Laurens, Stephanie - Cynster 7 - All About Passion

Author:All About Passion
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-05-03T19:52:05+00:00

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Chapter 12

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"Would you like to go riding this morning?"

Francesca looked down the breakfast table. "Riding?"

Gyles set down his coffee cup. "I offered to show you the Gatting property. I'm riding that way this morning. We could amble through the village on our way back."

"I'd like that." Francesca glanced at her gown. "But I'll need to change."

"No rush. I have to meet with Gallagher first—why don't you join us in the study when you're ready?"

She struggled not to blink, not to let her amazement show. "Yes, of course." She forced herself to sip her tea calmly, and wait until he left and had had time to reach his study before pelting up the stairs.

"Millie?" Rushing into her room, she spied the little maid by one wardrobe. "My riding habit. Quickly."

Shedding her gown, she scrambled into the velvet skirt. "Would I like to ride—huh!" He'd avoided asking her until now. Join him in his study? She knew where it was but hadn't set foot inside the room—she hadn't wanted to intrude uninvited into his private space.

Standing before her mirror, she fastened the short jacket and fluffed out her lace jabot. Then she glanced upward. "Thank you, Lord."

There was nothing worse than loving someone, and having no idea whether they would allow themselves to love you in return.

Bootheels tapping, she went quickly down the stairs and strode to his study, her gloves in one hand, her crop swishing, her cap's emerald plume jauntily dancing above one eye. A footman scurried past to open the door for her. She smiled sunnily and swept over the threshold.

Gyles was sitting behind the desk, Gallagher in a chair before it. Gallagher rose and bowed. Gyles had looked up; he smiled easily. "We're almost finished. Why don't you sit down—I'll be ready to leave in a moment."

Francesca followed the direction of his wave and saw a comfortable chair angled in a corner. She went over and sat down, then listened. They were discussing the tenant cottages. She made mental notes for later; she was too wise to evince any overt interest. Not yet. Time enough once he'd invited her opinion; just because he'd asked her to go riding about the estate didn't mean he was ready to let her further into that area of his life.

The estate itself was an arena he could legitimately keep to himself. Many of his standing did, but she hoped he'd allow her to become involved in more than a peripheral way. Large estates were complicated to run—the prospect fascinated her, not the questions of income, output and how many bags of grain each field yielded, but the people, the community spirit, the combined energies that drove any successful group effort. On an estate such as Lambourn, that spirit was reminiscent of that of a large, sprawling family, the prosperity of all interdependent on everyone performing their allotted tasks.

Her view might be naive, but from all he'd revealed of his ideas on the voting franchise, she suspected their opinions would be largely compatible.

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