Free The Marquess and Miss Davies by Amy Lake Page A

would pick a sunny day without hint of rain or, gods forbid, thunder. Jeffers would bring the stallion and Carys’s own mount to one of the quietest points in Hyde Park—perhaps just to the northwest of the Serpentine—and make sure that they were settled and calm after the streets of London. The sisters would arrive by carriage.
    “I want to try,” said Isolde. “Today.”
    “There is no need to—”
    “Today.”
    Everyone in the family recognized that tone of voice. Talfryn called it ‘Isa’s foot stomp’.
    It would happen when it happened. And apparently when it would happen was now.
    “Jeffers,” said Carys. “Bring Miss Isolde’s saddle, if you please.”
    Jesse nickered again and Isolde, to the surprise of both Carys and the groom, leaned her head against his neck and sighed.
    * * * *
    Isolde would need to ride sidesaddle, unfortunately. The ton currently insisted on this for ladies, with Carys mentally consigning the rule to perdition. Sidesaddle made everything more difficult, not to mention dangerous, and was one of the reasons she herself had ridden so little in town. At Pencarrow—
    At Pencarrow she rode Leopold astride, through every season and weather. Talfryn had made no objection, nor her mother, as both knew that Carys would ride, and ride fast, and if she was forced to sit her horse sidesaddle, and fell, she would be like to break her neck. Sidesaddle did not lend itself to jumping.
    Isolde stood aside as the groom began brushing down Jesse’s back, ensuring that not a fleck of dirt was left to irritate the animal once the pad was put on. Jeffers, thank the stars, was no fool. He had gone through this procedure with the stallion several times before, until both he and Carys were certain that the animal would tolerate it, and that the fit of the saddle itself was perfect.
    “This is how a lady should ride,” muttered Jeffers, of the sidesaddle. He had become accustomed to Carys riding astride in Cornwall, but never quite approved.
    Carys sighed. ‘Twould be easier for Isa to learn astride, but ‘twould offend the current public tastes. She could just imagine the delight of the London gossips if the Davies twins turned up in Hyde Park sitting with their legs on opposite sides of a horse. Heavens! There would be no end to their mother’s complaints.
    * * * *
    It had certainly gone better than anyone could have expected. Jeffers swung Isa up into the saddle, Jesse did not move an inch, and then the groom led them back and forth in the stable yard for most of a half hour. The first few minutes were worrisome, as Isolde was clearly tense and frightened, but she admitted so—speaking not to Carys, but to Jesse—and the stallion nickered in response, apparently some kind of reassurance, because her sister relaxed, and then apologized. Again, to the horse.
    “I’m sorry Jesse, I’m still a little nervous.”
    And now Isolde could not stop praising the stallion.
    “He is the sweetest animal imaginable,” she told her sister. “He would never hurt me.”
    Carys could not be other than pleased, although she was a bit concerned that Isa insisted on addressing Jesse as if he were a person. A horse, in Carys’s experience, was a horse. There were high-strung animals and placid animals, and every variation in-between, but the one commonality was this: they could not be reasoned with. Still, Isolde was happy and Jesse seemed disinclined to be bothered by small matters. The sisters made plans for the next day in Hyde Park, with Isolde accepting only that they would not attempt to ride if it rained.
     

Chapter 16: The Dowager Marchioness
     
    The Marquess of Clare’s holdings were not, as one might expect, in Ireland. His late father had never tired of pointing this out to all and sundry, explaining that the Leightons came from the town of Clare in Suffolk, itself close by Bury St Edmunds, and as English as it got. ‘Twas an area of low hills and rich pasture, with the marquisate encompassing