Free His Lordship's Filly by Nina Coombs Pykare

a lot, but there was so much she didn’t know about society. Because of the books and the woman Papa had hired to teach her to read, she’d learned to speak the right way. At least, Andrew should have no complaint about that. But the stories in Mama’s books, stories by men like Shakespeare, weren’t about happy married people, but about people suffering from terrible human emotions like jealousy, rage, and revenge. There was nothing in those stories that could help her deal with Andrew. Nothing at all.
    This sitting and saying nothing was definitely getting on her nerves. She put her book aside and looked at him directly. “Thank you for having Waterloo brought into the city for me. It’s good to have him here with me. I missed him, though we were just separated for one day.”
    “I know you missed him. I know you’re very fond of him.” Andrew smiled at her. “He’s your horse, of course, and he’ll always remain your horse, but I would like to ride him some time. If that’s agreeable with you.”
    She hesitated, unsure whether to tell him. “Yes, Andrew,” she said, finally deciding he should know the truth, “that would be all right with me, but I feel I should warn you—Waterloo’s a woman’s horse.”
    Andrew put his book down and gave her a puzzled look. “Come now, Bridget, what do you mean? There’s no such thing as a woman’s horse. A horse is a horse. And that’s all it is.”
    She might have known he’d take that attitude—men could be so stubborn sometimes—but she knew what she was talking about. Hadn’t she raised the stallion herself from a tiny little foal? She sighed—that superior look on Andrew’s face told her that there was nothing to be gained by arguing with him. Not a word she said would make any difference. He’d already made up his mind.
    Still, she couldn’t refrain from making one last comment. “I am only telling you what I know. He threw that Jerry, didn’t he? At least, that’s what Ned told us. You heard him.”
    Andrew’s smile grew larger and more self-important. “Yes, but I suppose the lad Jerry wasn’t much of a rider. At any rate, we’ll see. I’ve never known a horse I couldn’t ride.”
    Bridget swallowed her smile. Let him believe what he wanted to believe. He would anyway, no matter what she might say. But on Waterloo’s back—or more accurately, flying off it—he would soon discover she was right.
    In the meantime, she said, “Of course not. I know you’re an excellent rider. By the way, I was thinking of putting Ned in charge of Waterloo. Making the boy his personal groom. What do you think of my doing that?”
    Andrew shrugged, his expression nonchalant. “Whatever you decide, Bridget. The stallion is yours.”
    That was one good thing.He didn’t mean to interfere with Waterloo. “Fine,” she said, giving him a grateful smile, “then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”
    “Good.” Andrew picked up his book again, and with a smothered sigh, she picked up her own. The evening stretched on before her, long and somehow lonely.
    * * * *
    When the clock struck ten, Andrew shut his book and turned to Bridget. “Are you tired, my dear?”
    “A little.”
    It was the first time he’d called her by a term of endearment, and somewhat to his surprise, he found it falling naturally from his lips. He decided to be direct. “Then I suggest you go on up and ring for Peggy. She can help you get ready for bed.” He looked down at his book again. “And I’ll be up a little later.”
    “Fine,” Bridget said, getting to her feet. “That’s what I’ll do then.”
    Strange, Andrew thought, that he should find the situation rather embarrassing. She was the one without experience, not he. But he had not been accustomed to thinking of her as a female; indeed, he’d schooled himself not to think of her in that way. So this wrenching around of his perceptions might take some time. Still, he had always thought her beautiful,