Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

“ H as the mare arrived?” asked Thomas as he put on his leather gloves and then tucked a riding crop under his armpit.

“Yes, Your Grace. It arrived as scheduled right around noon,” responded the stablemaster as he walked beside him. “She weighs a healthy nine hundred pounds, almost six-and-ten hands at the withers, and looks to be the picture of health.”

“Splendid. Glad to know my cousin keeps his word.”

“Your brother examined her as well, Your Grace.”

Thomas snorted. “William likes to think he knows a thing or two about horses, but his betting history would suggest otherwise.”

Soon enough, they reached the stables and found William guiding a horse towards the watering trough. Thomas recognized the new mare, from the distinct dappled gray pattern on her coat.

“She’s a beauty, Thomas,” William said, softly patting her neck as she leaned down to drink water.

“I can see that,” Thomas replied. “Cousin Matthew takes his horses very seriously.”

“She could make a great racehorse, you know.”

“Out of the question, William.”

“Come now, imagine the impression we could make.” William had that look in his eyes, the one that had cost him the entirety of his allowance on many an occasion.

“She’s to help us with breeding. I won’t return her to my cousin in a worse state than I received her,” Thomas chided firmly, brooking no argument.

They proceeded to converse about the merits of the mare for a while until William turned, his eyes focused on something in the distance.

“What the blazes…” he said, with no small amount of distaste.

Thomas turned to check, already guessing who it might be.

It was Sophia. She was wearing a bright smile, with her hair half hidden by some manner of scarf that she had tied over it. But most importantly and shockingly, she was wearing gentlemen’s riding trousers, long leather riding boots, and a tight-fitting riding jacket that left so very little to the imagination.

Not that Thomas’s needed any encouragement.

“Good day, gentlemen,” she said as she approached and bowed. “Looks like a lovely day for horse riding, doesn’t it?”

Thomas collected himself, furrowing his brow. “Sophia, would you like to explain your appearance?”

“What is wrong with my appearance?” she asked blithely, twirling in place. “Is my attire torn somewhere?”

“That is a gentleman’s outfit.”

“I beg your pardon?” she said with offense. “ Au contraire , this is a rider’s outfit.”

Thomas swept a stressed hand through his hair. “You know well enough that women are to ride horses side-saddle with an appropriate riding dress .”

He was having some difficulty concentrating on his outrage when his gaze kept flitting to her shapely thighs, perfectly exposed by the tight light-brown trousers. As for the hourglass shape of her waist, cinched by the riding jacket… the more he looked, the more he wanted to fit his hands around that narrowness, just to see if he could.

“Who would dream of making you such… inappropriate garments?” he asked with genuine curiosity, but he thought of the answer almost immediately.

The Kendalls, who care so little for propriety.

“I’ll have you know that my parents have provided me with riding trousers ever since I started learning.” She shrugged. “It is simply more effective than trying to ride with a tangle of skirts or a great train of fabric flapping behind you.”

“Yet, it is still inappropriate!”

Sophia ignored him with a gesture as she approached the new horse. “What a beautiful beast,” she said as she extended a hand to pet the mare.

Thomas noticed William almost making a movement to stop her, but the younger Pratt thought otherwise, Thomas’s words from the ill-fated luncheon probably still fresh in his mind.

“Does she have a name?” Sophia asked.

“Violetta,” answered William. “She’s on loan from our cousin’s family in Reighton.”

The horse nickered happily at Sophia’s touch, which made her smile.

“Do you mind if I take her for a ride?” she asked, but then her eyes lit up as she had an idea. “Oh! Thomas, let’s have a friendly race!”

“What? No, out of the question,” Thomas responded, but then William butted in.

“She is a racing horse, Brother. She will need to run if she is to remain in good health. Like you said.” He grinned. “One race won’t hurt.”

“It’s not that. There’s no athleticism in racing a w… a beginner,” Thomas said, catching himself. “If I win, I’d simply beat someone lesser than me. If I lose, I’d be humiliated. Either way, it is not honorable.”

Sophia smirked. “Oh, how endearing it is, dear husband, that you couldn’t be more wrong.”

Now, both Thomas and William were looking to her for an explanation.

“Unlike you,” she continued proudly, “I grew up with two brothers who had a lot more to prove than me. You, on the other hand, grew up as the heir to a dukedom. Even if someone was brave enough to challenge you, they’d be afraid to win against you in fear of your anger.”

Thomas pondered her statement for a second.

“I bet you have never lost, have you?” she asked with confidence, and Thomas blinked.

“How—”

“Like I said. Too afraid to beat you. Unlike me, who isn’t afraid of you in the least . Wouldn’t you like to know what it’s like to have a real race? Some real competition?”

A few good seconds passed.

He smiled. “You couldn’t be more wrong, my dear wife, ” he argued in a slightly mocking tone.

“Oh?” Sophia returned in an equally mocking tone.

“You know why I have never lost a race?”

“Why would that be? Enlighten me,” she said, smiling.

“Because I couldn’t,” Thomas said bluntly. “I was the son of a duke, as you said, and destined to become one myself. Losing meant dishonor to the family and, more specifically, to me. I spent countless hours on horseback with the express purpose of never losing a challenge, whether it was issued by a commoner or another duke. You took a few riding lessons with your brothers, and you consider yourself an expert.”

“Well, why don’t you show me your expertise, then? This Duchess challenges you,” Sophia said, still smiling with jarring confidence.

“Jeremiah!” Thomas called immediately.

The stablemaster, so absorbed in tending to the rest of the animals, turned to address his Duke. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Prepare Lucille. I am going to participate in a race.”

Sophia smiled even wider at his statement as if she thought she had already triumphed.

“Prepare Violetta, too,” Thomas added. “The Duchess will put her to the test.”

Sophia gasped with joy and clapped, the movement straining the buttons of her obscenely tight jacket.

No distractions, Thomas chided himself. He could not afford to let his mind wander for even a moment, regardless of what she was wearing or what those garments were doing to his willpower.

Willpower he had fought hard to regain with work and many, many walks in the days since their outing at the theater and the ride back home.

“Yes, Your Grace,” the stablemaster replied. “At once.”

“Are both riders ready?” William called out, standing by the ancient oak that was to be the starting line.

“I am,” said Thomas as he turned and glanced at Sophia.

She looked as comfortable in the saddle as one would look relaxing in their bathtub, and he tried to feign disapproval of the way she sat—not side-saddle but astride, his mind venturing for the hundredth time to places it shouldn’t, imagining her astride him instead, riding him to a mutual conclusion that would feel far more triumphant than winning a silly race.

Concentrate! he scolded himself, turning his gaze ahead to the line of faraway trees that would be their midway point.

“I also am.” Sophia readjusted her grip on the reins, shooting him one last glance. “Good luck, husband.”

“Same to you, wife.”

William called out again. “On my whistle.” He paused, the air thick with anticipation. “Three. Two… One!”

A loud whistle rent the air, and both of them were off with a squeeze of the thighs and a tap of the riding crop.

Both horses were strong and young, and their hooves pounded loudly against the dirt as the two riders lowered their heads and sprinted ahead with fervor. There was no freedom like it, Thomas’s mare stretching her legs to her full speed, eating up the ground between the manor and the woodland.

He felt a small sense of relief as he pulled ahead, knowing he’d be first to the turn at the forest’s edge. He looked back to check on his wife, startled to find her gaining on him.

The new mare galloped like a demon.

What the ? —

He cracked the crop and sped up.

What is she doing? If she goes too fast into the turn, she’ll be thrown off her horse.

“Don’t be reckless!” he shouted, the woodland rushing towards him.

“Why, are you scared?” Sophia called back gleefully.

The turn came, and Thomas mastered it easily. Lucille’s momentum slowed, as expected, but as she began to build up speed again, Sophia threatened to fly past, taking the turn so quickly that Thomas feared for the safety of Violetta’s legs.

He was beside himself with confusion.

I had the clear advantage, and she almost stole the lead!

He had never had to push Lucille so hard.

Sophia was as fast as a storm, and worst of all, she was doing it with minimal effort. She didn’t look like she was straining or even whipping her horse that much. Within ten strides, she had passed him.

She turned her head back, flashing him a proud grin.

By Jove, she’s going so fast… Does she not care about her safety?

Lowering himself until he was practically flat against Lucille’s back, he used the long stretch to the oak tree to his advantage, his mare catching up to Sophia’s.

Then he heard a voice. Hers.

What now?

“How about a wager?” she suggested above the whistling wind.

Thomas heard her loud and clear and smiled—wide, so she could see it.

“Name your prize!” he answered.

“Not a prize! A favor! From the loser!” she responded as he realized the long stretch was almost up.

A favor…

He mused on the possibility, immediately swarmed by plenty of things he wouldn’t mind asking for. To feel her astride him, to feel the heat of her drawing him in, to hear her blissful sighs, to see her lose control as he claimed her at last.

He shook his head.

Concentrate!

Her trick, such as it was, had worked. As he thought of all the things he longed to do to her, she had dashed so far ahead of him that he stood no chance of catching up, and with a quick look, he realized they were nearing the finish line. He noticed William waiting at the exact spot they had started, holding a handkerchief, waving it with fervor.

Thomas whipped the reins fervently, but the pragmatic side of him could already tell.

He had lost. Handily so.

Sophia crossed the finish line with her arms open wide and her head thrown back, turning around the oak tree with the same effortless skill as before. So fast and close to the trunk that poor William had to hug it to get out of her way.

Thomas crossed the finish line a few seconds later, breathless and furious. Meanwhile, Sophia patted Violetta’s neck, congratulating the mare.

“Good girl! What a good girl you are!”

Thomas stared at her in disbelief and, to his disdain, in awe.

I… lost.

And that was exactly why he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by her, for if she could make him lose a race—his first ever—what else could she make him lose?