Free Arcana by Jessica Leake Page A

smooth movement, he dismounts from his horse. His gaze rakes over my appearance; I try to ignore the effect it has coupled with his equally dark hair and eyes, but it still accelerates my heart more than I would like. I frown up at him.
    “Well imagine how horrifying it would be if I were to witness such a thing,” he says. “I would undoubtedly have to go in and save you. We’d both catch cold, and then it would all be for naught.”
    “How morbid you are. Can I not enjoy the view?”
    He ignores my question and peers around. “Where is your mount? Or carriage?”
    “Perhaps I walked here,” I say, my voice betraying my irritation at his abrupt subject change.
    “Don’t play coy, Miss Sinclair.” His grip must tighten on the reins because his horse tosses his head in protest. “Do you need an escort? This park is well attended, but there are areas that can be rather . . . unsavory.”
    “No, I came with my grandmother.” I look back at the shimmering water. “I just wanted a chance to walk.”
    His horse lets out a loud snort and stamps his hoof, and out of reflex, I reach out to stroke his neck.
    “Don’t—” the earl calls out, but cuts himself off when his horse drops his head and allows me to stroke his velvety nose.
    I meet the earl’s look of surprise.
    “I was going to say he has a temper,” he says, “but I can see it was an unnecessary warning.”
    I withdraw my hand and laugh when his horse seeks it out again with his nose. “I’m just used to my own horses. They can be temperamental, too. I wish I had one or two here with me. My grandmother’s are too sedate for my tastes.”
    Lord Thornewood’s eyebrows raise and he smirks at me. “Indeed? You like a mount with more fire?”
    “I wouldn’t describe them so, but I do like a horse that enjoys a faster pace than a trot.”
    “I cannot believe I’m discussing horses with a lady. You haven’t yet learned the infuriating female art of small talk, I take it.”
    I tilt my head at him. “Does my having an opinion on something other than the weather or the latest fashion intimidate you, my lord? If so, I apologize. I shall endeavor to dumb down my conversation posthaste.”
    As soon as the words leave my mouth, I drop my eyes to the horse’s nose. What is wrong with me? How could I speak in such a thoughtless manner to an earl of all people?
    To my surprise, he laughs, the sound delightfully rich. “You have a fascinating manner of speaking, Miss Sinclair. I cannot wait for your coming out. Society won’t know what to make of you.”
    “I was under the impression society does not look kindly upon those who do not follow their rules.”
    “They say that, yes.” He leans closer to me. “But secretly, it fascinates them.”
    “That is very good to know since I would like to avoid excessive attention.”
    And I’ve said too much again. What debutante wants to avoid attention? Preposterous. I shouldn’t be allowed to speak.
    His eyes appraise me. “I very much doubt you will be able to avoid it. Perhaps if you avoid singing, playing the piano, or speaking.”
    Before I can answer, two ladies call out to Lord Thornewood on their way down to the river. They are both dressed in crisp white blouses, dark skirts, and corresponding embroidered jackets. They walk with mincing ladylike steps, and though I am wearing an equally expensive outfit, I still feel out of place.
    “My lord,” the one with hair nearly the same color as my own says, “how fortuitous of us to stumble upon you here. I don’t believe I have ever seen you at Hyde Park.” Her eyes dart from his face to mine, and I can see she very much wants to ask who I am and why we are alone talking by the river, but to do so would be impolite. In any case, it’s hardly my fault no one else is around.
    “Good morning, Miss Gray. Miss Uppington.” He holds a gloved hand toward me. “Allow me to do the honor of presenting the Honorable Katherine Sinclair, here in town for her