The Lord and his Lady (Forbidden #2)

Chapter Twenty Three

Richard would be nothing but a disappointment, yet again. Perhaps he already was in his mind, nothing that could be solved.

"Who is this strange woman allowed into our quarters?" his voice had shifted from warm to cold in an instant. Icy blue eyes glowered down at the tall woman resting against the wall, attempting to blend into shadows.

"I am Miss Price, Your Grace," she said, hurrying out to come into view. She fell back into a deep curtsey. Richard observed her shaky hand being tightly squeezed by the other in front of her. "I am Her Grace's lady-in-waiting."

"I don't recall hiring a lady-in-waiting."

"I hired her on your behalf," said Richard. All heads turned his way. Icy blue met warm bluebells. "You were seeking a companion for mother and after you met with the accident, Miss Price proved to be the perfect choice."

"She's amazing," added mother, smiling over her shoulder at the young woman who watched with a tentative gaze. "She's helped me through moments when I needed her the most, Alastair."

His father only hummed, scrutinising the woman for a long while until she began to shift. "Very well," he said with a resigned sigh, expression scrunched with resolute pain. "If she is no burden to you then I shall allow it to continue."

There was a heaviness weighing in the central part of Richard's body that he could not lift, his facial muscles twitching. Without bidding a goodbye, he left the room and met with Devonport who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

Worry laced his usual calm demeanour as he asked, "Is your father—?"

"Yes, he's well. The usual, one would say."

"You sound almost saddened by it."

Was he? Did that make him a horrible son? Of course it did, he thought. He didn't want his father to be bed ridden again, but he didn't want their relationship to be going forward in the state of sourness it had. A part of him falsely hoped he would wake up a new man.

"Only finely disappointed that he did not give a wit about my presence," he mumbled for his own ears.

"Caldwell—"

"I'm taking Thunder for a ride alone. Best you mosey off or your aunt and uncle are going to be as mad as a march hare."

Not giving his friend the opportune to speak, Richard let his boots take him out to the field and to the barn. Thunder whinnied softly upon seeing him approach. Richard waved away the servants tending to Thunder's mane and checked the condition of his mount before untying him and leading him out.

He placed a quick kiss on his muzzle before coming to his side and swiftly swinging his leg over. He heard soft footsteps behind, but ignoring it, clicked his tongue, pushing the horse into action.

They barrelled forward together, the clapping of Thunder's hooves against the ground echoing. The wind and rain slapping through his golden locks had never felt so cold, doing none but strengthening the ice around his heart.

He and his father had been so close once upon a time. Now everything he did seemed to be an issue.

They galloped through the curved branches hiding the alcove they had been meeting at for years. It led to an open field surrounded by tall bushes, tweeting birds and chirping insects, the faint rush of water hitting rocks in the vast pond.

Weston swung his leg over his horse and jumped down. He let out a loud whoop. "Finally, away from the suffocation of my younger sister and mother constantly at her beck and call."

"Of course your mother must be at her beck and call. She's a mere babe," said the voice of reason, Devonport. The rest of them climbed off their horses.