The Enchantment of Lady Ice

XXII. Chaperones

"I accept the challenge," he said, smile still in place.

"Then will you allow me to escort you back home?"

"In your carriage?"

"Yes."

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

She would suffer this newly found friendship.

But then, so would he.

*****

Harold could not help but think that he made a very drastic and stupid proposition.

To be confined in a small moving room with Alice was not very friendly at all. He was thinking of many things and all of them crossed the boundaries of friendship.

But he had to stand by his decision.

This was better, he told himself. He simply had to bloody start believing himself and think of her as his friend.

Clearing his throat, he turned away from the window to stare at her. She was already looking at him expectantly, a corner of her lips curved into a mysterious smile, as though she knew something he did not. Whatever it was, it surely made her quite happy.

"Is your mother not joining you at all this season?" he asked.

She shook her head. "She seems to enjoy Lady Vivian's company more these days."

He nodded. "It is good that she can enjoy."

"The mourning is over, after all."

"I am sorry I have not met your father. I am certain he was a great man."

"He was, actually," she said, lips curving into a bigger smile. She looked at him straight in the eyes. "He always encouraged me to do whatever I wanted at any given point."

"Like loving horses more than humans?"

She scoffed, probably her version of a laugh. "Not to a point. But yes, he hired the best instructors when I expressed my desire to learn to ride."

"And when did you start learning?"

"Four."

His eyes widened. "You cannot be serious."

"I am." She frowned. "I reckon you started late."

"I—I well," he shifted in his seat. "I started a little later than you."

"How late?"

Harold blinked. "One or two years," and then he mumbled, "a few."

"Ah, then you started very late."

Harold rolled his eyes. "I was fifteen."

This time she chuckled, perhaps her version of condescension. "No wonder you fell." Her lips quivered with humor.

"I would appreciate it if we do not mention how your horse threw me off its back."

"Of course, if it mends your pride."

Harold narrowed his eyes at her. "I may not be the best horse rider, my lady, but I am the best with swords. I picked up one when I was three."

"And have you improved since then?" she asked, brows raised both in humor and misgiving.

"You are not hurting my pride at all," he said with confidence, ignoring her mocking. "And I am as good with a pistol as I am with a sword."

She nodded, although her expression remained doubtful. "Very well, if you say so. I have no way to test your abilities as we speak, after all."