"I know. It is terrifying." At the door, he paused. "Caroline." She looked at him. "I am going riding Thursday. With my horse."
"With my horse?" She narrowed her eyes. "Orion is still mine until he leaves this property."
"Then perhaps you should accompany us to supervise the transfer."
Caroline understood: an invitation. Not grand, not formal, not a ducal carriage arriving with flowers—a ride on a horse she loved. She should have refused.
Instead, she said, "Ten o'clock."
Nicholas inclined his head. "Ten."
He left. Caroline remained in the drawing room. Several seconds later, her mother entered from the adjoining room carrying embroidery. Caroline stared at her.
"Were you listening?"
"No, Mama."
"I was embroidering very near the door."
"That is listening with thread."
Frances sat. "Did he cheer you?"
Caroline looked toward the door through which Nicholas had disappeared. "Yes."
Her mother began embroidering. "Interesting."
"Do not."
"I said nothing."
"You said it loudly."
Frances smiled.
Caroline went to the window. Outside, Nicholas crossed toward his waiting horse. He spoke to the groom. Then, as though he felt her watching, he looked back—straight toward the window. Caroline stepped away instinctively. Her heart gave one strange, unexpected beat. She frowned at it; it had caused enough trouble already.
The ride on Thursday lasted two hours. Nicholas did not attempt to impress her. This surprised Caroline; she had expected some display. Men of rank often performed modesty in ways that required everyone to notice how modest they were being. Nicholas simply arrived.
Orion attempted to bite him. Caroline laughed for nearly a minute.
Nicholas regarded the horse. "I have changed my mind."
"You cannot. Eight hundred guineas."
"I shall sell him."
"To whom?"
"France."
"You monster." Orion attempted to bite him again. Nicholas stepped aside. "Perhaps Spain."
Caroline laughed again.
They rode through the western fields. At first they spoke about horses, then land, then a proposed road that Sir William opposed. Nicholas disagreed with Sir William; Caroline disagreed with Nicholas. By the time they reached the ridge above the river, they were arguing.
"You cannot simply move a road because the map appears cleaner," Caroline said.
"I did not say cleaner."
"You said efficient. They are not synonyms."
"In your mouth, they are."
Nicholas looked at her. "What an alarming amount of attention you pay to my mouth."
Caroline nearly dropped her reins. He continued riding.
"Nicholas Ravenscroft."
"Yes?"
"That was shameless."
"Accurate, however."
She felt herself blush. He saw; mercifully, he said nothing.
They reached the ridge. Below them, winter fields stretched toward the river, brown and gold beneath a pale sky. Caroline became quiet. Nicholas waited.
Finally, she said, "Samuel and Cecilia leave for London tomorrow. I heard they want me to visit after the wedding."
"And will you?"
"Eventually."
Nicholas looked toward the river. "You needn't be heroic."
Caroline frowned. "What?"
"You have decided, I suspect, that because neither of them did anything wrong, you have no right to need distance."
She stared at him. It was infuriating: he had done it again, seen something she had not said. "They are my friends."
"Yes."
"I love Cecilia."
"I know."
"I don't want her happiness to become something she has to apologize for."
"Good."
"So, I should behave normally."
"No."
Caroline blinked. "No?"
"You should behave honestly."
"That sounds inconvenient."
"Most worthwhile things are."
She looked away. "How honest?"
"Enough to stop punishing yourself for being hurt."
Caroline's throat tightened. Nicholas continued looking ahead; he did not watch her reaction. Another kindness. Perhaps that was what made her answer.
"I thought he was going to marry me."
"I know."
"I had imagined the house." Nicholas's jaw tightened. "The rooms, the garden. I even thought about whether I would move the breakfast table, because Samuel hates morning light directly in his eyes." She laughed bitterly. "How absurd is that?"
"Not absurd."
"I planned where a table would stand in a house no one had asked me to live in."
"You hoped."
"I invented."
"Both can be true."
Caroline looked at him. Nicholas finally met her eyes.
"You," she said softly. "You always know what to say."
"No."
"You seem to."
"I know what not to say, which is that Hartley is a fool. That you are better without him. That you will forget him tomorrow. That everything happens for a reason."
Caroline smiled faintly. "I particularly hate the last one."
"As do I."
"Why?"
"Because people generally say it when they cannot think of a reason."
She laughed. The wind lifted a strand of hair across her cheek. Nicholas wanted to reach for it. He did not. That restraint was becoming a profession.
Caroline looked at him for a long moment. "Why are you doing this?"
"Riding?"
"You know what I mean."
Nicholas's pulse changed. Not yet. He could tell her now. He could end the uncertainty. But Caroline was still speaking about another man's breakfast table. He would not ask her heart to change owners like property.
So he smiled. "Perhaps I like arguing with you."
"You can argue with anyone."