Page 46 of The Gentlewoman Companion

Where had that come from? He shook free of the stray image and prodded Cinnamon, who pulled a fraction ahead. With one straight remaining, the race was nearing an end, victory close at hand.

His mother stood at the finish, clapping and…bouncing? It was not his imagination. She bobbed on her toes. But Cinnamon was slowing.

“Come it!” he yelled. He nudged the donkey’s haunches. Still, the animal slowed. “An apple, remember?” Nothing worked, and Miss Thorpe was gaining, already beside him, but he refused to look at her, would not be distracted by her devious expression.

Cinnamon’s pace deteriorated to a half-hearted trot. To a walk. Cinnamon stopped to nibble the grass. Despite James’s efforts not to glance at the face that he could so easily fancy inches from his own, he looked.

Miss Thorpe’s maniacal grin flashed as she cantered past, and she handily won the race.

James shook his head, though he did not feel the sting of losing. “Come it, old boy. We must finish.” Cinnamon ambled, picking up speed as they passed Miss Thorpe, who leapt from her carriage, waving. James leaned back, pulling the reins. Cinnamon kept on. What was the cue again? He pulled harder. “The word for stop?”

“Ho!” his mother shouted.

“Ho!” Cinnamon halted. James jumped from the carriage and led the donkey back to Jones.

Miss Thorpe was performing a jig, shuffling her feet and kicking her leg behind her, bending back to tap her heel with her fingers. She hopped in a circle, then bowed. “You may call me Nike,” she said seriously.

“More like Hermes,” he said.

She placed her hands on her hips. “Lady Halverton, I believe your son is insinuating I tricked him.”

“He was referencing your cleverness, I am sure,” his mother said.

“You planned this together?” He found the hoax hilarious, especially considering his mother’s involvement. Louisa had worked her magic on him as well, washing his mind of his father, whose disloyalty did not carry the weightiness it had an hour ago.

“You do realize what I’ve won, my lord?” Miss Thorpe asked.

“You want to drive me around the village in the cart?” He could think of nothing he wanted more.

“You must teach me to drive horses, for in London, I will take you around Hyde Park.”

He could not keep from grinning. “You are merciless.”

“Isn’t she?” His mother looked at Miss Thorpe like she was a divine treasure. Maybe she was, but she would not convince him to teach her to manage a pair.

His mother shaded her eyes and squinted into the distance. A carriage approached. “It’s Mrs. Waxpole. Is it really calling hour already?” She dropped her arm. “Hurry away before the two of you become trapped.”

“I shall stay with you, my lady,” Miss Thorpe said, though she glanced longingly toward the trees.

His mother shooed them away. “You have earned a respite, Louisa. Take him to the gardens for a walk, and bring me some cut hydrangeas. Return in an hour or two.”

Miss Thorpe darted around the house in a rapid tiptoe, leaving him behind.

“Make haste, James, unless you want the recipe for Mrs. Waxpole’s latest ointment.”

Lazing the day in the garden was not his custom, though admittedly he’d done nothing more productive lately.

Miss Thorpe peeked around the corner, grinned, and slipped away. He found her sitting on a bench in the middle of the flower garden.

“No use cutting flowers until just before we go inside. The park is enormous. The many gardens, that Greek-looking temple, multiple ponds, a waterfall, the folly, the maze, the rock garden. I’ve spent hours exploring and still find new places.”

“Have you discovered Idyllwild?”

“Perhaps.”

“It’s an overlook atop a knoll, cultivated to look natural. It provides a view of the maze and the hills beyond.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Show me.”