Apparently, the night had continued rather late for Clara and the others, as I heard not a sound even long after breakfast. Sunshine beamed brightly through a front window, and despite rain-sodden grounds, nature called to me. Clarity seemed to come in its presence, and I was in dire need of clearing my thoughts, of realigning my priorities and finally facing my own future.
Not to mention avoiding Peter. Our conversation in the stalls yesterday had left me feeling vulnerable. I’d grabbed his hand on an impulse, knowing full well that our afternoons together were no more than casual meetings to protect our sisters. And yet, I’d felt something. Something surprising. Something real. Had he felt it too?
No. Peter was invested in his duty to his sister. He kept me entertained to keep me away from Clara just as I’d done to him during our first few days here. How mortifying to have been so bold and forward. I rubbed my temples. If only I could cancel our bargain and flee from these feelings that only seemed to confuse me more, especially with an engagement on my horizon. But, now more than ever, Clara needed me to keep Peter at a distance. This time was crucial for her and Sir Ronald to make their match. Like it or not, I would have to be available later this afternoon.
“Do be careful not to muddy this,” Mary pleaded as she laid out my light-blue riding habit. “There are only so many remedies for mud stains, and I would hate for you to ruin such a lovely color.”
I offered my thanks for her concern, promising to ride only through the driest edges of the estate. Mary pinned my hair tightly in curls beneath my most fashionable hat, and I tugged on an old pair of leather riding gloves.
When I arrived at the stable house, Mr. Beckett was leading a beautiful filly back into a nearby stall.
“Excuse me, sir,” I called as I approached. “I hoped for a ride this morning.”
He looked up. “Of course, Miss Moore. I saddled Grace for Lady Demsworth, but she made other arrangements this morning. Would you care to ride her?”
“Actually, I am quite attached to Summer. Is she well?”
“A quick ride will suit her today. Just let me finish with Grace, and I shall have Summer ready for you directly.”
“I shall ride Grace.” Peter’s voice sent a tickling shock through me, and I hastily turned to meet him. He wore a brown coat and a soft smile, moving toward the filly. “That is, if Miss Moore does not mind a companion.”
Before I could speak, Mr. Beckett stepped forward. “Oh, no, not Grace, Mr. Wood. She is not keen on male riders—”
“Is that so?” Peter rubbed Grace’s nose. Obviously, he liked the idea of a challenge. “Surely I can change her mind on the matter.”
“I would not recommend it, sir.” Mr. Beckett’s face grew serious. “She’s known to buck and cause injury.”
Peter stole the reins from Mr. Beckett’s hands, a look of confidence in his eyes. “Perhaps Grace has yet to meet her match.”
Mr. Beckett saddled Summer while Peter switched the sidesaddle on Grace.
“Does this account for our afternoon, then?” I raised a brow at him.
“I intend to keep you out all afternoon, so yes,” he said as he tightened the leather straps.
I sighed. This was exactly why people were beginning to talk. How would it look if Peter and I were found on a long ride together? Would they assume we pined after each other? That we held a shared affection? The idea was absurd. And yet . . . Peter’s voice, his very presence reeled me in like a fish caught on a hook. I wanted to be near him. What did that mean?
More, what did it matter? I stopped, waiting by Mr. Beckett and the mounting block. I could not entertain this feeling growing within me, whatever it was. I was as good as engaged to Mr. Pendleton. I needed to be. Besides, Peter had said himself the only reason he desired my company was to ensure I kept from encouraging my sister. Regardless of his persistence, that was all he cared about.
Settling atop Summer, I brushed through her golden mane with my fingers. I grasped the leather reins and patted her neck before urging her into a slow walk beside Peter and Grace.
A few moments passed, and the stables shrank behind us.
“Were you sneaking away again?” Peter asked.
I shrugged. “Sometimes I prefer the solitude.” Especially when I needed time to think.
“I can relate to that. I quite enjoy getting lost in the middle of nowhere.”
Summer whinnied her agreement, and Peter and I laughed.
I took a deep breath of grass and earth and wind.
“What a lovely view,” Peter observed, expressing my very thought. His appreciation for nature, the way his eyes soaked up the scene before us, enticed me to relax and enjoy it as well. The afternoon was too good to waste on thoughts of my future. I would push all thoughts of Mr. Pendleton and Lord Gray out of my mind. Here, now, I would live in the present.
Unbelievably, Grace rode calm and neutral under Peter’s hand; even Mr. Beckett registered shock at the miracle as he followed behind us as chaperone.
Peter and I rode along the west pasture where green grass and weeds with tiny yellow and purple flowers painted the scene. The earth sank beneath the horse’s hooves, the ground still damp and muddy from the storm. I caught my breath at the beauty of the sky above the open fields. The clear blue vastness opened my chest, liberating my heart from the constricting weight of my circumstances. Oh, to be as free as the wind, as limitless as the sky, as luxurious as the sun! I felt so complete in the open pasture beyond Sir Ronald’s estate, and I never wanted it to end.
Peter swerved right, nearly knocking into Summer and me.
“Whoa, girl,” he said to Grace, pulling back on the reins. “Don’t turn on me now.”
A tinge of anxiety pinched my brow. We’d only been riding for a quarter hour. How long would Grace last? “Perhaps she is bored. Shall we try it at a run?” I asked.
“Yes, thank you.” Peter gave Grace her head, glancing nervously at Summer, who, to my great surprise, bolted right after her.
The wind rushed past me with Summer in full gallop, and I imagined at any moment the breeze would lift me up and carry me away. The further we escaped, the greener the landscape became. Suddenly, I understood Peter’s earlier sentiment of being lost in the middle of nowhere.
Slowing, I dropped Summer’s reins and reached toward the clouds. Out here, nothing mattered. Out here, I was free. Peter slowed beside me, and I hugged Summer’s neck, my cheeks warm with a new energy pulsing through my veins.
Peter stared at me, a strange hitch in his own breath, as if air had been caught in his lungs.
“What is it?” I sat up, searching his brightened eyes.
“You.” He locked his eyes on mine. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Amelia Moore.” Sincerity laced his words, and a tingling spread within my chest.