Chapter Fifteen

Penelope rode out the next morning on Midnight, needing distance from the house and quiet in which to attempt to sort out her thoughts. Liam intercepted her on a borrowed mount of his own and joined her on the ride, eliminating her chance for self-reflection. All the Seymours were excellent riders, and Liam was no exception. Even if Penelope had decided to gallop off and leave her brother behind, he would easily have caught up to her.

"Mr. Layton is not interested." Disappointment flavored the unexpected declaration.

"I've told you that any number of times," Penelope said. "Why have you suddenly decided to believe me?"

"It is not your word I am depending on in this matter." There was a stiffness to his posture that was strange for him, especially on horseback.

"Then, whose word?"

Liam angled his chin upward in a show of confidence that rang hollow. "I asked Mr. Layton."

Penelope pulled back on Midnight's reins, the horse stopping on the instant. "You asked him directly if he wanted to marry me?"

"I needed to know the truth of our situation."

"Liam, are you mad? We will be seen as ridiculous and uncouth. We are already terribly far beneath the touch of our current companions; behaving in such an impertinent way will highlight that, not reduce it."

Her brother's jaw tensed. "I made headway with the gentlemen last evening."

"I was present last evening. Nothing that happened would lead me to believe Mr. Layton would welcome such a bluntly personal discussion." Good heavens, she couldn't believe Liam would make such an enormous misstep.

"I watched you last evening as well, Penelope." His brows rose in anticipation.

She didn't take the bait.

She didn't need to.

"I don't know what you and Lord Aldric spoke about," Liam said, "but it was obvious even from across the room that there is no chance of the duke's son being interested in you."

"Another thing I told you myself before last night's gathering." Midnight skittered a little beneath her, most certainly sensing her growing tension. "You don't intend to ask him to marry me, do you?"

"Why are you being so confrontational?" Liam turned his mount a little.

"Liam, you asked a gentleman we barely have the standing to speak to if he wanted to marry me. That blunder will undermine everything I am attempting to do."

His gaze dropped away. He winced. But the moment of regret didn't last. "And what exactly are you attempting to do, Penelope?"

"To know Mr. Greenberry better and give him a chance to come to know me," she said. "I am attempting to salvage the arrangements you worked so hard to bring about."

"I don't need you to do my work for me," he muttered petulantly.

"I am trying to work with you."

The petulance turned to frustration. "I am the head of our family. Why do you never let me be the head?"

Where was this coming from? "I have never undermined you."

Liam motioned vaguely all around them. "The fact that we are here is proof that you browbeat me with alarming regularity."

" We agreed that discovering Mr. Greenberry's reason for defecting was worth the effort of coming here."

Liam shook his head. " You insisted he ought to explain. You insisted we make this journey. All this after you insisted I search the world over for a gentleman who would agree to the terms you demanded. And I capitulated every time."

He wasn't just frustrated; he was angry.

"The situation was bad enough in Cornwall," he continued. "A gentleman being unsure of a match his family arranged on his behalf to a lady he had no acquaintance with is understandable. It doesn't reflect poorly on her. But for him to actually make her acquaintance, come to know her better, and then be even less enthusiastic about the match is... humiliating. For everyone concerned."

"There are worse things than being embarrassed."

His mouth tightened into a sharp line. "That is an easy declaration to make when one is not the person constantly being humiliated." He set his horse to a slow walk once more. Penelope nudged Midnight with her knees, and the mare began walking as well.

"I was jilted by a gentleman in a very public manner," she said. "I assure you that was inarguably humiliating."

"You are intelligent and personable. You are adept at all the social niceties. You are beautiful. You have a very fine estate. Gentlemen should be lining up for the chance to secure your hand." He looked increasingly frustrated. "Yet you are spending an inordinate amount of time trying to convince one to accept your hand who clearly doesn't want it."

She winced. "You do not have to be cruel."

"I am not being cruel," he insisted. "I am being reasonable . The only one of us who is, I would add."

"I do not think it so unreasonable that Mr. Greenberry might decide that he would, in fact, like to marry me."

Liam looked over at her. "I can't justify remaining more than two more days. Though I do believe I made progress in forging something of a connection to the gentlemen, it will never be enough to warrant outstaying our welcome."

"Mr. Layton hasn't seemed truly upset about our visit."

"Do not mistake civility for acceptance, Penelope." Liam's sigh was one of embarrassment every bit as much as exasperation. "Two days is all we can justify."

"Two days isn't enough time," she insisted.

He set his shoulders. "Do not make the mistake of assuming you are the only one disappointed by how this visit has played out. You did not win the regard of a gentleman who had already rejected you. I did not gain any degree of connection to a group of people who could have given me a place in Society, a better chance of making a good match myself, and a less rocky future for the family estate."

"Is something the matter with the estate?"

That was apparently the wrong question to ask. He prickled up on the instant. "I am the head of our family," he repeated. "And it is my estate. Please stop knocking my legs out from under me."

"I wasn't—"

He set his horse to a canter that sped into a gallop, leaving her behind.

She and her brother had certainly had disagreements in the past, even a few rows, but Liam had never seemed this angry with her before.

He was angry. Lord Aldric was issuing warnings. Violet and Nicolette were helping her but with firmly worded caveats. Niles watched her with suspicion.

How had everything gone so wrong?

"I'm not a horrible person," she whispered. But her assertion didn't reassure her. She wasn't cruel, but being disingenuous was not precisely the behavior of a kindhearted person.

"I'm not lying to him." But giving an impression one knew was deceptive was not very honest. "I'm not horrible, and I'm not a liar." Her whispered words broke a little. "I just need him to believe me enough to—"

There it was. The unvarnished truth. She needed him to believe whatever it was he needed to believe in order to move forward with the match that had been arranged.

Not precisely a paragon of sincerity, am I?

She had ridden, without truly noting it, back to the stables. Liam didn't appear to have done the same.

A groomsman met her and assisted her in dismounting before leading Midnight away.

As Penelope turned to go, she spotted Niles at the edge of the silver-gray filly's pen.

He looked over at her. She held her breath. He put a finger to his lips and held his other hand out to her. She set her hand in his.

"The filly has been inching closer to me for a quarter of an hour," he said in a whisper as he tugged her over to the fence.

"Employing the same volume, she said, "The head groom told me this morning that the filly won't approach anyone."

"Not yet." He kept her hand in his as he watched the little horse out of the corner of his eye. Though he probably didn't mean for the gesture to be significant in any way, she was affected by it just the same. It was trusting and kind. There was a softness to it that she very much needed after such sharp conversations with her brother and herself.

"The stable staff said she skitters off anytime they approach her," he said, "which gave me an idea."

She pieced together that idea in an instant. "Allow her to approach you."

"Precisely."

The filly took a single step toward the fence. Niles didn't move, and he didn't look directly at the filly. It was precisely the approach she would have taken.

"If the little girl can find the courage to come make my acquaintance," Niles said, "she might be willing to approach the staff as well."

"You are very patient with her."

"She's in an unfamiliar place, and she's alone. I think that warrants some patience."

He was a very genuine person, open and sincere. She'd not realized that at first, but it was undeniable now.

Niles met her eye. He didn't seem upset to have found her watching him. He simply smiled a little, the asymmetry of his mouth adorably apparent. "Did you have a good ride this morning?"

"A short one," she admitted. "I suspect Midnight wishes I'd let her gallop."

"Do you also wish you'd let her gallop?"

Did she? "I was unusually distracted this morning. It is for the best that I didn't give a fiery horse her head while I wasn't paying enough heed." Niles released her hand as he turned enough to lean a little against the fence.

She missed the warm reassurance of his touch. She, who had always prided herself on being so fiercely independent, missed that connection.

"Is your horse in Ireland as feisty as Midnight?" he asked.

"Which one?" She moved a little closer.

"How many do you have?" He seemed genuinely curious.

"Three that are mine in particular. Though they are no longer in Ireland. They have been moved to Fairfield."

"Your estate in Surrey."

Her heart thudded for the briefest of moments as she contemplated telling him the entirety of her situation there. Hadn't she just been chastising herself for being dishonest?

"My hope is to make Fairfield a horse-breeding establishment. One of my horses is a stallion: strong, intelligent, and rather beautiful. And I've two very good brood mares."

"One of them is a true-white horse." He looked back toward the pen, though still not directly at the filly.

"You remembered." They'd discussed it so briefly that she'd not expected him to recall that detail.

"I have only seen an actual white horse twice in my entire life," he said. "The fact that you have one is not something I would easily forget."

If she explained her ambitions for her estate, would he find that equally intriguing? "With the addition of another stallion and a couple more brood mares, I could have what I think would be a very successful venture at Fairfield."

He nodded as he listened. "The reason, no doubt, you wished to retain your ownership of the estate even after you marry."

"And the reason I more or less have to marry." She sighed. "A lady living alone is frowned on. A lady living alone and overseeing a business venture would be scandalous to a destructive degree. Not to mention, essentially no one is willing to do business with an unmarried lady."

"Hmm."

She didn't know if that was a sound of contemplation or an unspoken wish for her to leave him alone. "I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

He looked back at her. "Was I giving you that impression?" That he seemed surprised set her mind at ease.

"I like talking with you," Niles said. "And I would wager I'm not the only one."

"Most horses like talking with me."

He returned his gaze to the pen. "Horses are very good judges of character."

The young horse currently evaluating his character had come nearly all the way to the fence. That spoke well of him.

"If you marry a man who doesn't agree to you keeping control of Fairfield," he said without looking back at her, "then you will have no ability to make your dreamed-of equine venture a reality."

"And a man who won't agree to my keeping Fairfield is unlikely to allow me to keep my horses or the money I have earned thus far breeding them." She shrugged a little. "I would lose everything."

"It is miserable, isn't it?" He held his hand out the tiniest bit, palm up, toward the approaching filly. "Feeling like you have no control over your life and future?"

"Do you feel that way as well?" she asked.

"I haven't had much true control over my future until quite recently. But I'm not sure I know how to keep hold of that control."

"'Tis also a miserable thing, that," Penelope said, "feeling your hopes are at last within reach but you don't know how to actually seize them."

It was such a personal conversation, and seemingly out of nowhere. Here was an opportunity to know him better and he her. She didn't dare waste it.

"What is the hope you are attempting to take hold of?" she asked.

His eyes returned to her face, and his features pulled in that wary expression she saw far too often on his face.

In a nearly strangled voice, she said, "Please don't look at me that way, Niles." Her misstep struck her immediately. " Mr. Greenberry. " What a mess she was making of this. "I have met so many Misters Greenberry in the last while that I've needed to think of you by your Christian name simply to keep everyone straight. I hadn't ever meant to address you so informally."

"There are an awful lot of Misters Greenberry," he acknowledged. It was very gracious of him. "How was I looking at you that upset you?"

Niles was proving a remarkable gentleman. He'd not been offended by the inappropriate liberty she'd taken with his name. And he sounded legitimately interested in knowing what had upset her. All of this while knowing that she had been trying to convince him of a future she wanted without knowing if it was what he wanted. He deserved to be treated better than she had been treating him.

"I am not cruel." She could not entirely ignore the pleading quality in her voice. "Not truly. And I'm not dishonest, at least not intentionally. I do try to be a decent person." She released a breath.

"And I looked at you in the way one would a cruel, dishonest, not-decent person?"

"You look at me like you don't trust me."

He didn't answer, but the hesitation in his eyes was answer enough.

Penelope pushed down a surge of misery. "I've been trying to snatch hold of some of those elusive hopes. But in doing so, I know I have made you uncomfortable."

"I have been confused and uncertain but not truly uncomfortable."

Her doubt could not possibly have remained hidden.

Niles, good-hearted person that he was, smiled again. "Perhaps a little uncomfortable but not enough to justify your current level of self-castigation."

"Your face has said otherwise."

"I wouldn't listen to it if I were you." The absurdity in Niles's brown-flecked blue eyes undercut his earnest tone.

"You don't mind that I'm here?" she asked.

"When any of the stablehands have wandered anywhere nearby, this nervous filly has backed away. But she didn't when you approached. She still hasn't." He glanced at the horse, which was within a breath of nudging his hand with her nose. "That says something about you, Penelope Seymour."

"I like animals," she said.

"As do I." His eyes narrowed. "Except for cats. Cats are terrible."

Penelope burst out laughing. Niles had offered his excoriation of cats with such an overdone tone of disgust that there was no doubt he hadn't meant a word of it.

"Nothing in your family's letters prepared me to discover that you are so funny," she said.

He smiled ever more broadly. "I can't imagine most people describing me as funny."

"Do you spend time exclusively in the company of thick-headed people?"

He shrugged. "The Gents are known to be exceptionally bacon-brained."

That set her laughing again, and he joined in. The filly looked at them, quite as if she felt they had taken leave of their wits. But she didn't back away.

"I do wish we'd met under different circumstances," Penelope said. "I would greatly enjoy being your friend."

"Is it inevitable that our difficult beginning means we cannot move forward as friends?" he asked.

Heaven help her, he was making her hope for things she ought not. Her disappointment would only hurt that much more. "I have imposed on you in many ways. I cannot expect you to continue any sort of acquaintance with me."

"You overstate the situation, Miss Seymour. You tracked me here and have attempted to turn my head a bit in order to push forward the originally proposed connection between us."

She blushed at hearing her efforts stated so bluntly by the one on the receiving end of them.

"I refused to return home at the previously determined date and left you to face the humiliation of a missing groom," he continued. "Had the two of us been undertaking a sporting competition, the contest would currently be considered a draw."

He didn't mean to hold her schemes against her, schemes Lord Aldric had disapproved of, Liam had condemned, and both Violet and Nicolette had been hesitant to participate in until after they had been assured Penelope didn't mean to truly impose on Niles.

"Could we begin again?" she asked. "Start fresh—or as much as we can; there is no way of truly dismissing all that has happened—and be friends?"

"I would like that."

Her heart thudded a bit against her ribs with a quiver of something a little less hopeful than she would have expected. It was as if her heart were rejoicing and weeping at the same time.

"There you are, sweet girl," Niles cooed.

When the filly didn't pull back, Niles rubbed her nose gently. His smile was so tender, and there was pride in his expression. But that pride was directed at the nervous little horse who had chosen to be brave.

She had gained the hope of his friendship but realized in the very moment he had offered it that her heart wanted more. In her efforts to convince him that he could be happy in a match with her, she had begun falling in love with him.