Chapter Ten

Penelope was embarrassingly nervous.

There'd been no objection when she'd asked to join Niles and the Gents during their game of ground billiards. He'd not seemed annoyed that she'd spoken more with him than the others during their excursion to Hamblestead. He wouldn't be unkind, even if he was disinclined to accept her intended invitation.

Yet she was anxious as she approached the Pledwick Manor stables. Gentlemen asked ladies to accompany them on drives all the time. Were those hopeful gentlemen as nervous as she?

She'd seen Niles leave the house for his morning ride, and he was now standing outside the stables. This was her opportunity, if she kept her nerve. She was not ever this chickenhearted, but so much depended on the success of this courtship.

"Good morning, Mr. Greenberry," she said as she stopped at his side. Nervous she might be, but she wasn't a coward.

He was clearly surprised to see her but, to her relief, didn't seem displeased. "Good morning, Miss Seymour."

Courage. "May I join you on your ride this morning?" she asked.

He hesitated a little, and her nervousness increased.

"I can keep pace with you," she said in case that was a source of Niles's uncertainty. "I've had a chance to meet all of Mr. Layton's horses as well as a few of the Gents'. None of them gave me the impression of being too spirited for me."

"Even Morwenna?" Niles asked.

"Your mare appears to have ample fire. When I've watched her, she's also shown herself to be very intelligent. I would wager she regularly provides you with a challenge."

A subtle smile twinkled in his eyes. "I prefer to not be bored on horseback."

"So do I."

The more she learned of Niles Greenberry, the more convinced she became that they would make a not-miserable match if only she could convince him to consider it.

"Have you met the little filly?" She motioned to the tiny silver-gray horse standing at the far end of her small pen.

"I am the one who suggested Digby purchase her."

"Truly?" Penelope hadn't heard about Niles's involvement in the decision. "What was your reasoning?"

"She has a beautiful trot. With training, her already elegant high step would see her sold at a significant profit. Digby would have been foolish not to purchase her."

"That was precisely my assessment." They both had an eye for assessing horses and an understanding of the business considerations of raising and training them.

"She hasn't warmed to anyone yet." Niles watched the filly. "That will have to be overcome first."

Nervous horses weren't easy to train, and untrained horses were very difficult to sell. Did Mr. Layton have stablehands capable of easing the filly out of her skittishness?

One of the groomsmen crossed over to them.

"Will you saddle a mount for Miss Seymour?" Niles requested.

The young man nodded. "Which horse?"

Niles motioned to Penelope. "Whichever one she wishes."

The deference he so easily offered was somehow both unexpected and entirely in keeping with what she knew of him. "Saddle Midnight, please."

The groomsman made his way toward the stall where the Arabian mare was kept.

"Why Midnight?" Niles watched her with curiosity.

"I've watched her when I've visited the stables. She is spirited but also well-behaved and responsive. That will give me options. My ride this morning can be as sedate or challenging as I wish it to be."

"You are precisely correct."

"You know the animal well," she said, "though it's not your own."

He shrugged. "I helped Digby decide if he wanted to purchase Midnight a couple of years ago."

"Just like the filly." That was intriguing. "Do people often consult you on horse purchases?"

"All the Gents have done so at one time or another. I find horses endlessly interesting, and I have ridden dozens upon dozens. The Gents often ask for my thoughts, and I'm seldom wrong." He gave the explanation with dismissal in his posture and tone but not the sort that undermined what he was saying. It spoke more of modesty.

He had an interest in horses and enough of an understanding to be consulted about them regularly, though he wasn't already entirely convinced of his own infallible expertise, which far too many gentlemen had shown themselves to be when she'd mentioned her own experience with and understanding of horses. And while he was quieter than his friends, he had shown himself more than willing, and even comfortable, talking with her. He came to the rescue of servants and of insulted Irishwomen. He was kind.

None of this had been mentioned in the letters Liam had exchanged with Niles's grandfather. She wished it had been.

"The Seymours are quite well known in Ireland for our horses," she said. "I don't know if you were ever told that."

"My father did mention it." Niles didn't seem as excited as she was at having something so significant in common.

He was allowing her to join him on his ride though. That could be seen as a good omen, couldn't it? A stablehand led two horses out of the stables. Midnight was fitted with a side saddle. She really was a beautiful horse. Niles's roan mare was handsome as well.

"Does Mr. Layton have any white horses?" she asked Niles.

"Truly white, no," Niles answered. "The little gray filly will be a striking shade of white in a few years' time, but she won't still be here."

"I have a true-white mare. Pink skin, pink eyes. She's the most beautiful horse I've ever seen."

"A truly white horse is a rare thing," Niles said. "I think that makes them all the more awe-inspiring."

Oh, how could he not be excited to be discovering these connections between them? If she couldn't build upon these commonalities, she didn't know how to even begin winning his regard.

Penelope used a mounting block and the assistance of the stablehand to get into the saddle. Niles was quickly in his saddle as well, and they began at a leisurely pace as they left the stable yard.

"Why did you name your mare Morwenna?" Penelope asked.

"It is an old Cornish name," he said. "As mine is an old Cornish family, we have a tendency to find inspiration in that corner of the kingdom."

"My favorite pony when I was little had a very old Irish name: Cairbre. It was the name of two kings of Ireland, and I think the pony knew it."

"Rather pleased with himself, was he?" Niles spoke very personably and even seemed at ease. He didn't always.

"Extremely pleased with himself." She grinned at the memory. "He trotted about like a monarch."

"The most regal of kings do run about with saddles on their backs." Niles made the observation with such earnestness that had she not looked over at him and seen that now-familiar hint of a smile on his face, she wouldn't have realized he was jesting. How many people missed his delightful sense of humor because he offered it so subtly?

"I understand saddles are as much a royal accoutrement as a crown," Penelope said. "And so very refined."

"Indeed."

It felt good to have a slightly ridiculous conversation. There'd not been as much merriment in their family the last few years. Father's death had been a blow. Penelope's failure to make a match in Dublin society frustrated her socially ambitious mother. Liam had worked hard to find a husband who met Penelope's requirements, and that hadn't worked out well. Life had been far too heavy.

"Most ladies prefer a sedate morning ride." Penelope patted Midnight's neck. "But I am hoping this lass'll run."

"She will," Niles said. "I've seen it."

"Fast?"

He nodded.

"Faster than Morwenna?"

Penelope had encountered more than her share of men who grew irritated or offended when a woman even hinted at his horse or horsemanship being inferior. But Niles didn't seem the least threatened.

"I think these two mares are well matched for speed," he said. "But you're at a disadvantage."

"Why's that?" she asked.

"Because I know my horse very well, but you only just met yours."

She offered a coy shrug of one shoulder. "Which ought to even the odds for you."

His laugh was delightful. She'd heard it a few times since arriving at Pledwick Manor, most frequently during the game of ground billiards. He enjoyed active pursuits and friendly competition and had a teasing sense of humor. They were so alike, more than she'd ever imagined a chance-chosen match could be.

They rode through a passage in the hedgerow. Ahead of them, a gravel path stretched long and straight to yet another opening in another hedgerow, beyond which was a picturesque lake. The path continued past the shoreline, following a narrow strip of land that, clearly having been created specifically to do so, led to an island, on which appeared to be a columned gazebo.

The grounds of Pledwick Manor were not merely extensive; they were gorgeous. An objective observer would insist that Fairfield would never be its equal, but Penelope didn't need it to be. She loved her future home more than she could any other place in the world. It was more than an estate; it was every dream she had ever allowed herself to indulge in.

And Niles was key to claiming that.

"Shall we race to the next hedgerow?" She motioned to it up ahead.

"Will there be a forfeit for the winner?" Niles asked.

"I like flowers," she said.

Again, he laughed. "Before you become too attached to that particular prize, I should warn you that my favorite flowers are snapdragons, and they are not easy to find this time of year."

"Do I appear worried?"

"Not enough to boost my confidence." He shook his head. "It seems I ought to discover what your favorite flower is."

"I am inordinately fond of bluebells. I suspect they are equally difficult to find this time of year." She sighed as if she were enduring a tremendous disappointment. "Our forfeit, it seems, will be flowers that are not the winner's favorite."

Niles laughed a little. He then set his sights ahead of them again. "We'll go on your signal."

"At the ready," she instructed.

He bent forward a bit, focusing on their target. She did the same.

"And"—she drew out the word—"go!"

She nudged the horse with her legs, and the mare responded instantly. They sped down the path. The asymmetrical four-beat gait told her Midnight was at a true gallop. The feeling of flying during those moments when all four hooves were off the ground was as exhilarating as always. And the mare handled beautifully.

As far as Penelope could tell, she and Niles reached the far hedgerow at the exact same moment. On the other side, she allowed Midnight to slow and cool down. Niles was doing the same with Morwenna, and he was grinning as broadly as Penelope was.

"I think you enjoyed that, Niles Greenberry."

He turned back toward her. "I think you did as well, Penelope Seymour."

She took a lungful of rain-heavy air, feeling invigorated even in the quickly cooling breeze. "I always enjoy riding at a gallop, though my mother tells me I ought not do so away from home or in the company of others. 'Tisn't ladylike."

"Does she also share your brother's opinion about the unladylike nature of running?"

She hadn't expected him to remember that offhand comment but was deeply pleased to realize he had. "My brother's objections stem from worry that our family's standing is too precarious to endure overly close scrutiny. My mother's objections arise from her conviction that I am an endless embarrassment."

"Ought I to send her a letter informing her that you've managed to be here for days and haven't yet proven an embarrassment?" He was smiling but not in a way that negated his declaration ; rather, it acknowledged the humor of his offering.

"I don't think my mother would believe you."

She couldn't always find reason for lightness when thinking of her mother's opinion of her, but she did in that moment. Niles likely didn't realize the kindness he had managed with his jesting response.

A drop of rain splashed on her nose, then her sleeve, followed quickly by several on her gloves. "It seems the heavens are of the opinion that we are too dry." She looked up to the thick clouds, and a raindrop crashed against her cheek.

Then the heavens split open. In an instant, they were in a deluge.

"The gazebo is closer than the stables," Niles said through the downpour.

She didn't need any urging. A roof over her head was far preferable to waiting for the rain to soak through her wool redingote.

They rode quickly over the narrow strip of land out to the lake island. The gazebo was larger than it had seemed from across the water, which was to their advantage, because the horses were able to be sheltered there as well.

"A shame," Penelope said. "I had hoped to ride longer."

"You can ride Midnight again when the weather is better." It wasn't exactly regret at not getting to ride longer with her.

She refused to be entirely discouraged. "Would you and Morwenna join us?" She offered a smile she knew was a little bit flirtatious.

He shrugged. That was all. A shrug.

Invitations to ride were apparently not an effective approach to this attempted courtship. She needed a different idea. He had enjoyed the game of ground billiards.

"Ground billiards was a great deal of fun." She let her enthusiasm show. "I think we made a good team during the game."

He looked genuinely confused. "Did you consider us a team?"

They hadn't been in the truest sense, but she'd hoped to emphasize that the afternoon had been enjoyable and that they'd both been good at the game and shown themselves well able to work together to share their mallet. "I suppose we weren't, were we?"

What other things did gentlemen propose when attempting to court a lady?

Another possibility occurred to her. Hopeful again, she said, "Perhaps Mr. Layton would allow us to borrow a pony cart." She opted for a smile that wasn't quite as flirtatious as she'd employed when asking if he would ride with her again, but she still felt confident he would see a small hint of it. Subtlety might prove a better approach. "We could go for a drive around the estate."

He tucked his hands into his pockets. His gaze remained firmly on the rain-pelted lake. Everything about him spoke of discomfort. "Violet would enjoy that, I'm certain."

"I suspect you know the estate better than she does." Please accept. Please.

"Digby knows it better than I do."

Decidedly not an acceptance. "I suppose he does." She managed not to sigh, but only just.

All around them, rain pelted the lake. The usual rings that flowed from rain hitting water were so frequent and so forceful that it created small, rippling waves. The trees along the shoreline rustled in the stiff breeze. It was beautiful and peaceful. And she was a little miserable.

She and Niles had discovered they shared an interest in horses, and he didn't seem to care. She'd coquettishly invited him to ride with her again, and he'd answered with indifference. A reminder of their enjoyable day of ground billiards hadn't seemed to please him. A suggestion that they take a cart around the estate had seen her passed off first to Violet and then to Mr. Layton.

The silence between her and Niles drew out long. Quiet didn't usually bother her, but she wanted to feel like she'd made some progress in winning him over. There had to be something she could say that he would respond to encouragingly.

"Mr. Layton has a picturesque estate," she said.

Niles nodded. "He is very fortunate."

"Your family's homes in Cornwall are lovely."

"They are also very fortunate."

Something about the longing she heard pushed her to ask a question that hadn't occurred to her before. "Do you have a home of your own?"

"I don't." His cheeks pinked a little, though that might have been from the chill in the air. "I will someday though." His gaze shifted out over the lake. "I will."

There was an almost desperate note ringing through his words of determination. Clearly, having a home to call his own was important to him. She understood that. Heavens, she understood.

He would have been told during the marriage negotiation that once they were married, they would have Fairfield. It would be his home as well as hers. He could ride horses whenever he wished, and she suspected he would enjoy being part of the equine venture she meant to tackle there. The Gents could come visit. His family could visit.

He would have a home. But it seemed he didn't want it.

Or he just really didn't want her.