His smile fell, and he immediately began to refuse.
“My lady, you mustn’t! That’s the Duke’s –”
“I know, do not worry.” She dismissed him and entered the stable, emerging moments later with a cube of sugar in the palm of her hand.
“My lady, please reconsider –”
Agnes held up a hand to shush him, slowly approaching the horse from the side so she could come around to stand before him. Once she had his attention, she extended her hand out,offering the cube resting in her palm. The horse sniffed at her hand and accepted her offering, stepping closer to her as it chewed on the sugar cube. Agnes smiled to herself at her decision that stemmed from the fact that she had guessed that if this was indeed Silas’ favorite horse, he was likely very strict about the creature’s diet and would most likely not allow him to have any sugar.
Her father always told her, “the fastest way to befriend any living thing is to offer them something they would not be able to refuse.”
The easiest way to get the beast to trust her was to give him a treat, and by the time her fingers scratched between his ears, she knew that she had gotten him on her side.
“Hello,” she whispered, smiling when the horse huffed in her face. “What’s your name, handsome?”
“Scar,” Ella supplied from a few feet away, shrugging when the housekeeper glared at her. “Mrs. Safield, she seems very set on having her way. I doubt we would make things worse than they already are by telling her the horse’s name.”
“Scar,” Agnes tested out the name softly, stroking the horse’s neck. “That’s quite a name. It suits you.”
The horse leaned into her touch with a curt neigh, and she smiled, carefully reaching for the reins, holding it with one hand and guiding him into a slow trot while the other hand stayed scratching his neck. After about a minute or two of walkingaround, she decided to try and see if he trusted her enough to let her ride him.
With a final scratch to his jaw, she moved to his side and tightened her grip on the reins along with a tuft of his mane, wedging a foot through the stirrup. Her other hand came up to grab at the cantle of the saddle, and she sprung up off her feet, tossing her right leg over the saddle as she settled gently on top of it properly. Scar shuffled around, seemingly adjusting to the new weight on his back, but he didn’t react badly otherwise.
Smiling at her success at mounting him, she adjusted the reins to ensure that she had a good but loose enough grip on them and sat upright, squeezing the horse’s sides with her lower leg. Scar began to move forward almost immediately, and she released the pressure, letting him start off at a comfortable pace.
The ladies and Simon watched her trot off, and Beatrice took her eyes off her mistress for a moment to ask. “It seems to be going well so far. Do you think things will be fine after all?”
Marion watched Agnes ride farther away from the stable and sighed.
“We can only hope so, but regardless of what happens, we are already in deep trouble. No amount of prayer can save our souls at this point.”
Meanwhile, she had begun to gallop along the field, relishing the way the wind blew through her hair, the powerful way Scar landed with every step, moving further and faster with eachbreath she took. She could not remember the last time she felt this free, this… alive. She had not gotten to ride as much as she wanted to with her godmother, and it had severely dampened her spirits.
Now, she lived on the same grounds as a wonderful horse that felt as though it had been born straight from her desires. It was like with every passing moment, she felt reassured that things would improve, and truly, it was almost a matter of time before all that she wanted was laid before her.
Silas stepped down from the carriage and winced as he felt a crick in his neck, an effect of sitting through several work meetings and hours spent going over so many documents that required his review and signatures in order for numerous decisions to be carried out for his businesses. His body felt heavier with each step he took, and he could not wait to take a bath, eat some food, and crawl beneath his covers, and pretend he knew nothing and no one outside of them.
As he approached the front door, laughter reached his ears and he came to a stop. Confused, he walked around the house, following the sound to the stable, eyes narrowing as he spotted the housekeeper, alongside two other maids and Simon, watching something in the distance.
“What on earth –” the words evaporated from his mind and throat as he followed their gazes and spotted Scar running around the grounds.
And on his back was Silas’ future wife.
At first, he could not find it in himself to do anything but stare in shock.
Scar was not known to be friendly. He could be quite vicious to new people, and even when he accepted their presence, it never transcended beyond tolerance. Many of the stable hands before Simon had problems because Scar would not let anyone else ride him except for Silas.
And yet, this woman had somehow charmed his horse after barely a day in his home. Even Scar appeared to be enjoying himself, galloping around with a seemingly gleeful demeanor as they went round and round the grounds. Agnes’ hair was whipping behind her in the wind as they moved, and her face looked flushed with joy – an expression that suited her greatly –
Silas’ fists curled by his side, and he stepped closer, ignoring the servants as they hurriedly bowed and greeted him, shouting at the woman riding his horse.
“Stop that! Get off him this instant!”
Agnes heard him and sighed, slowing Scar to a trot and leading him to where his owner stood, looking down at him with a frown.
“I said to get off him!” Silas snapped, looking angry.
Agnes did not heed him until they had gotten close to where the Duke was standing with the servants, and then she dismounted, turning to him with an irritated expression.