Grant jumped to his feet and swept his daughter off hers, wrapping her in a hug that shook her legs. She laughed and wiggled out of the embrace.
“Again, Mr. Stigal,” Grant said before turning to the girls. “I have to speak with Grandpapa Garrison. Who wants to come?”
Bridget jumped to her feet. “Me!”
He bent his elbow toward her as she jumped from the stage, and she wrapped her arm through his.
“Izzy?” Grant asked. The girls loved Garrison, and he always kept a treat or two for them in his office.
“No thank you. Someone needs to watch him.” She nodded at William.
Grant winked at her. “Remind him to stay loose, poppet.”
She nodded, placing fists on hips and forgetting her soldiers.
As he and Bridget passed out of the arena, Freddy followed. When he stopped outside of Garrison’s office, she sailed past, continued down the hall to the old dressing room that had become Grant’s office. She cast him a glance as she opened the door, and she winked before disappearing inside.
Hell. He’d make it quick. He shoved the door open, and Garrison looked up from behind the large desk.
“Hello, son. Sunshine.” He dropped the quill he’d been writing with and greeted them with open arms.
Bridget ran to him, and he patted her on the head, tapped a drawer to her left. She smiled and opened it, reached inside, and pulled out a chocolate. It was popped in her mouth before Grant could object. Not that he would. Unless he felt Freddy would object. But right now, Freddy was waiting.
He cleared his throat. “Garrison, we need to start those riding lessons soon. You’ve delayed the project enough, and I’ll not have it delayed any longer.
Bridget chewed her treat with wide eyes and a nodding head.
Garrison leaned forward over the desk, propped his elbows atop it, and steepled his fingers. “Hm. You’ve been mighty pushy since signing those papers.”
“You wanted this.”
Garrison fell back into his chair. “And I love it, son. This is who you were always meant to be.”
He couldn’t disagree. Everything these days felt right. Even his knees ached a bit less.
“The riding lessons?” Grant said. He’d keep the old man focused if he had to hold his head still with his hands.
Garrison tapped the arm of the chair. “A good idea, a good idea. Naturally. But I’m hesitant.”
“To make more money?”
Bridget nodded, curls bouncing.
“No,” Garrison said.
“To better educate the children of London on proper horsemanship?”
Bridget nodded more, her eyes serious, her body leaning forward in her fervent agreement.
“No,” Garrison snapped. “It’s the scholarship scheme. You intend to let some of those children learn for free, which disrupts your initial point about—”
“No, it doesn’t. Look at my plan.”
“I have.”
“So you know how the money is covered, and you know the ideas are sound.”
“I do,” Garrison grumbled.