We entered through the servants’ quarters to avoid questioning. Peter was in no mood to relay the event, nor was I. He looked exhausted, as I was sure all the men were from such an early, stressful morning.
At the top of the stairs, he released me. As I walked to my room, I had the oddest desire to glance over my shoulder. My legs were weary, my eyes heavy, but my heart for some reason was alive.
I opened my door as another one closed down the hall. I hadn’t realized Peter was staying so close.
“Miss Moore, thank heavens you’re safe.” Mary pressed her hands to her chest, voice thick with anxiety. “The house has been in fits with you being out with the men this morning. When Sir Ronald burst through the door of the drawing room to tell the story of you saving that colt, Lady Demsworth liked to have had an attack. If anything had happened—”
“Mary.” I cut her off, peeling off my damp pelisse and mucky slippers. My arms were suddenly shaking, my hands trembling as though my body knew it could finally rest.
“You know that a lady ought not to interfere—”
“Mary.”
Mary’s eyes fell, and my shoulders sank. I had not meant to scold her. There was silence save for the water dripping from my skirts.
I sighed, exhausted. “Forgive me. I know you mean well, and I am sure I have caused you quite the fright. But I dearly need a bath.”
Mary smiled her motherly smile, though she was hardly older than I, and nodded. “Of course, miss. Never mind my prattle. A bath it is, and a bath you rightly deserve.”
“Amelia!” Clara burst through the door and rushed to my side. “Are you hurt? Your dress! It is ruined.” Her words were as near a reprimand as any I’d heard from her, yet still as gentle as ever. “What were you thinking going out alone? What would I have done if something had happened to you?”
“I had to help.” I shrugged, and she pulled me into an embrace.
“So I’ve been told. Sir Ronald is very grateful.” Clara drew back with a scrunched nose. “You are sopping wet.”
“Indeed. How are you, sister?”
“Well enough, though being locked inside has been miserable. I cannot bear Georgiana in the same room for more than a half hour. I fear she is more irksome than her brother.” Clara frowned and rubbed my arm. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Do not worry over me. I shall join you downstairs soon.” I tried to nudge her toward the door.
“Take your time to rest and recover,” Clara said as I closed the door behind her. After days of oversleeping, this one morning had drained my energy entirely.
Within the hour, Mary had a tub filled with warm water, and every muscle in my body sighed as I fell into it. I was still as tense as if I’d run for miles. I breathed in the freshly cut lavender leaves floating around me, soaked in the water, and let myself relax, closing my eyes and emptying my mind.
Mary let me soak for an hour before returning to help me into a peach-colored muslin dress. She had lit a fire in the hearth to dry my wet clothes and slippers. A tray of meats, cheese, and raspberries, paired with tea sat upon a small table.
I ate in silence, staring out my window at the afternoon sun drying the grass. How very unlike me to interfere in the matters of men. Would Lady Demsworth be angry with me for not only refusing to leave when Sir Ronald asked but also further demanding he oblige me? I did not regret my actions, but I could not bear to have Clara suffer for them.
I pulled on my boots and descended the grand staircase. I needed to see Lady Demsworth. I needed to know how she felt about this morning.
I heard voices from a room toward the back of the house. Instinctively, I followed the sound through an open door into the library. Bookshelves lined the walls and reached nearly to the ceiling. The ladies mingled with the men in close quarters throughout the room.
“Miss Moore!” Lady Demsworth flew across the room, encapsulating me in a suffocating embrace. “You dear, dear girl! I confess I did not even know you’d gone, but Ronald told me everything, and I am without words. What kind of hosts are we to have subjected you to such terrible circumstances?”
“The fault was mine entirely.” I drew back, and she loosened her hold. “Forgive me for interfering without permission. I had ridden Summer a few days ago and was quite taken with her. I could not bear to subject her to sorrow without doing something to help.”
Lady Demsworth squeezed my shoulders. “We are indebted to you, Miss Moore. Absolutely indebted. Summer is mine, and I thought I could love no horse greater until I met her colt.”
“I am glad I was able to be there at the right time.” I had not really done anything worth praising. I’d been most unladylike stealing Summer and riding her bareback in my morning dress, not to mention raising my voice at the man of the house and demanding the attention of four very capable men.
Lady Demsworth leaned closer, and I tilted my head. “I meant what I said, Miss Moore. If there is anything, anything, you need. Anything I can do for you or any way I can help. Please do not hesitate to ask me.”
I let each kind word sink in, leaning in to embrace her. “Thank you,” I whispered into her ear, and she tightened her arms around me.
“Of course, dear. We have grown quite attached to you and your sister here at Lakeshire Park.”
“Amelia,” Clara called as though on cue. “What rhymes with yellow?”
Lady Demsworth quickly excused me, and I fell into a chair beside Clara. “Hmm . . . cello?”
“Yes.” She giggled. “A yellow cello. That will do.”
“What game are we playing, now?” I leaned on the arm of the chair.
“We’ve paired off and must write a poem with words that rhyme with yellow,” Clara said. “You should join next round.”
After my morning, a game of silly rhymes was as unappealing as eating grass. I tuned my ear to the hushed whispers as the company, most evidently paired off in the room, giggled and scratched on their papers. Clearly, the events of the morning had already blown over, and I had little desire to bring them up again.
Without a second thought, I excused myself. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d known staying indoors was not where I wanted to be, and I was grateful I’d already put on my boots. Now all I needed was my bonnet.
Chapter Eleven
The walk to the stable was quick, the air warm and humid after the storm. Instead of entering through the main doors, I ventured around back, which was a more direct path to the horse stalls. The wide door was already opened, its latch broken and dangling, letting sunlight illuminate the otherwise darkened corners. As I entered, the scent of stale hay permeated the air, magnified with the shifting of the animals.