thought, but of course she wouldn’t. She’d done that once before, and it had ended in disaster.
“Thank you for accompanying Catherine today. It shows your devotion to her, and I appreciate it very much.”
She could not speak for the lump that rose in her throat at his sincerity.
“Of course,” she said, then gently stepped forward and out of reach. She did not want to throw off his hand, but she could not abide his touch for much longer. Already her heart was racing in her chest.
He nodded and stepped back. She took a breath and let it out slowly as she made her way to the east corrals.
Catherine was already on her mount, a concentrated expression on her face as the groom adjusted the single stirrup for the sidesaddle. Lenora was comfortable on both a sidesaddle and gentleman’s saddle, but she had first learned to ride bareback and preferred it whenever possible—which wasn’t often since she was now a grown woman. Today would be a sidesaddle, of course.
Miss Keighly and Catherine were both dressed in beautiful riding habits. Miss Keighly’s was a light gold color with black trim and matching bonnet. Catherine’s was lavender with silver military trim down the front and at the cuffs. Lenora lamented that she only had her striped day dress—she’d never owned a riding habit—but she had worn additional petticoats to cover her ankles for the ride. She approached the others with a smile she hoped looked more natural than it felt.
“Miss Wilton!” Catherine said, and her excitement to see Lenora helped to ease Lenora’s rising anxiety even as she touched the corral fence, petted the horse that approached her, and pressed one hand against the side of her leg to help calm her. She hated how often she had to resort to her tricks, and yet it was getting better. This was the first time in nearly a week that she’d needed to ground herself.
“Good afternoon, Catherine. You look lovely in your riding habit.”
Catherine straightened in her saddle and grinned. Her horse sidestepped, and as she turned her mount, Miss Keighly clicked her horse to turn toward Lenora. “I am pleased to see you again, Miss Wilton.”
“As am I to see you,” Lenora said with a nod, chastising herself for disliking this woman. There was no reason not to like her other than Lenora’s envy, which did her no credit. If she were determined to be better for the whole of this experience, she needed to dispose of such petty feelings.
Miss Keighly opened her mouth to say something more, but the groom approached at that moment, holding the reins of two horses. He introduced the butter-colored mare Lenora had petted earlier, as well as a dark chocolate-colored gelding—a truly magnificent animal, likely retired from racing but still a solid animal for riding.
“The gentleman said you were an experienced rider, miss. I recommend one of these two animals—either Miss Devonshire or Tartan.”
Lenora looked between them, and although part of her wanted to choose the striking thoroughbred, her heart had been captured by Miss Devonshire. She moved to take the reins from him, and though the groom looked momentarily perplexed, he nodded and led the thoroughbred away. He returned a short time later with a sidesaddle, putting it on remarkably fast, giving the girth an extra tightening before holding out the whip. Lenora took the whip, thanked him, and turned to the saddle.
“Might I assist you, miss?”
“No, thank you,” Lenora said, feeling the need to prove herself capable. It was a benefit not to have the heavy riding habit when mounting a sidesaddle without assistance. She moved the whip to her left hand, steadying the stirrup iron, and hoisted herself up with her left foot. Despite not having ridden for months, maybe years, she expertly found her seat and adjusted the stirrup before spreading her skirts over her legs as best she could. An inch or two of ankle was left uncovered, but she’d done the best she could.
She looked up to see Miss Keighly watching, but she looked away quickly and patted her mount on the head. The flash of disapproval or envy or maybe just surprise was oddly satisfying.
Catherine was walking her horse in a circle, and Lenora clicked her horse to move closer to her. She was determined to keep herself in Catherine’s company. Though she’d arrived at the stables wondering how she would possibly get through the afternoon, between Miss Keighly’s reaction to her mounting without help and the freedom of being on horseback, she was feeling much more comfortable. At least until Mr. Asher joined the three women, then every one of her senses was honed and on alert.
Lenora kept herself on the other side of Catherine as the groom pointed out the various trails and gave basic instructions.
Mr. Asher and Miss Keighly led out. Lenora purposely allowed her horse to fall behind, and Catherine stayed with her. Lenora asked Catherine about when she’d learned to ride, and as Catherine told her the story, Lenora realized it was the first time she’d learned of something from Catherine’s childhood that was not sad. After a time, Catherine asked Lenora about her childhood, and Lenora was surprisingly comfortable relaying her own story.
“Five sisters and two brothers?” Catherine said with awe. “I cannot imagine it. Did you enjoy having so many sisters?”
“They were my best friends,” Lenora said wistfully. She really did miss her family, especially lately. “My only friends, really.”
Catherine considered this. “I think I would have liked to have brothers and sisters.”
Lenora felt a pang of sadness at the thought of Catherine being so alone in the world. Orphaned and unwanted, not even siblings to belong to. Lenora could not im
agine such loneliness. They rode in silence until Catherine pointed out a rabbit hiding in the brush, changing the subject.
They rode another half an hour before Miss Keighly and Mr. Asher came back toward them on the path. Catherine and Lenora moved their mounts to the side to allow the others to pass, then turned and followed them back to the stables, once again allowing the engaged couple to take the lead.
By the end of the ride, Lenora was pleased with how things had unfolded. Mr. Asher had been polite, he had not sought her out, and she’d gotten to know Catherine better. Quite a lovely afternoon. They dismounted—Lenora by herself again, feeling very accomplished by her self-sufficiency. She felt Mr. Asher’s eyes on her.
“Miss Wilton, I’ve a carriage coming in”—he checked his watch—“quarter of an hour. Would you like to join us for the ride back to the city?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Asher,” she said, still holding the bridle of her horse as she stroked the mare’s neck. “I appreciate the invitation, but the day is fine enough.” She looked up, only then noticing the sky was no longer the bright blue it had been when she’d first set out for the stables. Clouds had set in throughout the afternoon, and some darker ones lay in wait to the west. Still, she would rather walk in the rain than be in a carriage with Miss Keighly and Mr. Asher.
Mr. Asher did not leave. She did not acknowledge him and, instead, led her horse to the groom who was unsaddling the first of the other horses.
“Might I curry Miss Devonshire?”
“Certainly. I can untack her first.”
“No, I shall do it, if that is all right.”
“Yes, miss.” He left the other three horses long enough to show Lenora the equipment, then attached a lead rope to Miss Devonshire’s bridle before turning the mare over to Lenora.
Lenora thanked him, excited to be busy with a task she had enjoyed back in Leagrave.
She led Miss Devonshire to the bucket of water hung on a post the groom had pointed out, then spoke soothingly to her as she began removing the tack. She was struggling to lift the saddle when a pair of hands reached from the side to help her. The saddle wasn’t particularly heavy, but the horse’s height made it awkward. She turned to smile at who she assumed was the groom, then froze to see Mr. Asher instead. He moved the saddle to the rail, and Lenora watched him until he looked back at her, then she proceeded to remove the blanket. “Thank you,” she said.
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