Lady Hathaway's House Party by Joan Smith Page A

is excellent riding at Belwood,” he said nonchalantly.
    “I believe you mentioned it in the past.”
    “I’ve improved it since then. I have had a course set up back in the pasture, with fences and ditches.”
    Belle turned with interest to hear the details of this venture, and was aware of a strong desire to try his course, which he intimated was too rigorous for a lady. “With your new mount you might manage it, though,” he finished up.
    “The one I spoke of getting, you mean?”
    “I refer to the bay mare I have for you at Belwood.” Having received a few slurs on his many gifts, he was unsure he did right to mention it, but as she had said herself she needed a new one, it seemed an appropriate gift.
    “What bay mare?”
    “One I picked up at Tatt’s after you left. That is, after you were gone to visit your father, and before I learned you didn’t intend to return. She’s a lovely thing, Belle. I got her the same time as I picked out Juno for Kay, and of course I chose the best one for you. A white star on her forehead and two white stockings on the forelegs. I’ve put her over the course myself a few times. She’s big, like Juno, and can carry my weight, but is not hard to handle. I think she is one gift you would not dislike.”
    Belle had the same feeling, and like any horse lover, was dying to see her. “What do you call her?” She felt some little spasm of guilt that while she had been planning to leave Oliver forever, he had in all innocence been shopping for a present for her. He had had no idea at all that she never meant to return.
    “As my own favorite hack is called Lancelot, I named her tentatively Guinevere, but you may call her whatever you like, of course. I hope you will accept her. I mean—whether you come back to me or not. You mentioned needing a new mount. I got her for you.”
    “I wish you wouldn’t keep buying things for me,” she said a little curtly, but it was the guilt lending a sharp edge to her words. And really, of all gifts a new mount was the most acceptable, the most likely to please. Oliver had mentioned too at Crockett that she needed a new mount, so this time he must have been thinking of her own wants and likes.
    “I know you dislike my taste, but I think in choosing a horse I am a fair judge. Will you look at her anyway—try her out?”
    This sounded simple, but in order to try her out, she must either go to Belwood, or have the horse sent to Easthill, and she doubted very much the mount would come without the donor. She turned and began walking slowly toward the bank of the river, without giving an answer.
    “Well, will you try her?” he asked, following after her.
    “How—where should I try her?” she asked. It had occurred to her that London was a good neutral territory where the gift might be given without any long visits being involved.
    “At home on the course I mentioned. Where else?” he answered immediately, shattering her hopes.
    “No, no, that’s impossible,” she said at once.
    His hopes had soared at her interest, and were sent dashing downward again. This disappointment was accompanied with a stab of anger. He grabbed her arms roughly and turned her to face him. “Can’t you at least look at me when we’re talking? Why is it impossible? Why is it impossible for you to come and at least look at your own home? How can you say I have nothing you want, when you haven’t even deigned to look at what I have?”
    “I wasn’t talking about things, Oliver! I have seen pictures of your home, and read about it in the books. I know you have a fine home, and I’m sure the mount is the best—what else would you buy, for yourself or for me? I didn’t mean that.”
    “Then what in God’s name did you mean? Is it myself you object to? I haven’t changed. You liked me well enough to marry me, less than a year ago. Have I been transmogrified into a monster since that time?”
    She pulled away and hurried on to the river, but he was right