sideboard. The high ruffled shirt rising from the collar framed her beautiful face. A mischievous smile played about her lips and sparkled in her eyes as she glanced his way.
‘Good morning, Your Grace.’ She added a scoop of scrambled eggs to her plate.
Devil take it, he hated conversation before he’d had his first cup of tea. Why couldn’t she take a tray in her room like any other self-respecting noblewoman? Although come to think of it, none of the women he’d been around in the morning were at all self-respecting, or he would not have been there.
‘Good morning.’ At least that was what he intended to say. It came out sounding more like a grunt.
She took her place at the table adjacent to his normal seat. He marched across to the sideboard, loaded up his usual poached eggs and steak and set his plate down. He glanced at the newspaper which had been carefully ironed, folded and set beside his fork so he could glance at the headlines.
He gritted his teeth. Not today. One did not read at the table when one had female company. Even he remembered that from his youthful lessons in manners. His nursemaid, Digger, would be proud of him.
Maybe.
‘Tea?’ she asked.
He preferred to pour his own. ‘Thank you.’
She fixed two cups, added cream and sugar to one and passed it across. He took a sip. Perfect. Exactly how he liked it. How had she known? His temper improved leaps and bounds with each mouthful.
‘I see you plan on riding out?’ Hah! A whole sentence and perfectly polite.
‘I do. Your stable master, Mr Litton, introduced me to Bella earlier in the week and since it is such a fine morning, I thought to put her through her paces.’
He hadn’t known she liked to ride. He should have asked. ‘Hmmph.’
‘My riding out does not meet with your approval?’
Blast the woman, did she have to ask him questions? He took another sip of tea. For some stupid reason the morning seemed altogether brighter than it had when he arose from his bed.
‘I will ride with you. I always ride first thing in the morning.’ As she probably knew quite well. ‘There is no reason why we should ride out separately.’ No reason at all, except his confrères might think he had run mad. For years he’d mocked any man so smitten as to ride with ladies at so early an hour. Too dull by half. Yet he had a duty, did he not? To make sure she could handle Bella, as well as see to her safety? A mere groom would not take nearly enough care.
She raised a brow and looked at him speculatively over the rim of her teacup before taking a sip. She gave a little grimace of distaste.
‘Something wrong with the tea?’
‘Oolong is not a favourite with me.’
‘Tell the kitchen.’
‘I will.’ She put her cup down and glanced down at his untouched food. ‘I will be ready in say...half an hour.’ With him or without him being implied. On that note, she daintily consumed the remaining food on her plate and left the room.
After skimming the political headlines, checking on the arrival of a ship in which he had an interest while he demolished his breakfast, he headed out to the stables. Litton had both horses saddled and was saddling his own. Of Her Grace there was as yet no sign. He was a couple of minutes early and he hoped she would not keep him waiting too long.
He gave Bella’s tack a thorough inspection, before turning his attention to his own horse. Not that he expected his staff to do anything but an excellent job. ‘Her Grace will not be needing you today, Litton.’
The man’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Bella’s not been out under a lady’s saddle for months, Your Grace. She’ll need a close eye.’
A warning if ever Alistair heard one. It seemed Litton had decided to add his wife to the list of people he cared about. Up to now the list had only had one name on it. His own.
‘I’ll take care,’ Alistair said.
Litton’s glance flickered over Alistair’s shoulder, warning him that their topic of conversation had arrived.
Alistair turned to greet her. Her hat was a version of the one he wore, a black beaver, the crown not quite so tall, and adorned with a scrap of net and a peacock-feather cockade. Very stylish. Hopefully it wasn’t only for show and she rode just as well as she looked.
Julia had patted her mount’s neck, checked the girth and adjusted the stirrup with a confident hand before signalling her readiness to mount.
He bent, lacing his fingers together. She adjusted her habit, raising it a fraction, presenting him with a view of a beautifully cut riding boot and a smidgeon of pretty calf. His breath caught in his throat as he recalled the last time he’d had his hands on that calf. How silken her skin had been. How responsive her body to his touch. Once more his body hardened and he bit back a curse at the discomfort. She stepped into his palms and he boosted her into the saddle.
Bella, who up to that moment had been a perfect lady, shifted uneasily.
Alistair’s heart gave a thump. He reached for the bridle, then snatched his hand back as Julia expertly brought the animal under control. She patted Bella’s neck. ‘Easy, girl. You know me. We have had several conversations these past few days.’ The mare settled under her soothing hand and quiet words.
That. He wanted that, her hands on him, soothing, stroking, gentling and perhaps even—He cut the thought off.
Self-disgust at this rare lack of restraint rose in his throat. He forced it down where it belonged—with the shame of his past. He reached for Thor’s reins, while she continued to pat Bella’s neck.
He quelled his body’s unruly response with effort and forced his mind to the task at hand. It seemed his wife was an accomplished horsewoman. What else about her did he not know?
And why would he care?
He swung up on to his horse and they moved off. Outside in the square, Alistair brought Thor up alongside Bella. ‘We’ll go by way of Park Lane. It should be reasonably quiet at this time of the morning. Stay close.’
‘Lay on, MacDuff.’
He’d like to lay on her. The thought crept into his mind unbidden.
Damnation. More adolescent nonsense he could do without. More visions of temptation. He shifted in the saddle.
While her husband might not have been thrilled at having her along on his morning ride, at least he had accepted her presence with a modicum of graciousness. She’d half expected him to refuse to allow her to go at all. Her first husband had refused her anything that might give her pleasure. In his eyes, she hadn’t deserved it.
The day was perfect for riding. A slight breeze, a few puffy clouds and not too much heat. With years having passed since she’d been on horseback, she intended to make the most of every
