Free The Marquess and Miss Davies by Amy Lake

sure she did not care that the marquess preferred Isolde’s charms to her own. Or worse, that he could not tell the difference.
    Fortunately, the baron bowed to her as the music faded without suggesting that their conversation continue, and she did not need to wait long before Isa was at her side.
    “He knew,” said Isolde, without preamble.
    Carys let out a breath. He had not mistaken one twin for the other, then.
    “But—”
    “Information. Tactics.”
    “Good heavens. What—”
    “A matter between the two of us.”
    Carys stared at her sister. The two of us had ever meant her and Isa. But not in this case.
    “Don’t fuss. You can have your revenge at my next lesson.”
    * * * *
    She saw him one last time at the Lincolnshire’s ball, very late in the evening as she and Isa were making their way out, by degrees. He was talking with a group of young gentlemen, none of whom she knew by name. They were at some distance, but as her glance fell on his back—with those broad shoulders and the dark hair cut short, she recognized him immediately—he turned in their direction.
    The Marquess of Clare smiled at Miss Carys Davies, as his warm eyes found her own.
     

Chapter 15: Change in Plan
     
    Carys watched her sister carefully while keeping her mouth firmly shut. Isolde would do this on her own or not at all.
    According to Jeffers, the groom, Isa had visited the stables nearly each day since Jesse had arrived, and the horse now got restive if she did not appear at her usual time. She wore the forest green riding habit for these visits—a few alterations had been all that was necessary once the thing was dragged from the lavender and aired—and told the groom that she wanted the stallion to be accustomed to her dressed in that fashion.
    Speaking of Jesse—
    The stallion’s ears were perked, as if he knew something unusual was about to happen. Carys had been worried that no-one had ridden him for a fortnight, but it could not be helped. As best it could be accomplished he and her twin must make an inseparable pair, reliant on each other as they made their way through the world.
    “So,” Isolde was saying to the horse, “what do you think?”
    Jesse regarded her evenly. They were communing on some level that Carys could not share, and she felt the unaccustomed pang of being divided from her twin.
    And then, without a glance back, Isa slowly reached out and touched the stallion’s forehead. Gently, as if he was a bird, as Talfryn had taught them both so long ago. Carys bit her lip and watched Jesse’s ears. A horse might respond to the touch with anything from a friendly huff to—if ‘twas the devil’s own animal, of which Carys had seen one or two—rearing up and beating the air with their hooves.
    If he rears up or nips at her Isa will never ride.
    Jesse did not move. Isolde stroked his forehead and then brushed her fingers lightly along the side of his neck. She took a deep, unsteady breath.
    “All right,” she said, turning to Carys. “I’m ready.”
    At that moment the stallion nickered faintly, and Carys imagined a plaintive note to the sound.
    “Excellent. We can return tomorrow, and—”
    “No. Today. I ... I want to try the saddle.”
    “That’s not what we planned. Sitting is not on the schedule for today.”
    Isolde turned back to Jesse. “Did you hear that? Sitting is not on the schedule for today.”
    Carys had developed a list of activities—all written down, and numbered—and each activity was designed to prepare Isa for the next. Today Isa was only to touch the horse. According to the plan, there would be no actual sitting for at least another week, at which time—assuming all went well—they would put Isolde astride, several minutes in the saddle and perhaps a step or two, all without leaving the stable.
    “Jesse says the schedule is nonsense.”
    Carys groaned. “Isa, I’m not arguing with a horse .”
    Real riding would commence, one hoped, on the week following, when they