Oh, she liked performing tricks on horseback—she always had—but it was a little immature to have done what she did out here, in public. Just to irritate Lord Salcott.
But his constant attempts to squash her were infuriating. His responsibility was to Clarissa, not her: he’d repeatedly made that clear. So why didn’t he just leave her alone?
The rest of the morning passed pleasantly enough. Izzy took care to avoid Lord Salcott. Clarissa and Lord Randall were much better company anyway than a brooding thundercloud on horseback.
They explored the heath, enjoying the quiet wooded sections and the open swaths of grass, the ponds and the pathways. And above all Izzy reveled in the openness of the country.
She hadn’t realized it until she came up here, but she’d been feeling a little cramped in London, with its constant noise and dirt and smells, the close-set buildings and the endless push of humanity at every turn. Up here, looking out at the distant view of the city, she could breathe. She eyed the jumble of distant rooftops, picking out the spires and church towers, the dome of St. Paul’s, wondering whether it was possible to see the treetops of Bellaire Gardens...
You don’t have a home. You never did.
He was right. Studley Park Manor was never a proper home to her, not when every time her father visited she had to hide, but she would have a home of her own one day, she promised herself.
After an hour or so exploring the heath, they stopped for a short break. To her surprise, the groom, Addis, produced a rug from his saddlebags, followed by wrapped packets that turned out to contain ham and chicken sandwiches, grapes, apples and several bottles of cool, crisp cider and cups in which to drink it.
Lord Randall spread the rug on the ground, and they all sat down to an impromptu picnic.
“What a charming notion,” Clarissa said. “Did you arrange this, Lord Randall?”
He shook his head. “Not I.” He glanced at Lord Salcott. “You had every intention of coming here in the first place, didn’t you, Leo? If we’d been going to Hyde Park, there would be no need to bring refreshments.”
Lord Salcott made a dismissive gesture. “You can thank my man, Matteo. He seems to believe people will expire if they don’t eat every few hours. It’s a Neapolitan attitude.”
But his disclaimer fooled nobody. Izzy ate a chicken sandwich thoughtfully. So Lord Salcott had intended all along to bring them to Hampstead Heath. Then why had he implied that he didn’t want people in Hyde Park to see them? See her.
She glanced at him and found his gray gaze resting somberly on her. She put up her chin and stared back at him. He turned away, uncorked the cider and topped up everyone’s drinks.
She ate another sandwich—ham and mustard this time—and then ate some grapes and sipped the cool cider. The food was simple but delicious, and she’d worked up an appetite.
She shot him a sideways glance. He’d been very quiet. Still brooding? Meantime, Lord Randall entertained them with tales of his own travels in Italy, so there were no awkward silences.
As his friend talked, Lord Salcott produced a knife, picked up an apple and began to peel it. She watched as his long fingers deftly peeled it in one unbroken coil. She’d never managed to do that. He quartered the apple, removed the core and then, to Izzy’s astonishment, passed her a slice of apple.
Murmuring thanks, she took the slice and ate it. It wascrisp and sweet. He passed her another slice, then another, until she’d eaten the whole apple, straight from his hands. It felt oddly intimate. Was it a kind of wordless apology for his earlier bad temper, a peace offering?
But no, for then he peeled another apple—again in one continuous coil—and handed the pieces to Clarissa. Only he didn’t feed Clarissa a slice at a time, but passed her the whole apple on a napkin, peeled and neatly sliced up.
Izzy finished her cider. The man was such a mix of bossiness, hostility and now this, feeding her carefully prepared pieces of apple as if it meant something. All in a kind of brooding silence. She didn’t understand him at all.
He rose and fed the apple cores and peels to the horses. They packed up and mounted, ready to return to Bellaire Gardens. This time they rode two by two. Izzy rode with Lord Randall. Clarissa and Lord Salcott were some distance ahead, well out of earshot, when Lord Randall moved closer. “Don’t be too hard on Leo, Miss Isobel.”
She looked at him in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“About him losing his temper like that at your clever riding.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“He was worried about your safety, that’s all.”
Izzy sniffed. “I doubt that.”
“Believe me, he was. He can’t help it. He’s very protective of those in his care.”
“But I’m not in his care, am I? Clarissa is his ward, not I.”
Lord Randall smiled but said nothing. They rode on.
***
