The parties exchanged mounted bows. The younger Theodore Wandrell looked about her age, Jean thought, his sister a bit younger. The latter was eyeing her, maneuvering her horse closer. “You’re staying at Furness Hall?” she said when she was nearer.

“Yes.”

“How funny. We’ve heard that no one visits there anymore.” Miss Wandrell’s gaze was sharp, running over Jean’s antiquated dress and tricorn hat. Her hair was straining at its bounds, Jean thought, eager to spring out and embarrass her; an escaped curl twining down her temple. “You’re here with your mother?” Miss Wandrell added.

Jean suppressed a start. What had her mother to do with it? “My mother? No, she’s dead.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” Her interrogator sounded more inquisitive than regretful. She awaited further information. Jean gave her none. Rather, she turned to the gentlemen.

“Yes, Geoffrey is trying out his new pony,” Lord Macklin was saying.

“Got away from him, did it?” replied the elder Mr. Wandrell. His tone was patronizing. “Best to keep youngsters inside fences at his age, I always found.”

“Geoffrey was doing splendidly,” said Lord Furness.

“He nearly barreled into us,” replied his neighbor.

“And yet, he did not.”

“Are we going on soon?” Geoffrey asked.

The adults looked down from their taller mounts. Geoffrey should have seemed dwarfed in their midst, Benjamin thought. But somehow he didn’t. The Wandrells clearly didn’t approve of his complaint, however.

“Come over here,” said Tom, putting a hand on Fergus’s bridle. They moved to the edge of the trees. Tom set Geoffrey practicing his mounted turns.

“Mama will besoglad to know you’re receiving visitors again,” said Anna Wandrell in a caressing tone. She spoke to Benjamin, but she had her eyes on Miss Saunders.

All of the Wandrells awaited Benjamin’s answer, another sign of the speculation his long period of mourning had roused in the neighborhood. A flood of intrusions loomed. “Not really,” he said. “Family only.”

This made Miss Wandrell frown. Questions showed in her expression.

“We should move along,” Benjamin added, signaling his horse with his knees. He bowed from the saddle and smiled as if all was well. He also got away as quickly as possible, turning back toward home. His party followed along, while the neighbors sat still, watching them ride away.

Alice hadn’t particularly liked the Wandrell family, Benjamin remembered. She’d remarked on Mrs. Wandrell’s malicious tongue and more than once said that Anna bid fair to be just like her mother. He had no doubt that they’d make inquiries about Miss Saunders and soon discover that their relationship was vanishingly distant—no excuse to dispense with chaperones. The isolation he’d thrown over his household was broken.

The Wandrells habitually went up to London for the season, where they could question many more people and spread whatever story they concocted even farther. And tongues would wag more furiously because he’d made himself such an object of curiosity. Benjamin felt a flash of rage. They had no right to target Miss Saunders.

Her voice drifted into his thoughts. “No, I never had a pony when I was small.”

Benjamin turned to look. His houseguest and his son rode in tandem on his right.

“How did you learn to ride?” said Geoffrey. “You do very well,” he added with the air of a connoisseur.

“Thank you,” said Miss Saunders gravely. “Our head groom taught me, on a barrel.”

Geoffrey gazed up at her, his interest definitely caught. “A barrel?”

Her head was far above his son’s, but her tone wasn’t the least patronizing, Benjamin thought. Nothing like Wandrell’s condescension.

“We didn’t have many horses,” she answered. “None I was allowed to use. But Matthew thought I should know how to ride. So when I was a little older than you, he fastened a small cask to a rail fence, with reins tied to the post. He showed me how to sit and hang on.”

Benjamin was touched by the picture this presented. The implications were more concerning. Why hadn’t she been allowed to use the horses?

“That’s smart,” commented Geoffrey. “Were you very poor?”

Miss Saunders looked nonplussed.

“Tom said he had no horses when he was young because he was poor.”