The Muse Read Free Page A

he had an epiphany realizing events had been put into motion through fate that reached far beyond his control.  It was not what he had expected to find here, but he would no more be able to turn away from Imogene Byron-Cole than he could stop time.  His head began to ache, his heart, however, was coming alive.
    Once at the stables the familiar smells and sounds soothed him a little.  Graham selected a spirited looking grey and ordered it saddled.  While he waited, he spotted her horse alone in a stall.  Terra is her name, Mr. Hargreave.   He spoke to the horse by name, and stroked her neck before bending down to examine her right foreleg carefully.  She didn’t appear to be favouring it now, which was a good sign.  Terra was a fine piece of horseflesh and it would be a shame for such an animal to be damaged…or for her rider to be hurt because of it.
    The groom spoke, “That one is not of the estate sir, and she came up lame today.”
    “Yes, I saw the lady lead her in.  Is she recovered?”
    “Yes, sir.  She had somethin’ like a rock hurtin’ her.  Mr. Jacks had the horseman see her.  She’ll be good as new for her lady.”
    “Do you know of the lamb that the lady brought in this morning?  What of it?”
    “Here, sir.  I’m feedin’ it cow’s milk with a bottle ’til the shepherd can be found.  Takin’ to it just fine.”
    Graham peered into the corner of the stall, and there it was covered with an old horse blanket.  The lamb lifted its head to look at him, blinking big round soulful eyes.  He thought about the lamb being held in her arms during the long walk back, pressed against her body, cradled in the warmth of her breasts.  He was bloody jealous of that lamb.
    The groom’s voice broke through his ponderings. “Yer horse is ready for ya, sir.”
    Graham rode the grey hard across the fields, trying to clear his mind and think of peaceful things.  But peace eluded him.  The vision of her with her dark golden hair, and those poignant brown eyes was stuck firmly in his head—going nowhere.
    I have exposed my attraction to her now.  What if she doesn’t like me?  They’ll all be watching me with her tonight.  Christ Almighty.

TWO

     
    A dance is a measured pace, as a verse is a measured speech.
     
    Francis Bacon   ~The Advancement of Learning, 1605
     
     
     
     
    RACING away from Kenilbrooke on Triton’s steady back, feeling both embarrassed and horrified, she wished she could ride right off the face of the earth.  Her intrusion upon Mr. Hargreave, and as he was receiving guests, too, was not an experience she cared to repeat. Imogene was on friendly terms with Mr. Jacks, and had expected to deal with him today, but how wrong she had been.
    She thought about what had just occurred.  Mr. Hargreave standing to talk to her with a visitor looking on had been agonizing.  They must have thought her addled in the head, wandering across fields with helpless animals.   She’d prayed for escape.  Forced to remember her manners, she’d tried to show a sincere interest in the ball tonight, but quite frankly, didn’t know if she was up for it.  This ball was the first formal occasion since putting the black aside.  Was she even ready for this?  And who was the tall man standing upon the steps?  His intense staring had made her feel she was wearing no more than her shift.  That couldn’t be proper, now could it?  Imogene shook her head to try to clear it a little.  Whoever he was, he must be here for the wedding of Mina and Mr. Everley.  Maybe even someone with family connections.  As much as she’d like to avoid the idea of an attraction, the stranger had been darkly handsome and mysterious.
    After handing Triton over to a groom at the stables, she walked the path to her home.  But it wasn’t really her home, was it?  She was a visitor here.  Even though she knew they loved her, her life was not the same, and never would be again.  The contrast between Wilton