“Go, then.” His hands fell away from her, and she began to walk away. “But Beatrix . . .”

She paused and glanced at him uncertainly. “Yes?”

His gaze held hers. “I want my shaving brush back.”

A slow grin curved her lips. “I’ll return it soon,” she promised, and left him alone in the moonlight.

Chapter Sixteen

“Beatrix, see who’s here!” Rye came to the paddock with Albert padding beside him.

Beatrix was working with a newly acquired horse, which had been badly trained as a colt and sold by its disgruntled owner. The horse had a potentially fatal habit of rearing, and had once nearly crushed a rider who had been trying to discipline him. The horse started uneasily at the appearance of the boy and dog, but Beatrix soothed him and had him begin a slow circle around the paddock.

She glanced at Rye, who had climbed onto the fence and sat on the top rail. Albert sat and rested his chin on the lowest rail, watching her with alert eyes.

“Did Albert come alone?” Beatrix asked, perplexed.

“Yes. And he wasn’t wearing a leash. I think he must have run away from home.”

Before Beatrix could reply, the horse stopped and began to rear irritably. Immediately she loosened the reins and leaned forward, sliding her right arm around the horse’s neck. As soon as the horse began to come down, Beatrix urged him forward. She doubled the horse in tight half circles, first to the right, then to the left, and began him forward again.

“Why do you double him like that?” Rye asked.

“It’s something your father taught me, actually. It’s to impress on him that he and I must work together.” She patted the horse’s neck and kept him at a sedate walk. “One must never pull on the reins when a horse is rearing—it could cause him to fall backward. When I feel him getting light in the front, I urge him forward a little faster. He can’t rear as long as he’s moving.”

“How will you know when he’s straightened out?”

“There’s never an exact moment when one knows,” Beatrix said. “I’ll just keep working with him, and he’ll improve little by little.”

She dismounted and led the horse to the railing, and Rye stroked his satiny neck. “Albert,” Beatrix said conversationally, bending to pet the dog. “What are you doing here? Have you run off from your master?”

He wagged his tail enthusiastically.

“I gave him some water,” Rye said. “Can we keep him for the afternoon?”

“I’m afraid not. Captain Phelan may be worrying after him. I’m going to take him back now.”

The boy heaved a sigh. “I would ask to go with you,” he said, “but I have to finish my lessons. I so look forward to the day I know everything. Then I won’t have to read any more books or do any more counting.”

Beatrix smiled. “I don’t wish to be discouraging, Rye, but it’s not possible to know everything.”

“Mama does.” Rye paused reflectively. “At least, Papa says we must pretend she does, because it makes her happy.”

“Your father,” Beatrix informed him with a laugh, “is one of the wisest men I’ve ever known.”

It was only when Beatrix had ridden halfway to Phelan House, with Albert trotting alongside, that she recalled she was still dressed in boots and breeches. No doubt the outlandish attire would annoy Christopher.

There had been no word from him in the week after the ball at Stony Cross Manor. And although Beatrix had certainly not expected him to pay a call on her, it would have been a cordial gesture on his part. They were neighbors, after all. She had gone out walking every day, hoping to encounter him on a long ramble, but there was no sign of him.

It couldn’t have been more obvious that Christopher wasn’t interested in her, in any regard. Which led Beatrix to the conclusion that it had been a grave mistake to confide in him. She had been presumptuous in assuming that her problem was comparable to his.

“Recently I realized that I’m no longer in love with him,” she told Albert as they neared Phelan House. “It’s such a relief. Now I’m not at all nervous about the prospect of seeing him. I suppose this is proof that what I felt for him was infatuation. Because it’s completely gone now. I couldn’t care less about what he does or whom he marries. Oh, what a feeling of utter freedom.” She glanced at the dog, who didn’t look at all convinced by her statements. She sighed heavily.

Reaching the entrance of the house, Beatrix dismounted and handed the reins to a footman. She suppressed a sheepish smile as she saw how he was gaping at her. “Keep my horse at the ready, please. I’ll be only a moment. Come, Albert.”

She was met at the front door by Mrs. Clocker, who was taken aback by her attire. “Why, Miss Hathaway . . .” the housekeeper faltered, “you’re wearing . . .”

“Yes, I’m so sorry, I know I’m not presentable, but I came in a dash. Albert appeared at Ramsay House today, and I’m delivering him back to you.”

“Thank you,” the housekeeper said in a distracted manner. “I hadn’t even noticed he was missing. With the master not himself . . .”

“Not himself?” Beatrix was instantly concerned. “In what way, Mrs. Clocker?”

“I shouldn’t say.”

“Yes you should. I’m the perfect person to confide in. I’m very discreet—I only gossip to animals. Is Captain Phelan ill? Did something happen?”