“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 fine animal, with dark intelligent eyes and a ready step. She was certain he’d give Blackie a good run, if she’d have dared to race today. But perhaps she should try to remember she was a lady for a change.
Together they set off across the pastures toward Kendrick Hall. The air was still cool so close to the mountains, scented with damp earth and growing things. London never smelled this good. No country estate she’d visited matched the crisp scent either. She found herself drawing it in. It smelled like home.
“You’re certain you’re fine,” he asked again, as if noticing her deep breaths.
Samantha felt herself coloring. “I’ve taken a fall or two in my time, sir. There’s no need to fuss over me.”
Immediately she regretted the tartness of her words, but he merely smiled. “Habit. It seems I’ve grown a bit too much into the fatherly role.”
Just as Jamie was outgrowing it, she realized. She remembered how she’d had to accustom herself to her three guardians when her cousins had first arrived at Dallsten Manor on her father’s death. Lord Everard had kept his nephews in the dark about his wife and daughter. Certainly Samantha had never dreamed she had a family until her father had died and his will demanded that she work with her cousins to save her inheritance and theirs.
The will had required her to be presented to the queen, to be welcomed in all the homes who had refused admittance to her scandalous father and to garner an offer of marriage from three eligible gentlemen. One had been from her old friend Toby Giles, one from her cousin Vaughn and one from the brother of the man who rode beside her. Only one requirement remained, and she knew she would never fulfill it now.
“Still, there’s no need to apologize,” she told him as they crossed the stream, the horses’ hooves splashing in the sparkling mountain waters. “You were only trying to protect Jamie. I used to do the same thing when we were younger.”
He held the reins lightly, but his gaze flickered over her. “Did you?”
Could he not see her in that role? “Certainly. He was so cute when he was little, so earnest.” She smiled, remembering. “He would do anything I suggested. I had to be very careful, I promise you.”
He seemed to sit taller in the saddle. “And now you’ve returned,” he said, and something simmered in his warm voice. “But not to stay, it seems.”
The light of day made this conversation no easier than it had been last night. She said the lines she’d rehearsed. “I thought it was time I took a more active role in the summer party. It’s a family tradition, and it’s been years since I even attended.”
“So I understand. Eight, isn’t it?”
Did he think to upbraid her? She offered him a smile and said sweetly, “Less than the nine or more years you were away.”
He grimaced, a quirk of his gentle mouth that reminded her of Jamie. “Your point. I should be the last one to question why someone would want to leave Evendale.”
Or return. She knew why he’d come back, and though she was glad Jamie had been reunited with his father, the knowledge of the part she’d played was a weight on her heart.
“And how go plans for the big event?” he asked as if realizing she was too quiet. Her—quiet! How her cousins would laugh if they knew. She certainly had no trouble talking to anyone else, and she very much feared it wasn’t her guilt that was keeping her tongue-tied.
She could see Kendrick Hall rising ahead of them and directed Blackie to stop.
“Well enough,” she answered him as he pulled his horse up beside hers. “There will be a puppet show, a whirligig and more pies than anyone should safely eat.”
“And dancing in the evening?”
She blushed at his tone and wasn’t sure why. “Certainly, my lord. That is tradition, too.”
“And woe betide us for changing tradition,” he said with a chuckle. “As you did not favor me with a dance last night, I hope you’ll save one for me at the party.”
A dance? With him? Ever since her father had instituted the annual summer party, she’d dreamed of dancing. When she’d left for London, she had been too young, in her governess’s eyes, to participate. The party had been held the past eight years without her as she’d attended one house party after another, from Cornwall in the south to Carlisle in the north, all to fulfill the last requirement of her father’s will. She’d had to delegate the party to her housekeeper and Mrs. Dallsten Walcott.
Now at last and possibly for the last, Samantha was the hostess.
“I will certainly see if I can find time for a dance,” she promised. “But I expect to be very busy, my lord.”
He barked a laugh. “Well, that’s a leveler. I thought all young ladies wished to dance with eligible earls.”
Did he consider himself eligible, then? She thought every lady within miles must be setting her cap at him. Funny. Given his history she’d somehow considered him immune.
“I suppose they do,” she acknowledged. “But I no longer need to attach eligible gentlemen.”