“Do you know anything about the castle, Miss Marshall?” Helen asked in a rather desperate attempt to distract her. “Have you visited it before?”
“Oh, no, I’ve never visited anywhere near here before. But I did read a little about the castle before we came.”
Helen hid her surprise, and had to keep doing so while Anne entertained the children with amusing myths about the castle’s origins and stirring tales of its defense and betrayal during the civil war. The children listened, alternately laughing and rapt, and the mare, no longer the center of Anne’s nervous attention, quieted down.
Until Sir Marcus fell back to pass on the news that they were close to the castle. As soon as Anne saw he was waiting for them, her hands tightened convulsively on the reins. The mare snorted, tossing her head in annoyance, and swerved to the right. Sir Marcus broke off, frowning in Anne’s direction, and without further warning, the mare bolted.
Helen and Richard, on either side of her, both lunged to grasp the mare’s head, but she’d grown wise to them and moved too fast, veering off the path altogether, and galloping across country with Anne clinging to her back.
Helen had to allow that Sir Marcus possessed fast reactions. Before anyone else could even think, he’d kicked his horse into a gallop after the bolting one. Of course, he didn’t realize that his effect on Anne was liable to make matters worse. And if Anne managed not to take the nasty fall that seemed inevitable, who knew where she and Sir Marcus would end up, unchaperoned and at the mercy of malicious gossip.
“Richard, stay with the children!” Helen called over her shoulder, already urging her obedient mount after the fleeing pair.
At any moment, she expected to see Anne thrown to the ground and only prayed she would not be too badly hurt. However, Sir Marcus gained on Anne with every stride, and although the mare strove to evade him, he reached out while traveling at full tilt, seized the bridle and slowed, forcing the skittish mare to do the same.
Somehow, Anne was still clinging to the animal’s mane.
Sir Marcus spoke soothingly to the mare, dismounting without releasing her.
“Miss Marshall, are you hurt?” Helen demanded, reining in breathlessly beside them.
Anne emitted a whimper.
“You had better come down from there,” Sir Marcus said, not unkindly, but in his usual abrupt manner. He reached up to lift Anne down, but she, trembling and mortified, blurted, “No, no, I’ll never get back up!”
“You won’t need to,” Helen said, dismounting, too, while Sir Marcus all but plucked the frightened girl from the saddle and set her on the ground. “We shall just swap as we always intended.”
Anne flung herself into Helen’s arms, clutching her convulsively. “I thought it was going to kill me! I’ve never been so frightened in my life!”
“Trouble is, the mare knew it,” Sir Marcus observed, stroking the perverse creature’s nose. “But there, no harm was done.” He bent, examining the mare’s legs for any injury.
Helen, feeling he might have shown more care for Anne, frowned at him. He appeared oblivious.
“What would you like to do?” she asked Anne. “Do you want to go back to Steynings?”
Anne’s eyes widened in fresh alarm. “Oh, no! I would be in such… That is, I cannot go back yet! Perhaps I could just sit here until you come back.”
“You’ll freeze,” Sir Marcus said brutally.
“Besides,” Helen added, glowering at him, “we couldn’t leave you alone.”
Anne’s breath caught, a mute plea in her eyes.
“I can’t,” Helen said. “I’m supposed to be with the children.”
“Besides which, there’s even less point in both of you freezing,” Sir Marcus observed.
“You are quite right,” Anne murmured with a timid glance at him before her desperate eyes slid away.
“The mare is quite calm now,” he said bracingly.
“Yes, but I think Miss Marshall should have my mount,” Helen said. “He’s much gentler and easier to manage for someone who does not ride much.”
“Who on earth picked the mare for you?” Sir Marcus demanded.
“Papa,” Anne replied. “He likes me to try.”
Sir Marcus frowned. “Does he, by God?”
Although Helen shared his indignation, it was clear to her from Anne’s face that the girl thought his anger was against her.
“I did not try hard enough,” she whispered.
“Nonsense,” Helen said. “You simply were not taught enough. Come, we had better rejoin the others.”
“But I cannot mount without a block,” Anne stated.
Without a word, Sir Marcus simply picked her up and set her in the saddle, handing her the reins. He didn’t appear to notice her fiery blush.
Hastily, Helen pushed Anne’s feet into the stirrups. “He’ll be good as gold for you.”
“What about you?” Sir Marcus asked her, handing her the reins of the skittish mare. “Are you up to handling this little beast?”
“I hope so!”
Without fuss, he threaded his hands for her to step into and threw her into the saddle. The mare immediately bridled, but Helen held on to her head and instructed her coolly to trot on. The mare snorted and obeyed with a few side swerves and dances until she worked out it made no difference to the implacable hands holding the reins.
Anne rode warily beside her while Sir Marcus brought up the rear, and they rejoined the rest of the concerned party.
“Oh, the mare took fright at something,” Helen explained without strict regard to truth. No one argued with her. “But Sir Marcus saved the day!”
Sir Marcus emitted a sound like a snort of derision, and Anne hastily fell back with Helen and the children.
“Oh, dear,” Anne murmured. “He must be really angry with me!”
“Who, Sir Marcus? Why should he be?”
“I caused all this trouble, and he had so little patience with me even before I proved such a poor rider.”
“Sir Marcus has little patience with anyone,” Helen said, regarding her curiously. “Forgive me, but why are you so concerned for his opinion?”
Anne blushed again, shifting in the saddle in a way that would have had the mare rearing under her. “It is not I but my parents who wish his good opinion,” she muttered. “They want me to marry well.”
Helen had suspected as much last night and had to bite her tongue. “And Sir Marcus? Has he given any indication of…partiality?”
“Apparently he said something to Mama,” Anne whispered. “But to me, he is very abrupt, and he frowns at me. I cannot think why he might want to marry someone who annoys him so.”
Helen forced herself to look at Anne afresh. Despite her childishness, she was very pretty, with her dark ringlets framing a delicate, fine-boned face beneath just a hint of puppy fat. Some men apparently liked young wives who were more malleable. The thought made her lip curl.
Forcing herself, she said, “I don’t believe you do annoy him. It is just his manner to everyone. He is actually quite kind and witty, which you would be able to appreciate if only you could put the thought of marriage out of your head when you speak to him.”