Beside her, Dominic’s horse snuffled. He tossed his head. Her own mare responded with a whinny.
Dominic chuckled. “They are bored with our silence.”
She patted her mare’s chestnut flanks, appreciating the sleek hide beneath her fingertips, the way sensation grounded her to the present and made her forget that ashy taste in her mouth. “Nonsense. They are animals. They’re simply responding to external stimuli. A fly, perhaps.”
“Where is your imagination?”
“In my brain, where it belongs,” she responded pertly. Perhaps this trip would not be so onerous after all. “I am interested in seeing the village after the cemetery. My supply of chamomile is running low, and I’d like to get more feverfew.”
“You’re demanding for a governess.”
“It’s temporary.”
“Your demands?”
“Don’t sound so hopeful.” She shot him a grin. “The position.”
“Ah, yes. Being a governess does not suit you.”
She drew her horse to the left, as it kept gravitating toward St. Raven’s. “No, that is not it at all. I enjoy teaching Louise.”
“Bossing her about.”
“Really, my lord, do you want to have a conversation or are you going to persist in sniping at me the entire trip.”
He chuckled, an easy roll of laughter. “I am only returning the favor.”
“I don’t snipe at you.” She touched the horse with her heels, determined to leave the earl behind.
He sped up, drawing his mount close to hers. “Don’t be so prissy, Retta. I’m jesting. Tell me more about your herbs, if you want.”
“Prissy? Retta?” She pressed her lips together to give him the impression she was highly irritated, when in fact, for the oddest second, her stomach flipped and she felt unaccountably pleased by his teasing tone. They had grown even closer, somehow.
He quit his teasing to ask her about herbs, and as she spoke, warming to her subject, she remembered how fulfilling it felt to fix people’s hurts. Before she knew it, they were cresting the hill that led to Morningside Manor. Dominic had listened so well, and asked so many intelligent questions, that she’d forgotten herself and monopolized the conversation.
Louise pounded over, her small mare’s dark mane streaming in shining wisps. Her broad grin betrayed her excitement. “Is this where you grew up? Why, it’s lovely. The most lovely, flowery home I’ve ever seen. There is ivy growing up the walls, Henrietta!”
Before they could respond, she whirled her horse around and galloped the rest of the way up the hill, then disappeared over its top.
“I guess that means my cousin rebuilt.”
“Your cousin? William Gordon did not inherit?”
She shook her head, slowing her horse as they neared the top. A bitter unwillingness to see her former home choked her. “He is the third son. My father was the oldest. The second son inherited, but I believe he died several years ago, leaving my cousin as owner.”
“Perhaps we should pay a call.”
“No, no, I would rather not. That is no longer my world.”
They were getting closer now. Closer to seeing the place she tried to never think of. The childhood she’d deliberately forgotten until memories took her dreams hostage.
Dominic said, “Do you not find it unfair that your uncle pulled you from what could have been a life of wealth and comfort? He thrust you into a life of war, a life not fit for a lady of your stature.” Though he spoke gently, Henrietta felt the sting of his opinion.
She loosened her grip on the reins, which were digging into her palms. Remembering brought more pain. They reached the top of the hill, and there was Morningside Manor.
Rebuilt.
Splendid in the morning wash of sunlight, gleaming with good health and care. Louise had been right. There were several colorful gardens visible from here, planted in careful symmetry around the rectangular structure of the house. A catch of breath was trapped in her throat and for a long second, she was certain her heart forgot to beat.
“I expected rubble,” she said quietly. Her horse stomped, impatient to keep moving, but she did not want to go any closer. Louise sat at the base of the hill while her mare snacked on the succulent grass.
“Why?”
“I suppose that moment in my life is frozen in my memory. I left and never came back.”
“But you knew your uncle would inherit. You must have known they’d rebuild.”
“I suppose I did not think too closely about it. I threw myself into studying the human body, various diseases, how to heal people. The past remained shut away, a painful time I refused to dwell on.” She could not look at him, for a betraying sting pricked her eyelids. She needed a moment to compose herself, to concede that the world had moved on while she remained ensnared by the past.
She inhaled, dismayed that it was a shaky, unsure breath. “My aunt and uncle tried to take me in. But I was fifteen. I was being groomed to enter society, to make an advantageous marriage, and I was angry. Furious that my parents had been taken from me. Uncle William came for the funeral. While the others were weeping and having fits of vapors and multiple glasses of cognac, he was stoic. He stood at the grave strong and in control.” She blinked and, once sure her eyes were dry, looked over at Dominic. His somberness encouraged her to continue. “I admired his fortitude. I watched him, and I did not cry, either. We had a chance to speak and I found that a gargantuan curiosity lived inside of him, the same that breathed within me. He was a university-trained physician who expanded his knowledge by performing surgeries. He did not care that gentlemen are not to work. He was breaking societal molds. Doing important things with his life. And he was so kind. It is in his eyes, Dominic, a great and charitable kindness that reminded me of my father. And so I chose to go with him.”
“I am surprised your guardians agreed.”
“They did not, at first. There was a great fuss involved. My aunt had no
