see, Harriet said, reassuring herself as much as Lucil e.
Its perishing cold outside. Just look at the frost flowers on the windows. Here, Il put another cravat over that black one. No one wil know the difference, and at least it wil keep your neck warm.
Harriet had to make a conscious effort to pick up her feet since her boots thumped so loudly on the wooden stairs that she felt as if she were waking the whole house. Given that she had stolen off to her room around eleven in the evening, when most of the party appeared to be just starting to enjoy themselves, she would feel truly guilty to wake them.
Strange was at the bottom of the stairs. In the morning light his hair gleamed the color of dark mahogany. She was overcome by a giddy sense of exactly how much fun she was having.
He glanced up and said, I might as wel have been waiting for a woman to dress, Cope.
Good morning to you too, my lord, she said. The butler was waiting with their coats. When she had struggled into her great coat (Vil ierss tailor had padded her shoulders so that she looked more manly), Strange eyed her from head to foot.
You dont look warm enough, he said brusquely. And youre as pale as Vil iers. Wel work up a sweat soon enough.
Harriet smiled rather weakly and strode through the door. Outdoors the air was as cold as liquid ice, catching the back of her throat and emerging from her mouth in great puffs of steam.
Groomsmen were holding the reins of stamping horses. Stranges mount threw up his head in greeting. Strange said over his shoulder, Dont get your nose out of joint, youngster. I gave you a fil y, rather than a gelding, but thats not meant as a comment on your horsemanship. Shes got a beautiful stride.
A lad with a shock of white-blond hair and freckles on his nose was holding Harriets horse. Harriet walked over and held out her hand so the fil y could blow warm air into her palm. Then she pul ed on her gloves.
Lets go, Strange snapped.
He must be irritable by nature, Harriet decided. She checked the bel y strap of the horse as she watched Strange swing into the saddle. Shed seen countless men mount horses, but she never expected to ride astride herself.
Final y Harriet put her left boot into the stirrup and flung herself into the air.
Plop! She landed on the saddle and gathered the reins as if she expected to find herself there.
Strange started down the driveway without looking back, so Harriet signaled to the boy to let her horse go. He stepped aside but then said in a low voice, If youl excuse the presumption, sir, grip with your knees.
Harriet nodded in a dignified sort of way, and let her horse start picking her way down the icy path. The sun was up, and Strange was right about the light. At this hour it had a peculiar, dancing clarity that edged every blade of glass with silver. Ice crackled under her mounts feet, and hung in great dripping rows from the fence beside the road.
We can let them gal op at the end of this road, Strange shouted over his shoulder.
Gal op? When she was growing up, her mother considered horse-riding unladylike. Horses were regarded as little more than moving sofas. Riding excursions tended to be ambling trips through the woods to a picnic spot, with a groomsman leading each horse to ensure that it didnt startle. Certainly, there had been no wild gal ops down icy roads.
She slowed her horse even further, but the end of the road arrived anyway. She found her host prancing about on a caracoling horse. For Gods sake, Cope, he said, youre riding like a maiden aunt.
She scowled at him and he cocked an eyebrow. Tetchy about getting up so early? Worse and worse. Im not sure I can teach you to be a man.
You sound as if you belong to some sort of exclusive club, she retorted. As far as I can see, the definition of a man has nothing to do with whether he thinks its masculine to be out breathing ice and clopping around on a dangerously slick road.
Fear is not manly, he told her, with an insufferably
Its perishing cold outside. Just look at the frost flowers on the windows. Here, Il put another cravat over that black one. No one wil know the difference, and at least it wil keep your neck warm.
Harriet had to make a conscious effort to pick up her feet since her boots thumped so loudly on the wooden stairs that she felt as if she were waking the whole house. Given that she had stolen off to her room around eleven in the evening, when most of the party appeared to be just starting to enjoy themselves, she would feel truly guilty to wake them.
Strange was at the bottom of the stairs. In the morning light his hair gleamed the color of dark mahogany. She was overcome by a giddy sense of exactly how much fun she was having.
He glanced up and said, I might as wel have been waiting for a woman to dress, Cope.
Good morning to you too, my lord, she said. The butler was waiting with their coats. When she had struggled into her great coat (Vil ierss tailor had padded her shoulders so that she looked more manly), Strange eyed her from head to foot.
You dont look warm enough, he said brusquely. And youre as pale as Vil iers. Wel work up a sweat soon enough.
Harriet smiled rather weakly and strode through the door. Outdoors the air was as cold as liquid ice, catching the back of her throat and emerging from her mouth in great puffs of steam.
Groomsmen were holding the reins of stamping horses. Stranges mount threw up his head in greeting. Strange said over his shoulder, Dont get your nose out of joint, youngster. I gave you a fil y, rather than a gelding, but thats not meant as a comment on your horsemanship. Shes got a beautiful stride.
A lad with a shock of white-blond hair and freckles on his nose was holding Harriets horse. Harriet walked over and held out her hand so the fil y could blow warm air into her palm. Then she pul ed on her gloves.
Lets go, Strange snapped.
He must be irritable by nature, Harriet decided. She checked the bel y strap of the horse as she watched Strange swing into the saddle. Shed seen countless men mount horses, but she never expected to ride astride herself.
Final y Harriet put her left boot into the stirrup and flung herself into the air.
Plop! She landed on the saddle and gathered the reins as if she expected to find herself there.
Strange started down the driveway without looking back, so Harriet signaled to the boy to let her horse go. He stepped aside but then said in a low voice, If youl excuse the presumption, sir, grip with your knees.
Harriet nodded in a dignified sort of way, and let her horse start picking her way down the icy path. The sun was up, and Strange was right about the light. At this hour it had a peculiar, dancing clarity that edged every blade of glass with silver. Ice crackled under her mounts feet, and hung in great dripping rows from the fence beside the road.
We can let them gal op at the end of this road, Strange shouted over his shoulder.
Gal op? When she was growing up, her mother considered horse-riding unladylike. Horses were regarded as little more than moving sofas. Riding excursions tended to be ambling trips through the woods to a picnic spot, with a groomsman leading each horse to ensure that it didnt startle. Certainly, there had been no wild gal ops down icy roads.
She slowed her horse even further, but the end of the road arrived anyway. She found her host prancing about on a caracoling horse. For Gods sake, Cope, he said, youre riding like a maiden aunt.
She scowled at him and he cocked an eyebrow. Tetchy about getting up so early? Worse and worse. Im not sure I can teach you to be a man.
You sound as if you belong to some sort of exclusive club, she retorted. As far as I can see, the definition of a man has nothing to do with whether he thinks its masculine to be out breathing ice and clopping around on a dangerously slick road.
Fear is not manly, he told her, with an insufferably
Similar Books
