Zach gave a low whistle when he saw the grey gelding. He walked over to Harry, who was fishing a carrot out of her coat pocket.
“He’s at least sixteen hands high,” Zach said, stroking the gelding’s nose. “That’s quite a mount for a Pocket Venus such as you.”
Harry held up a carrot on her upturned palm, fingers flat. Her horse snuffled it up and crunched. “That’s what I thought when the hostler brought him out for me.” She gave Zach a sidelong glance. “Except for the Venus part.” She patted her horse’s neck. “But he’s been very patient and forgiving with me.”
The horse finished his carrot and nuzzled Harry for another. Zach held the bridle and did a cursory check of the horse’s teeth and bit, then the rest of the tack and girth on the saddle. Zach gave him another pat on the neck. “Older gents like this fellow tend to get either cantankerous or placid. Fortunately for you, he seems to be the latter.”
“You are an expert on horseflesh?” Harry snatched her cap back from the horse, who was still looking for another treat.
Zach shook his head. “The expected path for a younger son is either the military or clergy. I have always liked women and cards too much to get up early on Sundays and give a sermon, so Father bought colors for me. The 15th King’s Hussars. I learned to choose my mount carefully.”
She tilted her head to study him. “I imagine you looked quite dashing in your cavalry uniform.”
Zach preened. “For a few years, yes. Parading about and impressing the ladies was one thing, but it turns out I didn’t have the stomach for battle. And the military insists we greet the morning absurdly early.”
Harry chuckled.
Nick tamped down a spark of impatience. Fortunately, a groom brought out his own chestnut gelding just then and he swung up into the saddle, making the leather creak as much as possible.
Startled, Harry glanced at Nick, a pink flush stealing across her cheeks. She took the reins back from Zach and made to move to the mounting block, but Zach stood in her way.
He leaned over and cupped his hands. “Allow me, m’dear.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Harry rested a hand on Zach’s shoulder and let him boost her up into the saddle. As she settled and adjusted the reins, a groom brought out Zach’s black stallion.
Zach gave Harry a pat on the leg and then strode past Nick to his horse, a satisfied smirk tilting his mouth.
Nick tamped down another spurt of impatience. Yes, that’s what he felt, impatience. “We’re losing daylight.”
“Keep your britches on, boy,” Zach said. He mounted and wheeled his horse toward the road. “Shall we go?”
Nick swore softly in Mandarin, a handy phrase he’d learned from Chang, and led the way out of the yard.
As soon as they were on the road, Zach tossed out, “What happened to the starboard gun?”
Nick glanced over his shoulder at Zach. “Went overboard in a storm.”
Zach urged his horse forward to catch up with Nick. “Come again?”
“Two days out in the Channel a squall blew through. The line was frayed, the carriage rolled, and it punched through the starboard gunwale.”
Harriet couldn’t help shuddering at the memory.
Zach slowed down until he was even with Harriet’s horse. “What is it, m’dear?”
“My skirt was tangled in the carriage axle when it went overboard.” She swallowed hard. “I nearly drowned.”
“But the weight of the cannon—”
“The gun fell off the carriage when it tipped over the side,” Nick said. “I jumped in to grab her, and the crew hauled on my safety line to fish us out.”
Zach glanced between the two of them, his expression thoughtful. A lone rider trotted past, going the other direction. “And your dress?”
“At the bottom of the Channel, still tangled with the carriage. Unless fish have a taste for wool.”
She felt Zach peruse her person, taking in her masculine attire with renewed interest. She kept her gaze on the road ahead.
A carriage drawn by a pair of bays approached, and Zach fell back, third in line. Harriet forced herself to relax, to enjoy the sun on her face as the fog dissipated. Clouds were clearing, and large patches of blue sky were becoming visible. Breathtaking views of autumn foliage in orange and brilliant yellow, mostly from rows of grape vines, covered the hillside they were climbing.
