He snickered. “Old Snowflake is pushing twenty, Miss Trim. If he erupts, it will be into a mind-numbingly speedy stroll.”
“That’s scary enough.”
“Courage. If you can face down a cranky marquess, this old pony is a doddle.” He patted Snowflake, who looked half asleep—so much for Miss Trim’s worries—and took the halter. “Are you ready?”
“No.”
“You can’t sit in the stable yard all morning.”
“It’s my first lesson.”
“So start learning.” Clicking his tongue to the somnolent horse, he moved forward.
“Oh, dear.”
He glanced back. Miss Trim clutched the front of the saddle as though about to topple off. She looked utterly terrified.
“Deep breath.”
“I think you should stop.”
“I think you should let yourself fall into the rhythm of the horse.”
“Please don’t say ‘fall.’ ”
He laughed again. Good God, at this rate, he’d be the life of the party once he got back to London. “Someone as graceful as you should have no trouble riding. Listen to your body.”
Damn it, if she didn’t want to hear “fall,” he didn’t want to hear “body.” Teaching Miss Trim to ride was a risky enterprise. If only for her instructor.
Slowly he walked around the yard without looking back. He needed to get himself under control before he chanced another glimpse. When he finally did, he was pleased to see her sitting more naturally. “That’s better.”
“I still feel like I’m about to end up on the cobbles,” she admitted, although she didn’t look nearly so frozen.
“You’d have to jump. Snowflake’s back is broader than most chairs.”
“A horse armchair?”
He smiled, charmed, and wishing to Hades that he wasn’t. “Precisely.”
He led Snowflake around the yard again, then stood back to let Eleanor try on her own. As he’d expected, she quickly adapted to the horse’s gait. A quick learner, Miss Trim. He knew that from working with her.
Inevitably, the idea of her being a quick learner here inclined his thoughts toward another kind of riding. With her mounted upon the Marquess of Leath rather than a fat, phlegmatic pony who hadn’t accelerated past a trot in ten years. The sensual daydream of watching her undulate over his body occupied him to a point where he stopped watching.
“My lord?” She and Snowflake halted a few feet away.
“How was that?”
“I’m getting used to it.”
“You’ll come to like it.”
“Perhaps.” Although he was pleased to see her lean to pat Snowflake’s white neck.
“Go around the yard again, if you please.”
He smiled at her growing confidence. As for her riding something other than a horse? The wicked idea arose that where there was a will, there was a way. Surely one could avoid scandal, if one was careful. Perhaps he was too punctilious about protecting Miss Trim’s virtue.
After all, she had a perfect right to say no to any offer.