“Please, be gentle with me,” Amelia whispered, stroking the nose of the sandy-colored mare that the stablemaster had selected for her.
The mare bumped her lightly with her nose, snorting hot air.
“I apologize, I do not speak horse,” Amelia said, chuckling nervously. “But I hope you just said that you will take the utmost care with me.”
The stablemaster, Mr. Wallace, who stood off to one side, observed with a smile. Bea and Mrs. Scanlon had come to watch too, the former grinning with delight, while the latter could not have looked more anxious if she tried. As if she knew she should, perhaps, have waited until Lionel returned to ask if Amelia could learn to ride.
“She’s the sturdiest, most docile horse you could hope for,” the stablemaster said. “She’ll not throw you off. I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I thought you’d be in any danger, My Lady.”
Amelia smiled at the older man. “Gratitude, Mr. Wallace.” She hesitated. “Now, how do I get on?”
The stablemaster retrieved a small set of wooden steps and put them beside the mare, beckoning for Amelia to approach. She did so, albeit nervously, and listened to his instruction as he told her how to get into the saddle. Nevertheless, being taught how to do something and actually doing something were two very different things.
Why must I have an audience?she lamented, blushing furiously as she struggled to heave herself up into the saddle.
By the third try, she managed it, feeling rather proud of herself as she sat there, angling her legs to the side of the horse.
“We’ll take an easy walk through the grounds,” Mr. Wallace said, grasping the reins. “Get you used to the feeling before I teach you how to ride by yourself.”
Amelia nodded. “That would be very kind, thank you.”
“You just hold on tight to the pommel,” he instructed.
Amelia did as he asked and, a moment later, they began to move. The mare swayed with each plodding step, reminding her of her ride back from the Duke of Thornhill’s ball, safe in Lionel’s arms. She felt his absence keenly as she gripped tight to the pommel, wishing he was there.
They made it across the stable yard, to where expansive lawns stretched to a border of woodland. The Dower House was on the other side of that forest somewhere, or so Mrs. Scanlon had toldher, and Amelia was tempted to ask the stablemaster if he would lead her all the way there.
Lionel would get such a shock, seeing me arrive on horseback.The thought made her smile, but the thought of riding that far, so soon, made her stomach turn somersaults. Sitting side-saddle was far more difficult than sitting astride the horse, as she had done with Lionel, but she did not want to appear improper in front of the servants.
“Have you coated the saddle in some manner of oil?” Amelia wheezed as she lurched from side to side with each of the mare’s slow strides. Her hands ached from gripping the pommel for dear life.
Mr. Wallace chuckled. “No, My Lady. I promise, you’ll get used to it.”
“Very well,” she mumbled, her heart in her throat.
The grass made things worse, the mare’s gait uneven, making Amelia feel as if she was being tossed from side to side. And soon enough, a very familiar sensation began to roil in her stomach—one she had not experienced since her younger years, before her father had forced her to ride in carriage until she got over the sickness.
They had barely made it halfway across the frosty lawn before she could not suppress the feeling anymore. Yet, years of discipline and punishment had taught her that she could not embarrass herself in front of the staff.
“I must walk,” she rasped to the stablemaster. “Please, I must walk.”
Mr. Wallace halted abruptly. “Are you well, My Lady?”
“No, I must walk,” she urged, making the mistake of trying to free her legs from the side-saddle, desperately trying to get out of the situation before it became something humiliating.
But as she freed her legs and began to slip, panic caught hold of her. She lunged for the closest thing she could grab onto, gripping at a clump of the poor mare’s mane.
In an instant, the mare turned from docile and patient to panicked and confused. The mare tossed her head back, the movement snatching the reins out of the stablemaster’s hand, and with nothing anchoring her to where she was, the mighty horse bolted… with Amelia hanging on with everything she possessed.
And she was losing her grip.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lionel’s eye twitched as the screech of a violin filtered into his grandmother’s parlor.
“Do you think she is doing that on purpose?” he asked Caroline, every note sending a shiver down his spine.
Caroline chuckled as she bit into a strawberry cake. “Undoubtedly, my dear boy. According to her friends, she plays the violin rather well.”
