I was not sure if I should feign ignorance. I could hardly acknowledge the sentiment without insulting his cousins, which I did not wish to do. As I have mentioned, I do not dislike the Brougham sisters, even if I found them a bit ridiculous that afternoon.

“Tell me you can ride,” he said.

“Of course.”

He motioned to the house. “None of them can.”

“That’s not true,” I replied, puzzled. I knew I had seen them on horseback at some point.

“They can sit in a saddle,” he said, his eyes flashing with what could only be a dare, “but they cannot ride.”

“I see,” I murmured. I considered my options and said, “I can.”

He looked at me, one corner of his mouth tilted up. His eyes were a rather nice shade of green, mossy with little brown flecks. And again, I got that odd sense of being in accord.

I hope I am not being immodest when I say that there are a few things I do quite well. I can shoot with a pistol (although not with a rifle, and not as well as my mother, who is freakishly good). I can add up sums twice as quickly as Oliver, provided I have pen and paper. I can fish, and I can swim, and above all, I can ride.

“Come with me,” I said, motioning toward the stables.

He did, falling into step beside me. “Tell me, Miss Crane,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, “with what were you bribed for your presence this afternoon?”

“You think your company was not enough reward?”

“You did not know me,” he pointed out.

“True.” We turned onto the path toward the stables, and I was happy to feel that the breeze was picking up. “As it happens, I was outmaneuvered by my mother.”

“You admit to being outmaneuvered,” he murmured. “Interesting.”

“You don’t know my mother.”

“No,” he assured me, “I am impressed. Most people would not confess to it.”

“As I said, you don’t know my mother.” I turned to him and smiled. “She is one of eight siblings. Besting her in any sort of devious matter is nothing short of a triumph.”