Glancing out the window the next morning, Sophia reveled in the bright pinks and purples of the dawn that foretold the day would be fair and cold, and therefore perfect for a ride if the wind didn’t kick up. Humming a tune from the dancing last night, she could hardly hold still as Evans fastened her into her favorite ensemble, a deep red, wool riding habit. She turned this way and that, studying her image in the mirror. She relished the bold color and hoped Lord Ashurst thought her dashing in it. The maid carefully placed the shallow-crowned, black riding hat on her head, and Sophia grabbed her crop and hurried from the room. She didn’t want to keep Lord Ashurst waiting.
Half-boots clattering on the stairs, Sophia sailed down the steps, almost colliding with his lordship, who stood awaiting her at the bottom step, looking stylish himself in buff and blue.
“Good morning, Lady Sophia.” His warm voice greeted her as he offered his arm. “You are eager for our ride, I see.”
“I am, my lord.” Happiness bubbled up in her, almost as strongly as the first time she’d been put on a horse. Morning rides were the best part of the day. Doubly so with this handsome and exciting gentleman at her side. “Shall we seize the day while the sun is actually shining?”
“Without a doubt. A rare occurrence this time of year, I grant you.” Pleasant laughter in his deep baritone voice raised her spirits even higher. Never in the three years since her come out had she taken such enjoyment in a ride with a gentleman.
The grooms holding their mounts gave them a leg up and soon Sophia was settled in the side saddle, skirt draped demurely over her legs and an inch or two of her shiny black boots peeping out from beneath the bright habit. She gathered the reins and looked to Lord Ashurst. “Lead the way, my lord.”
He urged his mount forward down the graveled driveway at a trot then broke into a canter once they reached the main road. Riding behind him, she could study his form at length and quickly determined she liked what she saw. Lord Ashurst sat his horse as well as any man she’d ever seen. Back straight and well-aligned, heels down in the stirrups, reins in a relaxed fist, he seemed almost one with his mount. The way a gentleman was supposed to ride. During the past Season, she’d given up riding with gentlemen as they never measured up to her personal standards of horsemanship.
A smile spread over her face, and she urged Annabelle to greater speed. Somehow, she’d known Ashurst would be different. His bay stallion was the perfect mount for him, tall with a good chest and a sweeping stride that ate up the ground quickly.
“We’ve about a mile to go now,” he called back over his shoulder. “Why don’t we stretch our legs?” Without a backward glance, he nudged the horse lightly with his heel, and horse and rider shot away as if fired from a cannon, canter turning immediately into a fast gallop.
“Right, my lord.” Grinning, Sophia touched Annabelle, her four-year-old black mare, and they darted forward in quick pursuit. The exhilaration of speed always dazzled Sophia. She lifted her chin to better feel the wind on her face as she raced to catch up. Laughing, she easily pulled even with them, however did not press her mount for greater speed. That she had proved to Ashurst she could match him pace for pace was enough.
A surreptitious look at him showed him smiling as well, which greatly pleased her. A man who enjoyed riding and did it well would always hold a strong attraction for her. Pray God Grandmamma had taken that into consideration in her selection.
Ashurst struck out toward the left, and a huge hill rose into view. Bolton’s bench, the grave of the dragon in Lord Ashurst’s tale. She’d never visited this property and therefore had not known of the legend. Perhaps that was to the good. Discovering a new place with a handsome gentleman had a lovely, adventuresome appeal.
They slowed their mounts as the climb became sharper. Up and up they went, at a walk now, heading for a splendid yew tree—they symbol of Sir Maurice Berkley, the dragon slayer. Spectacular views surrounded them on every side; breathtaking, as the county lay at their feet.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Lord Ashurst slid to the ground and tossed his reins to the groom, who just managed to vault off his horse in time to catch them. Ashurst crossed to Annabelle. “Let me help you down.”
Much as she wanted to walk about this unearthly place with Ashurst, her early training roared in her ears. Never walk alone with a man not your betrothed or husband. When riding, do not dismount until you arrive back at home. Oh, but she wanted to disregard those instructions so badly. “I should remain mounted, my lord.”
“The groom is right here, and I’m hardly going to debauch you in the open air on a very chilly morning.” A quick grin and a gleam of challenge from those spellbinding green eyes and Sophia’s mettle wouldn’t let her refuse. Unhooking her leg from the saddle horn, she slid onto the ground.
Or tried to.
Perhaps nervousness caused her to land poorly, so she literally fell into him, her body pressed for one exquisite moment to his rock-hard torso. The instant seemed eternal—or at the least long enough to discover firm muscles from chest to thighs, not to mention the steely arms that righted her and put her gently from him.
Flustered and trying to hide it, Sophia struck out for the ancient yew tree, its huge knobbly trunk looking as though an elf or leprechaun might bound up out of it. “The view is exquisite, my lord. I had no idea.”
“I’ve been coming here since I was a lad. My primary property lies to the west of Lyndhurst. I played all over the area when I was a boy, fighting the dragon and dying just like Sir Maurice.” He struck a dramatic pose, back of hand to forehead, staggered a few steps, and collapsed to the ground.
Giggling, Sophia bent over him. “Certainly a dream spot for any boy with a keen imagination.” She straightened and moved toward the tree.
“Just so.” He leaped up, brushing grass from his breeches, and followed her. “I have hopes my son will do the same here one day.”
“I hope he will, my lord.” Sophia ran her hand over the rough bark, almost a caress. “I am sure your son will prove a brave and charming knight, just like his father.”
“All I need is a maiden in distress to save to make this the perfect outing.” His gaze took her in, as though he would never tire of looking at her. “Unfortunately, I fear you are not such a maiden. You sit a horse extremely well, Lady Sophia. Not many ladies could have kept up with my pace here. Something told me you would.”
“Riding is my passion, my lord. Perhaps the most important thing in my life.” Step by slow step, she walked around the base of the vast tree trunk.
“Why would you say that, my lady?” He matched her strides, although he remained just behind her, as if in subtle pursuit.
“Because when I ride, my lord,” she turned to look over her shoulder at him, “I feel that I command my own destiny. I may have a groom or a chaperone, but I control my horse, what I do, where I go. I have a power beneath me that answers to no one but me alone.” Raising her chin, she turned abruptly and stared into his eyes. “Something women are rarely able to achieve.”
“That is true.” He rubbed his lips thoughtfully. “I do take your point.” Offering his arm, he nodded deferentially.
After a slight pause, she lowered her gaze and took it.
“If we walk around the top of the mound, you can see three counties,” he said, smoothly changing the subject.
They strolled around the Bench, Ashurst taking the role of tour guide, informing her of many interesting facts about Lyndhurst, Bisturne, Dragon Fields, and the general flora and fauna of the area. He seemed to know everything there was to know about the community.
“Oh, look how the clouds have darkened this field there, just to your left.” Sophia pointed to a small part of the scenery, a field where shadow and light were suddenly brought into sharp juxtaposition. “It’s like a painting by Turner, all darkness with a ray of sunlight piercing through to illuminate the most important thing.” Enraptured, she clasped her hand before her bosom. “I adore Mr. Turner’s works.”
“I confess I do not know much of Turner, although what I have seen I admire very much.” He turned his gaze on the field once more. “I believe you are correct. This could be a study for one of his works.” With a chuckle, he started them back toward the horses. “I fear I am hardly the best person to assess true genius in a painting. I like Turner, I see his point, but do not ask me to articulate it.” His gentle grin set her heart to beating faster. “I prefer to speak at length about architecture. That is a subject with which I could bore you to tears in record time.”
“Nonsense, my lord.” Tossing her head, Sophia pulled him over to the ancient wooden bench beneath the immense spreading yew. “What does architecture have to do with Bolton’s Bench?”
“Not a thing really.” They sat quietly as the groom walked the three horses, being careful to keep them well away from the yew. “I simply enjoy studying the architecture of mid-eighteenth-century farm houses. You can see several splendid examples from here.”
“Has it long been a passion of yours?”
“Since I went to Eton. After seeing the marvelous buildings there, I visited every museum I could, as well as all the great churches in London, the cathedrals in Winchester and Canterbury.” The grin continued. “I could go on and on, as I warned you.”
“And when you lived abroad?” Sophia held her breath. She loved nothing more than to hear tales of traveling in exotic countries. Longing all her life to visit faraway lands, she’d found the next best thing was listening to tales of travelers. Anywhere different from what she’d known all her life. Even a place as tame as Lyndhurst or Bolton’s Bench could be magical because it was new to her.
A shadow passed over Lord Ashurst’s face, and he stiffened. “After a while, I did force myself to explore and appreciate the architecture in Paris once more. The churches mostly, to begin with.”
Sophia bit her lip but tried not to show her discomposure. Of course he wouldn’t have been touring about. Immediately after her death, he would’ve been in mourning for his wife, the reason for his journey in the first place.
“Bit by bit, I sought out other structures, some that had been in Paris since the days of the Romans.” His smile returned. “That was the year I removed to Italy.”
“Italy!” Sophia bounded up, a new hunger erupting within her. “Father has several travel books with accounts from travelers who’ve been to Venice and Rome. He himself visited Rome on his Grand Tour and has told me of it many times. Did you go to Rome as well?”
A slow smile spread across Lord Ashurst’s face as he walked them toward the southern edge of the mound. From this vantage point, she could see all the way to the town of Frisk, more than three miles away. Would that she could see all the way to Rome itself.
“I did indeed, my lady. I journeyed down from Paris, through the Alps as is often done on a Grand Tour. Once I arrived in Italy, I started at the top of the boot and worked my way down, crisscrossing it, finding every little town that even had a piece of a wall built by the Romans still in existence. They truly were marvelous architects and builders.” His eyes shone with a fervor she well recognized.
A fervor she’d experienced each time she visited a museum or art gallery and drank in the glory of a Rubens or Michelangelo. If only she could go to Italy. “My dream is to visit Rome and see the paintings in the Sistine Chapel.”
A thoughtful look crossed his face, brows furrowed slightly. He opened his mouth to speak then hesitated before saying, “I am certain you will see it one day, my lady. It is a wonder to behold, I assure you.”
“Father visited there on his tour and has told me of it several times.” Sophia pursed her lips. Father’s account of the Sistine Chapel left much to be desired. “However, it was many years ago, and he said he was paying more attention to a young woman at the time.”
Lord Ashurst chuckled. “I can imagine that would be a distraction. Perhaps your husband will take you there on your wedding trip.” He peered at her so intently she almost expected him to ask her to go with him.
The idea startled her so badly she dropped his arm and moved back toward the horses. Had Lord Ashurst been about to make a declaration? Had he almost proposed to her? A stunning thought popped into her mind. Could he be Grandmamma’s choice? Such a selection made great sense. His lordship had just returned to Society. Grandmamma would’ve known—as she always did—that he needed a wife as desperately as Sophia needed a husband and would have spoken to him. Was it so difficult to imagine, then, that he would wish to take her to Italy now that he knew how she longed to see it?
Trembling all over from a wild mixture of cold and excitement, Sophia headed swiftly toward Annabelle. She must return home and query her father once more. If he knew anything of Grandmamma’s choice, Sophia would wheedle it out of him.
“Are you quite well, Lady Sophia?” A frown marred his handsome face as he caught up to her.
“Oh, yes, my lord.” She flashed him a much warmer smile than before. This could very well be the man with whom she was destined to spend the rest of her life. A more pleasing prospect had never occurred to her. “But the sun is high now, and I think we will not want to miss our breakfast.” She touched his arm lightly, and a thrill of heat shot through her gloved hand. “We can breakfast together, and you can tell me more of Italy.” A sidelong glance showed avid interest in her plan. “I would love to hear everything you can tell me in preparation for my own trip—if I can persuade my husband to take me, as you suggested.”
“I would love nothing better than to do so, my lady.” He cupped his hands and boosted her into the saddle.
As he mounted his own stallion, she pondered his last words with growing confusion. Had he been speaking of a trip to Italy or breakfast?
She gathered the reins and they set out for the manor house, Sophia more determined than ever to discover his meaning.