Andrew Lord of Despair(35)

As Andrew patiently explained to Magic not every ride was going to be a tearing gallop, and the mare placidly ambled off toward the bridle path, Astrid inhaled a bracing lungful of crisp autumn air. The morning was glorious, and she was glad to be alive.

And besides, hadn’t Andrew intimated that he cared for her?

Well, her, the mare, somebody… She glanced over her shoulder, to see Magic curveting and crow-hopping while Andrew sat, tall, serene, and smiling, atop the beast.

“You,” he informed the horse, “are a great looby. You can see our ladies are striking out fearlessly”—Magic shot up, seemingly off all four feet at once, and kicked out behind—“but you insist on these silly tantrums.”

When the horse came down, he stood still, as if waiting for something.

“Isn’t that a cavalry maneuver?” Whatever it was, it was magnificently athletic. “The thing he just did, where he leaps and kicks out? It was quite grand.”

Andrew patted the horse’s neck. “Where in the world would you have seen cavalry maneuvers?” Magic walked forward, his antics of a few minutes ago apparently forgotten. “I do believe,” Andrew addressed his mount, “the Marquess of Heathgate is going to regret the day he parted with you. But you and I will not regret it one bit, will we?”

Magic was, of course, greatly discommoded by the flapping and squawking of the ducks, and once again broke into his peculiar antics. Andrew apparently used cues known only to him—and Magic—because the horse again offered a version of the same athletic maneuver.

“Merciful heavens, you two,” Astrid remarked, “would you stop showing off? We are quite impressed but would both like to see you safely home.”

And if this display from the horse only entertained Andrew, what would it take to unnerve him?

“So you would care if I came to grief?” Andrew teased.

Her in-laws would be underfoot tomorrow—a matter of all too few hours. Astrid brought her mare to a halt and regarded Andrew on his skittish, magnificent black horse. “I love you, and I am in love with you. The last thing I need right now is another occasion for grief. Now toddle on, shall we?”

He had nothing to say to that, not that she’d expected anything, save perhaps some teasing. When they got to the stable yard, grooms came out to take both horses. Andrew for once did not look after his own beast, but offered Astrid his arm.

“You shouldn’t say such things, you know,” he chided gently as they walked toward the house.

“What you mean is that I shouldn’t feel such things, and I agree. Loving you is a very inconvenient business.”

“I am flattered.” He sounded more troubled than anything else.

“You are burdened,” Astrid retorted, giving him a sad smile. “I deem you to be a lovable man, and you cannot accept that. I don’t know why, Andrew, but I know this is what you sincerely believe. And yet, your brother, who is no fool, surely loves you, as does my sister, as does your mother. I suspect every horse in that stable loves you as well, and their judgment, as we both know, is infallible.”

He continued to walk beside her. Astrid expected him to explode into a display of athletics that might take him to, say, Tuscany.

When he remained quiet at her side, she forged on as they strolled through the overblown asters and chrysanthemums. “You need not fear I will importune you for a return of these inconvenient sentiments. I have already been trapped in a marriage with one man who didn’t love me. You, at least, desire me, and I do not believe you are entirely indifferent to me otherwise.”

“I care for you.”

“Famous.” The gardens were well past their prime, as was this discussion. Astrid addressed her next remark to a bed of drooping roses. “You care for me. Given the nature of my appalling admission, I will understand if you forego coming to my room, though I will certainly miss you if that is your decision.”

He stood, gazing down at her, his expression pained, while the silence lengthened.

Damn her wagging tongue, damn her honesty, but mostly, damn whatever pain it was that kept him silent.

“Andrew, you needn’t trouble over this, for just as you have determined you cannot be loved, I have determined I will not stop loving you. I don’t know what kind of love could be so cautious or fickle it died in the face of a challenge. I also don’t know how to love carefully, which is probably the best you could tolerate from me. So will you, nil you. I will be in my bed tonight, loving you, whether you join me or not.”

With that, she dropped his arm and left him standing among the exhausted flowers, staring after her and looking for all the world like he’d just lost his best, last, and only friend.