Free The Horsemaster's Daughter by Susan Wiggs Page A

place where she had never fit in.

    “You certainly look pleased with yourself, Isadora,” her mother said, gliding into the summer parlor. “Dare I hope you’re actually looking forward to having company?”

    Isadora opened her eyes, the images in her mind vanishing like dust before a chill wind. “I suppose I am, Mother.”

    Sophia Cabot Peabody flickered her fan before her face. “That’s a welcome change. Perhaps I can also count on you to attend Mrs. Fuller’s reading party.”

    “No, Mother. After my dissertation at the last gathering, I doubt I’ll be welcome there again.”

    As a social activity, reading parties were all the rage. The erudite of Louisberg Square and Beacon Hill gathered to exchange ideas, cultivate friendships and sometimes even romance.

    “Do you wonder?” Sophia asked, her voice tinged with equal measures of affection and exasperation. “You cannot truly think that Dr. Channing actually meant for you to argue with his theory about the nature of human emotion.”

    “How could I not? How absurd to claim women are so helplessly governed by their hearts that their heads empty right into them. His lectures are supposed to spark discussion.”

    “But you’re not supposed to prove him wrong.”

    “If he is, why not prove it?” Isadora countered. “The inventor of a theory should be able to defend it. Dr. Channing was simply put out because he could not answer my challenges.”

    “Put out is stating it mildly.” Sophia straightened a fold of Isadora’s black dress. “I suppose the fault is mine for letting you live all those years in Salem. Your great aunt failed to instill in you the most fundamental lessons. Yes, a woman might be much smarter than a man. But if she dares to show it, she becomes a pariah.”

    Isadora squeezed her mother’s hand. “Then I am destined to be a pariah. I have no judgment for this sort of thing. How was I to know he wasn’t looking for a challenge?”

    Sophia smiled wryly. “No man is, my dear. No man.” Her smile widened as she looked past Isadora. “Not even your father,” she murmured, crossing the room to her husband.

    Isadora watched her parents fondly, yet aware of the distance that had always lain between them. She could see the mutual respect they had for one another, could feel the affection they shared, yet she had no clue about the nature of their love. Was there passion? She couldn’t tell. To the outside observer, they were two excessively handsome people, gifted in commerce and conversation, certain of their place in the world. But passion? Did they know of such a thing? Did they care?

    Thankful tapped discreetly on the parlor door. “Your guests have arrived.”

    Isadora’s mouth went dry. This was it, then. The moment she had been waiting for and dreading. She needed her parents’ blessing on this venture.

    “How delightful,” Sophia said, completely ignorant of the true purpose of the meeting. She had assumed it to be merely a social call. “Do show them in.”

    Like a dazzle of sunshine, Lily Raines Calhoun flowed into the room. “Mr. and Mrs. Peabody. Miss Peabody. How kind of you to receive us on such short notice.”

    Ryan entered behind her, looking even more appealing than he had the day before. He wore a well-tailored suit of clothes, though his waistcoat and cravat startled the eye. The cravat was a blinding royal blue, the waistcoat busy with a print of yellow banana fruit and exotic flowers.

    He moved with a rolling gait, the unmistakable aspect of a man of the sea. From the corner of her eye, Isadora could see her father studying Ryan Calhoun, assessing him.

    “Here is my son, Ryan,” Lily said, her graceful hand drawing him forward. He bent first over Sophia’s fingers, then Isadora’s. She thanked heaven for the black moleskin fingerless mitts she wore, for there was something searingly intimate about the gesture, and at least the fabric protected her from direct contact with his