"I confess I'm surprised. I never would have expected Lady Arabella to send her errant daughter here, of all places."
Brie slanted a glance at her companion. "Honestly, Katie, you make it sound as if Caroline has committed some crime and that Greenwood is a den of iniquity. She may be silly, but she is young yet. It was more than luck on my aunt's part that allowed her to discover Caroline's plans and prevent an elopement. Aunt Arabella has always watched her daughters with the eyes of a hawk."
Katherine raised an eyebrow. "So she sends Caroline to you?"
Not liking the implication, Brie stiffened. "Katherine, since my aunt devised this plan herself, I must be in her good graces once again. But I don't appreciate your subtle reminders of my past mistakes. All that happened a long time ago. It was a difficult lesson for me, but I did learn it. I imagine Aunt Arabella thinks I will be sympathetic to my cousin's plight, since Caroline seems to be repeating my history. And as little as I wish to have the girl foisted upon me, sending her to the country is the ideal solution. I expect Caroline will see it as sufficient punishment, since it takes her away from London. Besides, who better than a spinster cousin to show her the error of her ways?"
"Well, you haven't taken to wearing caps yet," Katherine retorted. "I consider you far too young to have charge of a girl like that. Of course, the situation would be different if you were married."
Hearing the introduction of the familiar subject, Brie winced. Her refusal to marry was a frequent point of contention between them. Over the years, there had been any number of highly respectable suitors who had properly applied for her hand, but since her one disastrous experience with love, she had been determined to keep her heart closely guarded. She didn't think she could stand listening to Katherine lecturing her on the subject of marriage this morning, though. It had been bad enough being reminded of her own aborted elopement.
She drained her cup, then rose, bracing herself for the scold that was sure to come. She was wearing buckskin breeches and a coat of faded blue broadcloth that hid the curves of her slender figure. The shapeless outfit, along with her woolen leggings and scuffed leather boots, gave her the appearance of a peasant, and only a close inspection would have revealed that she wasn't the young man she resembled.
Katherine frowned as Brie pulled a peaked cap from her pocket. "Must you go out dressed as a ragamuffin, Gabrielle?" she demanded, addressing Brie by her given name as she always did when she was displeased with her charge.
Trying hard not to lose her temper, Brie deftly twisted her hair on top of her head and stuffed it under the cap. "I have work to do, Katherine. I'm taking Julian's new gelding to the south field this morning." She tucked a few errant curls out of sight and turned up the collar of her jacket, then picked up her riding quirt and leather gloves. Forcing a smile, she bent to kiss Katherine's wrinkled cheek. "Why don't you go upstairs and rest? I should be home for lunch, but don't wait for me." She heard Katherine sigh as she left the room.
She was used to such sighs, for Katherine rarely approved of anything she did. Her unconventional mode of dress in particular was the focus of a running battle between them. For that matter, her father's sister had never approved of her behavior either. Lady Arabella had been shocked by Brie's decision to continue to operate Greenwood as a training stable—considering it just short of scandalous.
Those years had not been easy for Brie. Managing such an enterprise would have been difficult enough for a man, but for a woman, it had been almost a Herculean task. Even Brie's wealth and position as Sir William Carringdon's daughter hadn't helped her, since very few men were willing to do business with a female.
Fortunately, she had been able to rely on John Simms. Upon Sir William's death, John had taken on the responsibility of dealing with the clients, while Brie had handled the training programs for the horses. They had reversed their roles gradually over time, so that now many of the clients dealt directly with her. John had been offered numerous positions elsewhere with the lure of sizable increases in salary, but nothing had been able to entice him to leave Greenwood or shake his devotion to Brie.
Brie's spirits lifted a little when she reached the stables. The anticipation of a brisk ride on a glorious winter's day always held excitement for her, but the smile on John's grizzled face as he saddled her mount made her recall the duke's letter and his promise of patronage. John had worked as hard as she for this moment, Brie reminded herself. She returned his smile, determined not to let her low mood spoil his triumph.
Her costume had been his idea. While boy's clothes might be eccentric on a woman, they were both practical and sensible for the work Brie undertook. And by now most of her neighbors had grown used to her unusual attire. That the slim country lad who sported an ill-fitting blue jacket and rode spirited Thoroughbreds with the abandon of a wild Indian was, in truth, Miss Carringdon of Greenwood was even a source of pride.
Her clothes served her well this morning for they insulated her from the cold. It was still quite chilly. Great curls of steam rose from her horse's nostrils as Brie rode out of the courtyard. The cold air stung her lungs and tinged her cheeks with color, but she breathed deeply, enjoying the fresh scent of snow.
Her mount, the Court Jester, was a young Irish hunter belonging to Julian. At Julian's request, Brie had undertaken to school the horse for the field, for while the bay's action was superb, he was far too excitable when confronting the sights and sounds of the hunt. In the quiet of the winter morning, however, Jester was relaxed and responsive. He cantered easily along the lane, his footing solid in the melting snow and mud. When Brie put him at a low hedge, he took it effortlessly.
She held the horse to a canter, even though his strong pull on the reins indicated his eagerness. Leaving the lane, they bounded over a low stone border and followed a path through the woods to the south field. There were few tracks in the snow, and the only sound disturbing the silence was the muffled beat of Jester's hooves.
The path narrowed at its end. Brie ducked to avoid the low- hanging branches as they whipped by her, but not before the tip of a limb caught her shoulder, loosening a shower of snow. Laughing as a wet clump hit the back of her neck, Brie brought the horse to a halt. Jester snorted impatiently, pawing the ground, but she spoke softly to the animal, calming him as she shielded her eyes against the bright glare and surveyed the lovely scene.
A snow-covered meadow stretched invitingly before her, the sunlight reflecting off its crystalline surface, creating a shimmer of silver and gold. Beyond, the barren browns and grays of the surrounding woods contrasted sharply with the pristine white. Above, the sky sparkled a clear, watery blue.
Brie completely missed seeing the dark horseman who blended into the shadows of the opposite trees. Unaware of his scrutiny, she stood in the saddle and tossed her head back, laughing in sheer delight.
The musical sound carried across the snow to capture Dominic's attention. He had no trouble recognizing Brie, for while a stranger to this particular part of Britain might have mistaken her for a lad, Dominic had held her in his arms and knew quite well the extent of her feminine charms. He laid a soothing hand on the neck of his own restless mount, and from the cover of a thicket, watched.
The field was laid out in the shape of an L, with the two sections separated by a stream. A dozen or so obstacles of varying shapes and sizes had been set up to form a training course. Brie rode Jester in a large circle as she prepared for the first jump, gradually increasing the bay's speed to a steady canter. They took the first fence soaring, while Dominic caught his breath at the unexpected beauty of their winged flight.
Jester settled into a rhythmic stride. Jumping the swollen stream with ease, he cleared the sloping, snow-covered banks with room to spare, before Brie urged him on to the next obstacle. They swept around the bend of the meadow, hugging close to the dense wood, and at the end, turned, making their way upfield again at a steady gallop.
They were approaching the stream when Jester caught sight of the rider in the distance. His ears shot up, then he shied violently, swerving and throwing Brie off balance.
Seeing the icy banks stretching wide before them, Brie tried desperately to regain her seat, but she was still clinging precariously to the horse's neck when they left the ground. The bay cleared the water, but on the far bank, he slipped and stumbled. Giving a mighty lunge, he scrambled up the treacherous slope, while Brie lost her grip entirely. Feeling herself falling, she threw her weight to one side, free of the flailing hooves.
She tucked her body into a tight ball, and the snow softened the impact of her fall, but still she was dazed and breathless by the time she rolled to a stop. She lay there a moment, curled on her side, aware of a painful throb in her shoulder and a loud drumming in her head. When she recognized the sound as approaching hoofbeats, she shifted slowly onto her back, wincing as the bright glare of the sun hurt her eyes. Then she blinked.
For an instant, the dark image of a horse and rider was etched vividly against the sky. The horse was a giant black stallion, its coat a glossy shade of midnight rippling with blue highlights. Brie had seen that horse before at the Lodge stables, but it was Dominic who arrested her attention. He seemed to be an extension of the beautiful animal he sat so effortlessly. He was hatless, and his ebony hair, nearly the same shade as his horse, glinted in the early morning sunlight. The black coat he wore made his broad shoulders seem even more powerfully built and gave him an aura of strength that was almost tangible to Brie's dazed senses.
The image shattered as he dismounted. Above the ringing in her ears, Brie heard him ask if she were injured. She shook her head to clear it and slowly raised herself up on her elbows.
"Are you hurt?" Dominic repeated, his piercing gaze sweeping over her body.
Brie frowned as she looked up at him. She was cold and wet and her shoulder was throbbing abominably, but she wasn't about to admit it to him. "No, I'm not hurt!" she muttered irritably, her denial sounding more like an accusation.