Pamela Sherwood by A Song at Twilight Page B

“Good morning to you, Miss Tresilian. You’re abroad early today.”
    “Well, it was so lovely when I awoke this morning that I simply had to take advantage.” Sophie paused, feeling just a little shy. Oh, they’d met several times since that New Year’s Eve party, for he and Harry had become good friends, but it had been a while since she had spoken to him without anyone else about. She couldn’t help but remember how congenial a companion he’d been that night, how easy to talk to, and wishing… But that was neither here nor there, she told herself hastily. Aloud she said, “You’re up quite early yourself, Mr. Pendarvis.”
    “Indeed. I’m trying to get into the habit of riding every day,” he explained. “It’s been years since my great-uncle rode, and the horses need the exercise. So do I, for that matter. I should soon become as fat as an alderman if I took a carriage everywhere.”
    Sophie stifled a giggle. It was hard to imagine anyone as lean and spare as Mr. Pendarvis putting on that much weight. “Do you often come this way?”
    “Well, I don’t know St. Perran well enough to say I ride here often, but this seemed a promising track.” He patted his horse’s neck. “At least Gorlois seems to like it.”
    Sophie smiled. “Never fear. If you ride out often enough, you’ll come to know the whole county like the back of your hand. We’ll make a proper Cornishman of you yet.”
    He smiled back, a softening of those severe lips that made him look quite a bit younger. “Your brother has promised something similar, so I am resigning myself to my fate.”
    She raised her brows. “Willingly, I trust?”
    “Willingly and happily, I assure you.” He patted his horse’s neck again, his expression growing serious once more. “Still, there’s much to think of, especially now that my life has changed so much these last few weeks.”
    “Of course.” A touch guiltily, Sophie noticed the black band encircling his upper arm. “We were all sorry to hear about your great-uncle,” she added quickly.
    The funeral had taken place in early April. A rather quiet affair, as most of Simon Pendarvis’s friends and contemporaries had predeceased him, but the Tresilians had attended. So had several other notable families in the county, if only to meet the new owner of Pendarvis Hall. Sophie had noticed several young ladies eyeing Mr. Pendarvis speculatively during the funeral service and at the reception that followed. Calculating little things… Sophie had experienced a secret twinge of relief when he’d showed no particular interest in any of them.
    “Thank you.” Mr. Pendarvis inclined his head. “Although I suspect death might have come as a release to him, in some respects. And at least it was a peaceful passing.”
    “What will you do now? Settle permanently in Cornwall or go back to London?”
    He did not reply at once. “I’ve been considering the former, but I still have a number of decisions to make—none of them easy. I thought a ride might clear my head.”
    “Have you tried riding down to the shore? It’s not far from here, and I go there sometimes when I need to think. Something about the wind and the water always helps to blow the cobwebs away. I was heading there now actually.” Sophie hesitated, wondering if he would think her bold for asking, but ventured all the same, “Would you care to accompany me?”
    “Thank you, Miss Tresilian,” he replied after a moment. “I should like that very much.”
    Sophie smiled. “Right this way, then,” she said, and kneed Tregony forward, as Mr. Pendarvis and Gorlois fell into step beside them.
    ***
    Riding at a brisk trot, they soon neared their destination. Mr. Pendarvis kept pace without any sort of problem, Sophie observed with approval. His position in the saddle was good, his back straight without being stiff as a poker, and his hands were light on the reins. Gorlois appeared to respect his mastery too, perhaps the ultimate testament