his eggs. Jamie might protest all he liked, but Will was certain more than a friendly nature motivated him to pursue Lady Everard. He had to find a way to break through to his son.
“Perhaps I’ll come with you,” Will ventured. “I feel in an uncommonly neighborly mood as well.”
For some reason his son did not seem amused by the prospect. But he finished breakfast and excused himself, promising to rejoin his father after Will’s morning ride.
Will hoped that ride would at least clear his mind of his concerns. Nothing like pounding across the turf to remind him of the reason he was born. He was a Wentworth, and this estate had belonged to his family for ten generations. He glanced back at the hall as he wended his way through the boxed hedges for the stables behind the house.
A sturdy brick edifice four stories tall, with squat wings clinging to the center, Kendrick Hall had been built for his great-grandfather. The numerous high-arched windows capped in white, and white stone columns marking the center block, managed to give the place a look of elegance in keeping with the current age. But though the house was newer than its neighbors, Wentworth blood had defended the grounds from Scottish tribes over four hundred years ago.
And now it was Will’s turn to defend it from the rising debts. He nodded to his head groom as he mounted Arrow, his favorite horse. He knew others whose heritage had been stolen by a father who gambled, a brother who invested unwisely. That was not the case with the Kendrick estate. His father had been a good if unenlightened manager. But times were changing, and the Evendale valley, so close to the fells of Cumberland, was struggling to keep pace.
Will set Arrow to a canter and guided him out around the house for the front. There he could see snatches of the oak woods to the north and the lone line of oaks flanking the long drive to the road. He had only to move beyond them, and he could see all the way to Dallsten Manor.
So he could not fail to notice the other rider pelting across the green pastures between the two houses. Even if he had doubted the identity, the flash of sunlight on golden hair would have given her away.
The gelding beneath him tossed his head as if wishing to follow. Will felt a similar desire to give chase. He knew Arrow was swift enough to catch her. But he wasn’t sure he wanted the conversation that would follow. Neighbors or not, the less time he spent in Lady Everard’s company, the safer he’d feel.
But would Jamie be any safer if Will let her be? Jamie had no understanding of the female mind; Will had met enough ladies on his travels to have some familiarity. Lady Everard had implied last night that she would be more interested in him than in his son, a fact that had refused to leave his thoughts for much of the night.
Should I keep an eye on her, Father? Try to understand why she’s here, what she hopes to gain?
Something inside him jumped at the idea. Still, Will hesitated, watching her. She certainly had no concerns about her own safety. Though she had crossed onto his lands, she had forsaken a groom or lady to attend her. Her horse galloped across the field, sheep scattering before them, and approached a low hedge that separated the patches of grass so the flocks could be rotated among the pastures.
Surely she’d slow; surely she’d stop. He found himself rising in the stirrup irons as if he could hold her up by sheer force of character.
The horse sailed up and over the hedge, and Lady Everard flew up and out of the saddle to land on the ground.
Will felt as if his breath had been knocked from him as well. Arrow was moving before he realized he’d directed the dappled gelding. Down they went, through the trees, over a stream. Every length Will sent up a prayer that he would find her unharmed. He galloped to the hedge and leaped from the saddle.
She had managed to raise herself into a sitting position and was gazing about her as if dazed. Will crouched beside her. Her tall-crowned hat had fallen, her curls hung free about her shoulders, and her cheeks were bright. She blinked at him as if surprised to find him there.
“Lady Everard,” he murmured, tightening his fist on the reins to keep from touching her. “Are you all right?”
She wrinkled her nose and puffed out a sigh. “I am remarkably disappointed. I’ve taken that hedge any number of times. Why was today any different?”
He wasn’t sure whether to hug her to him in relief or shout at her for risking her life. He settled for rising and going to fetch her horse, which was waiting for her a few yards away. When he returned with the black-coated mare, Lady Everard had retrieved her hat and was struggling to take another step, the skirts of her blue riding habit heavy with the mud of the field.
“Easy!” He dropped both reins and reached for her, but she held out her free hand to prevent his touch.
“I’m fine,” she said, straightening to her full height, which still put her under his chin. She took a hesitant couple of steps and nodded. “Yes, quite fine.” She dimpled up at him. “But thank you for your concern.”
Will shook his head at her cavalier attitude. Didn’t she know she could have broken her neck? “You’re certain?”
“Reasonably. Though I could use your help to mount.”
That was it? He couldn’t think of a lady of his acquaintance who would take such a fall so calmly. His Peg had refused to ride, saying the great beasts frightened her, and he’d felt distinctly manly at the time that he was so comfortable in the saddle. In his travels he’d met any number of women who rode or drove wagons pulled by horses, donkeys or oxen, but those women had never been among the aristocracy.
“Your servant, Lady Everard,” he said, bemused. Knowing his horse was well trained enough not to wander off, he handed her her horse’s reins and bent to cup his fingers.
Hat back on her head, Samantha Everard put her foot in his hands. For all her bravado, it was a surprisingly small foot. Even encased in a sturdy brown leather half-boot, it fit easily in his grip, and she seemed to weigh next to nothing as he lifted her into the saddle.
She spread her sodden skirts as she settled into place. “Thank you, my lord. I appreciate your kindness.”
But not necessarily his presence. Already she was gathering the reins, preparing to ride off. He should let her go, hurry back to Kendrick Hall and all those tedious estate duties. But those duties would not help him understand her, or protect his son.
“Then perhaps you would grant me a favor,” he said.
She arched a brow. “A favor?”
He lay his hand on her stirrup, gazed up at her with his best smile and was surprised to hear his heart pounding louder than when he’d seen her fall. “Allow me to ride with you. I’d like to apologize for my behavior last night and become better acquainted.”
* * *
It should have been easy to urge Blackie to a run and dash away, but Lord Kendrick’s face, turned up to her, was bright with hope. Those green eyes positively twinkled in the summer sun, as if being with her was the most delightful thing he could imagine. Besides, her hip was beginning to protest its collision with the ground, and she didn’t relish galloping at the moment.
“Very well, my lord,” she said.
Returning to his horse, he swung himself up into the saddle as if from long practice and eased alongside her. His dapple gray was a
