“I am most puzzled. I have seen you mount a horse with no assistance and no block, a difficult undertaking for one of your slight stature. How did you manage such a maneuver?”
She shrugged. “I placed one foot in the stirrup, bent low, and leaped.”
“Very well, then. Now, imagine you are mounting a horse, but the stirrup reaches the ground. Slide one foot backward as if gathering to leap, descend as you would normally, but maintain your eyes to where your raised foot might otherwise be. However, rather than leaping, simply rise slowly to your former position.”
She squinted at him with skepticism, perhaps waiting for the rest of the joke. When his expression failed to alter, she shrugged again and did as he suggested. She descended with her head bowed, watching the space before her waist, and then rose.
“Why, Lucy,” said Charlotte, “that was nearly flawless.”
Lucy’s doubt appeared to fade slightly, but she trained her eyes on him to await his reaction. A proud smile crawled across his face. “I believe I have witnessed the perfect curtsy.”
…
Later that afternoon, Lucy slipped away to the privacy of the study to practice her curtsy. Bow, descend, rise, bow, descend, rise—over and over until she lost track of time.
“Much improved.”
She emitted a startled cry and whirled to find Henry leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed and an I-caught-you smile curling his lips. How long had he been watching?
“Have you no better business than to creep about spying on others?”
“Apparently not, although I take exception to your characterization. I am not spying, and I am most certainly not creeping. You, however, appear to be hiding, which might suggest guilt or shame. Have you been misbehaving, Miss Locket?”
“Apparently, but only in the eyes of those who make nonsensical rules.”
He dipped his head. “I will grant you that point, but only if you agree to a proposal.”
“My agreement depends on the nature of the proposal.”
He leaned away from the doorframe to stand. “I suggest we take a walk to discuss status and strategy. Charlotte’s maid has agreed to chaperone.”
Lucy clenched her fists, suddenly unnerved. Other than the brief encounter on the grounds, she had not been entirely alone with Henry since those first days on the run when only hostile words had passed between them. Since then, however, everything had changed. She did not know quite when it had happened or the extent of the change, but the difference left her hopeful, bewildered, and uneasy.
“Very well. However, if this suggestion is a thinly veiled attempt to compromise me, I shall be forced to claw out your left eye. Griff, a street boxer from Bristol, showed me how to do it, so I do not bluff.”
He chuckled. “Sadly, I believe you. In the interest of retaining my eyesight, I will abide by your rule.”
When she returned to the entrance hall with him, Charlotte met her with shawl, bonnet, parasol, and motherly advice over the proper protection of one’s complexion. As Henry, the maid, and Lucy exited the house, she strongly suspected Charlotte of scheming.
Henry chose a path that meandered toward a pair of adjacent hills dotted with stands of trees. The maid trailed at an appropriate distance—near enough to watch but not too close to overhear conversation.
“So,” he said, “What is your assessment of our progress thus far?”
“A complete disaster, I would say,” she replied cheerfully.
He seemed surprised and a little wounded. “You do not find my sister helpful?”
“Oh, but I do. I meant not to insinuate that. In fact…” She paused as emotion abruptly choked her voice. “In fact, it has been a very long time since I have enjoyed such friendship. Your sister is everything you promised and more.”
Henry’s demeanor resumed its previous ease. “My heart leaps to hear you say so.”
She pondered his smile when he spoke of Charlotte. “Your sister adores you. That much is clear. And you appear to return that adoration.”
“I do. And why not? Although our family fortune did not match those of most others of our class, my sister has risen above that fact. She possesses qualities that cannot be purchased. Beauty, a good name, and grace, in that order. Beauty draws the eye, a good name draws regard, but grace draws the heart.”
A pang struck Lucy’s chest. Hearing Henry describe his sister so warmly left her with a deep sense of inadequacy. He appeared to notice her unease and changed the subject. “If I might be so bold, may I ask if you miss your former life in Dartmoor?”
He seemed to hold his breath waiting for a response. She eyed him as they walked. “I do.”
When his face clouded, she strove to explain. “Some things, anyway. I do not miss the loneliness. The lack of friends my age, the long winters of isolation, the absence of family.”
Despite her best efforts, she failed to prevent bitterness from tainting her response.
“I am sorry for what happened to you,” he said.
She was grateful for his pity but did not wish any more of it. “However, I miss the silence of the place where my thoughts could roam untethered. I miss the routine of caring for the house and animals. I miss Gerta Plumlee, the kind older woman who supplied the house and cooked our meals. I even miss…”
“You miss what?” he asked after she hesitated.
“I even miss Steadman.”
“The man who abducted you? You miss him?”
She nodded. “I should hate him for what he took from me. However, he raised me as a daughter, saw to my education, and imbued me with strength. He treated me with utmost propriety, and I am quite certain he would have laid down his life to save mine. He is far more than what he seems, Mr. Beaumont, despite his apparent nature.”
Henry chuckled again. “You appear to describe a particular person of my acquaintance.”
She blushed and glanced away. The discomfort of the conversation drove her to shift the subject away from her past. “What of you? I have not heard you speak of your home in Northumberland. Is your brother the cause?”
A grim expression again chased the smile from his face, returning the stony countenance to which she had grown accustomed. She feared he might not answer the question.
“Yes,” he said at last. “James made clear his opinion that I am a lesser member of House Beaumont who should seek his future elsewhere and without assistance, financial or otherwise. This place became my home, not Northumberland. When I finished school, the cavalry seemed an acceptable alternative to begging my brother for funds.”
“Why?”