The chestnut stallion stood with regal grace, its muscular form a testament to strength and agility. Its coat, a rich chestnut hue, shimmered with a healthy sheen under the soft glow of stable lights. A proud head, adorned with a flowing mane, held high with an air of noble confidence. Powerful legs, sturdy and well-defined, suggested an animal accustomed to both grace and strength.
However, despite her fascination with this animal, she had not ridden him yet. She didn’t dare to do so, before asking Alexander for permission, something that would require for her to actually speak to him, something she was not keen on doing after he had scolded her regarding the changes around the estate.
That was why, for the time being, she was content merely combing the graceful creature, as she hummed a soft tune. At that moment, the tranquility was shattered by the sudden sound of footsteps. She looked behind her, only to lock eyes with Alexander. The imposing figure, dressed in the tailored elegance of a gentleman, framed the entrance to the stables. His arrival seemed to send a ripple through the air, momentarily disrupting the serenity that had enveloped Phyllis.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked, his voice a resonant timbre that cut through the stable’s hushed ambiance.
Caught off guard, Phyllis turned, her eyes meeting his with a mix of surprise and curiosity. The comb lingered in mid-air, the horse’s mane momentarily forgotten.
“Of course not,” she said, putting the comb down.
He walked over to the horse, petting it’s muzzle. The horse neighed softly in response.
“Is this fellow the one you like?” he asked her.
She smiled, with a nod. “Is he yours?”
“No,” Alexander shook his head, pointing at another horse in the corner. “But Hyacinth is.”
The elegant mare who recognized the calling of her name, stood gracefully in her stall, a vision of equine beauty. Her coat, a lustrous shade of midnight black, glistened under the ambient light, resembling the rich velvet of a moonlit sky. A fine dusting of stardust-like speckles added a touch of celestial magic, creating a captivating illusion as if the very heavens had bestowed their radiance upon her.
Her head, refined and expressive, featured a delicate profile marked by large, soulful eyes that sparkled with a blend of intelligence and gentle curiosity. A flowing mane, ebony waves cascading down her neck, added an ethereal quality to her presence. Each strand seemed to catch the light, creating an illusion of obsidian silk that danced in the breeze. As she shifted her weight, the occasional swish of her tail added a touch of fluid grace to her movements.
“She is lovely,” Phyllis agreed, in awe of both horses.
He nodded. “I have had her she since was but a little foal.” He approached the mare, and surprisingly, she rested her cheek against Alexander. He closed his eyes only for a moment, but even this flicker of a second was enough for Phyllis to capture this tender moment between the duke and his favorite animal.
“You know, I can’t remember when was the last time I took her riding,” he pondered loudly, glancing over at Phyllis. “How would you and Rain like to join us for a ride through the estate grounds?”
“Rain?” she smiled, caressing the animal. “Adequate.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded her.
“Now?” Phyllis was caught off guard by this sudden proposition, only acknowledging it now.
“Yes,” he smiled. “Unless… you have more important business to tend to.”
“No, no,” she shook her head, quickly wiping her clammy palms against her gown. “I would love to go for a ride.”
A twinkle in his eye awakened the competitive spirit of them both. “You do know how to ride, don’t you?”
“Do I?” She could sense that playfulness in his voice, and somehow, she wanted to reciprocate in the same manner.
“Your father has told me about your embroidery and love of books, but not your riding skills,” Alexander pointed out.
“Father does not think that it is a pastime adequate for a young lady,” she revealed.
“Why not?” He was surprised to hear that, and despite all common sense, she liked him a little more for that reaction.
“He believes in tradition,” she shrugged. “Old values.”
“Tradition is not a bad thing,” he replied. “But it should not be a pair of shackles around one’s wrists.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” she smiled. Then, she looked down at her gown. But I can’t possibly go riding like this.”
“I think I have a solution to that,” he pointed out. “Why don’t you go back inside and ask Mrs. Kensington to fetch you Mother’s old riding attire.”
Phyllis was uncomfortable with the suggestion. “Oh, but I do not wish to wear your mother’s clothes. It is highly inappropriate.”
