Page 4 of Silverbow
She felt the smile melt from her face like winter’s last snow. “Not even an hour, and this again?”
“You’re twenty. We should discuss-”
“Practically a spinster,” she snorted, flinging herself back into her chair. She hooked her legs over the side to face him, pinching the bridge of her nose between a thumb and forefinger in exasperation.
“Hardly,” he chuckled. “I’m not rushing you, En, but-”
“Really?” She shot back. “Because it certainly seems like you are.”
He waved a hand. “It’s considered rather rude to let the invitations go unanswered.”
Enya huffed. “And since when do you care? You’ve been spurning invitations for years.”
The familiar shadow of memory crossed his face, and Enya felt a twinge of guilt at the barb. Her mother was, and always had been, hallowed ground when it came to her father.
“I had a wife, and though her time with us was short, I count it amongst the greatest blessings of my life. I only wish the same for you,” he said levelly. Enya’s fleeting guilt ebbed as he barreled on. “Lord Hightower’s eldest-”
“I said no to all of the eldests. I thought the whole point was to not leave Ryerson House,” she snapped.
Her father nodded in concession. “The youngest of Lord Penrose’s boys is-”
“Lord Penrose is a stuffy old bag, and Aric Penrose is a sniveling little brat.”
“You met the boy once, En. And you were six.” Now he held the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger in a gesture that mirrored hers.
“I doubt he’s changed drastically,” she threw back. Despite his exasperation, she saw the corners of his mouth quirk upward in a suppressed smile. “And if I recall, he didn’t even like horses.”
“There are plenty on the list who like horses,” he sighed. “What about Sir Westerton?”
Enya gaped at her father. For him to even suggest the knight was preposterous. “Sir Westerton perches atop his horse and flounces about town like a…like a...drunken hedge night.”
“Enya,” he said warningly.
She waved a hand dismissively over her teacup. “I grow terribly bored of these fools that only want to wed for the house and herd. I don’t know them, and I don’t like them. Besides, if I had a husband, where would we live until he was ready to inherit the house? It’s not as if you’reold.”
“Well,” her father said thoughtfully, casting a look around. “You could take over the primary, and I’ll move upstairs.”
“And how father, do you suggest my dutiful husband and I go about producing an heir when you can hear every sigh in this drafty old house? Do you really want to listen to…” She trailed, satisfied, as her father spluttered.
“I fear I may have failed you, daughter. You spend far too much time with the stable boys,” he muttered.
She pressed her advantage while she had it. “It seems that’s where I belong since you see fit to treat me like a broodmare.”
He gave her a sharp look. “I never implied such a thing and you know it. You are the greatest joy of my life.”
“Not second to Tyndar?” She teased, hoping to steer back to more suitable conversation.
“The horse is worth his weight in gold, my dear, and it is nothing compared to you. Nothing would make me happier than to see you find a love match. A true love match. But you refuse to go to balls, you ignore invitations to tea, and you won’t accept calls from suitors. How exactly do you propose we go about this, Enya?”
“Do you honestly think I’m going to find a love match twirling around some stuffy ballroom? Or with some boy’s insufferable lady mother over tea while we speak of lace and ruffles and embroidering pillows?” She asked. “Not one of these fools have ever invited me for a hunt, or even a ride for that matter.”
Her father studied her over his teacup. “I see your point.”
“I shall accept any invitation from a suitor for a ride or a hunt,” she declared. “But don’t you go putting the idea into their heads. If a man doesn’t have the sense to come up with it on his own, he doesn’t have the sense to run Ryerson House.”
“You make a compelling argument as usual, my darling,” he sighed, pushing himself to his feet with a groan. He planted another kiss on her brow. “It shall be done. All invitations for dancing and tea shall be cast aside. We will abandon any notion that I may have raised a civilized, sociable young lady and and we’ll see only those suitors scandalous enough to suggest riding or hunting or brawling for that matter.”
Brawlingwas a fine idea. They would see what these knights and lordlings were made of then. Enya grinned at the suggestion. “I knew you would see it my way, Father.”
