The Marquess and Miss Davies by Amy Lake Read Free Book Online Page A

of any high-born lady or gentleman. Neither twin had acquired it during their schoolroom years in London, but upon their remove to Cornwall and the Pencarrow estate, the viscount had decided that it was time. A small paddock was prepared, a riding master engaged, and two habits sewn and tailored, one of forest green velvet, and the other of a deep plum.
    Isolde adored her habit, which she would have worn around the house all day if permitted, and particularly the shako cap with its feather. Both girls were excited at the idea of riding a horse. The theory of the thing, if you will. And when the weather turned fine, and the morning of the first lesson arrived, each twin was nearly bouncing with anticipation.
    Then reality intervened. Carys took to the endeavor as a fish to water, and for the remainder of their time at the estate when she was not walking through the Bodmin moors she was riding through them. But Isolde—
    ‘Twas something to do with the animal’s size. Talfryn had picked a smallish mare of good disposition for each twin, but from the moment Isa had gotten close enough to see her mount’s true height—seemingly a mile above her own head—and to feel , somehow, the mare’s massive weight, the bones and the muscle and those awful hooves making Isa’s own body seem insignificant and utterly fragile, she had been terrified.
    Heaven knew she had tried. For days Rose—the mare—walked slowly around the inner paddock with the groom at lead, Isa near tears the entire time. And Talfryn, to his credit, had not insisted further.
    “I’m sorry!” she had sobbed to her brother, curled in his arms and shaking. “I’m sorry! I just can’t!”
    Carys, ready to gallop for hours on her own mount, had been confused by her twin’s response. How could the pleasant little mare be frightening? And there had been nothing before that she and Isolde had not done together. She and Talfryn shared a worried conversation outside of Isa’s hearing.
    “I’ve never gone anywhere without her!”
    “Well,” said Tal, “then this will be a first.”
    “Perhaps I should not ride at all,” said Carys.
    But her brother would not hear of it; nor would Isolde, when the plan was broached.
    “We are not,” said Isa, “joined at the hip. I will learn ... cooking while you are out.”
    “Ah. Ha.”
    But Isolde insisted, adding that she would feel responsible for the loss to Carys should her twin stop riding, and this would materially affect her appetite. She would most probably waste away from the guilt.
    “All alone! In my room! Unable to down the tiniest morsel of—”
    “Oh, for goodness sake, enough,” said Carys, laughing. “I give in.”
    So Carys rode alone. But she had never stopped hoping—as Isolde well knew—that someday her sister would be willing to try again.
    Bringing them to the present negotiations.
    “Very well,” she told Isa. “I will go to the Lincolnshire’s ball. And one week from today—”
    “A week!”
    “And one week from today,” insisted Carys, “we will have our first lesson. ‘Twill be only two days after the ball, which I think is reason enough to make an early night of it.”
    “Posh.” But Isolde could count herself satisfied.
    * * * *
    Carys did not want to think about the upcoming ball. Nor did she wish to think about the Marquess of Clare. Not about the dance they might share—would he ask?—nor about the chance that they might walk out onto the balcony afterwards for a bit of cool air and private conversation. Perhaps he would comment that her robin’s-egg blue slippers matched her robin’s-egg blue gown. Perhaps she would make some charming reply.
    Perhaps she would rest her hand on his arm, and he would place his warm fingers over her own, a light caress—
    No, the Lincolnshire’s affair was the last thing on her mind. Carys applied herself instead to the question of riding lessons for Isolde. She would need, first of all, to purchase a horse.
    Two horses, actually.