Page 86 of The Music of Love

The viscountess glanced down at her. “Don’t worry, the ride we’ll take today is quite gentle.” Her thin lips twisted while her pale eyes glinted. Could that be humor?

Rowena’s gray habit was exquisite, just as all her clothes were. Portia wouldn’t be surprised to learn she had a habit to match each horse. With her pale skin and light blond hair she looked and rode like a Valkyrie. Portia tried not to hate her but the woman did not make that an easy proposition.

“You did not grow up around horses, Mrs. Harrington?”

“I grew up in Rome. Horses were neither feasible nor necessary.” Portia wasn’t entirely able to keep the sharpness from her voice. “You, I see, are an expert. You said your father keeps a hunting box; do you hunt?”

“Yes, I quite enjoy hunting.”

Portia wasn’t surprised to hear it. “Do you go often to your father’s property?”

“A few times a year.”

“It is close to here?”

“It is almost directly inland from here—in the hunting country, north of Modbury.” The viscountess turned away, clearly not interested in making conversation.

Portia couldn’t help wondering why the woman had been so insistent on dragging her out riding if she didn’t wish to speak to her. No doubt she’d just wanted to humiliate her on horseback. They took a narrow path that led toward the nearby woods. The trees swallowed them up and the castle disappeared from view. The air was humid and heavy and sound was muffled by the lush canopy of greenery. Portia quickly realized the small forest was more extensive than it appeared. Most of it was below the level of the park and sloped toward the stream.

“Do you feel it?” Lady Pendleton asked her.

“Feel it?” Portia repeated.

“This wood is ancient—some of these trees are hundreds and hundreds of years old. Many were here long before the Harringtons and they’ll be here after we’re gone.” Portia could not see her face but her voice throbbed with hushed reverence.

Interesting. Here, it seemed, was something the disdainful daughter of a duke appreciated: land, the badge of the English aristocracy. Before Portia could pursue the topic the viscountess spoke.

“How are you enjoying your visit to Thurlstone so far?”

“Very much, thank you. Your hospitality means a great deal to both my husband and me.”

“You must forgive the earl if he seems rather rigid in his behavior. I’m afraid he is not a demonstrative man.”

Portia was tempted to point out he was very demonstrative when it came to exhibiting his disdain, but held her tongue. She could well believe this cold woman thought such haughty behavior admirable. Indeed, she was rather undemonstrative herself, except when it came to demonstrating scorn.

The path narrowed and the viscountess slowed. “You go ahead of me, Mrs. Harrington. This is wide enough only for one. It is also somewhat steep, but only for a short while.”

The branches of the surrounding trees almost touched them and the path sloped sharply. They rode in silence for a few minutes as the trail cut back and forth, zigzagging down the steep hill. The trail had just begun to straighten when the sound of hooves came from behind them.

Portia tensed, hoping the rider would see them before they ended up on top of them. She risked a quick glance behind her even though she was terrified of the steep, narrow path ahead.

“Do you hear—”

“Hallo! Hallo, Portia!” a voice called.

Portia sighed with relief: it was Frances, and the hooves thundered to a halt.

“Frances, what are you doing here?” Rowena asked, sounding irritated.

“I ran into Stacy and he said you were going for a ride with Portia. I thought I’d join you as I missed my usual ride this morning.”

Portia couldn’t help smiling. So, she’d actually exchanged words with Stacy? Good for Frances! She was about to tell Frances she was glad she’d joined them when she heard a loud crack and her hat was torn from her head. Honey reared and made a noise that sounded very much like a baby screaming.

And then she bolted.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Portia’s screams joined Honey’s as the reins flew from her hands and the horse surged forward. Voices rang out behind her as she fumbled for a handful of Honey’s mane. She grabbed for the reins and almost flew over Honey’s head. By some miracle she managed to snag one of the reins. She pulled back with all her might but the horse had the bit and no amount of yanking would stop her.