Page 48 of A Bride for the Ruthless Duke

She shook her head.

To his annoyance, and his satisfaction, he heard her laughing again.

He fixed his gaze steadily upon the path before him, preserving the memory of that sound for the remainder of his journey home, just as he had guarded the early hours of the morning, a private comfort held close and unexamined.

In the stable yard, Hibbert came forward to take the mare, his weathered face giving away nothing beyond professional satisfaction.

“She goes well,” Ellen said, patting the mare’s neck before dismounting.

“She goes as she is ridden, Your Grace,” Hibbert replied, taking the reins. “Which is a compliment to both of you, if either of you chooses to hear it.”

Ellen’s eyes turned toward Theodore. “I am willing to hear my half.”

“The other half is less accustomed to praise,” Theodore said.

“Then perhaps it will benefit him.”

“I shall consider the experiment.”

The words slipped out unexpectedly.

Ellen looked up.

Theodore looked surprised at himself.

Hibbert, who missed very little, suddenly became deeply interested in the mare’s girth.

A smile tugged at Ellen’s mouth. “Do let me know the results.”

Theodore inclined his head to Ellen. She inclined hers in return, still carrying the faint brightness of the ride, and that was the whole of it on the surface. A ride. A few words. A laugh that had surprised them both.

Underneath, nothing stood where it had been the day before.

At breakfast the next morning, Theodore found he had something to say to her, which was new.

“The bridleway over the south ridge is sound in any weather,” he said, turning a page of his letters as though the information had occurred to him incidentally. “You may take it in the wet without fear.”

Ellen looked up from the coffee. “Am I to understand that I have permission to ride in the rain?”

“You may understand that you have information enough not to drown in a ditch.”

“How romantic.”

His eyes lifted briefly. “I was aiming for useful.”

“Then you have succeeded admirably.”

“The lane through Wrenford floods above the fetlock after rain, at the ford by the mill,” he continued, refusing the small temptation to answer the smile in her voice. “Go round by the church if the water has been up. The mare does not know the ford, and a horse that does not know a ford will argue it at the worst moment.”

Ellen rested her cup in its saucer, plainly startled by the length and specificity of the instruction. “I shall remember.”

“See that you do.”

“I would not dare disappoint the ford.”

“Disappoint Hibbert if you must. The ford is less forgiving.”

A small smile touched her mouth before she looked down.