The only one

There had to be someone who would appreciate her intelligence. Amelia Weatherby, the second daughter of the Earl of Penwood, was a lot more than just a beautiful face. But people hardly noticed. Young females of marriageable age were not supposed to be intelligent, only pretty. The society not only admired but also desired that.

Amelia often got stern lectures on the proper deportment of young ladies from her mother, who did not appreciate her public displays of having a sharp brain.

“Keep all that theory of Mathematics confined to the books of accounts, will you?” her mother would scold. “Unmarried dukes and earls wouldn’t have any interest in your investment skills, I’m sure.”

“But wouldn’t they like if their future wife had a good understanding of the topic?” Amelia would query with an edge of irritation to her voice. She had been managing the bills and investments for a few years now, and her father’s wealth had undoubtedly increased manifold; an accomplishment for which her father was immensely thankful.

“Only the men who are in trade talk about numbers and statistics,” Lady Penwood explained.

Amelia almost rolled her eyes, but stopped in time. Expressing emotions other than bland admiration and fake wonder was considered impolite by the polite society. And her mother was hell bent on making her a proper lady suited to the society. She was aiming for someone from the nobility for her second girl; even the second son would do. Her elder daughter had taken significant efforts during her season but only managed to capture a viscount.

Lady Penwood doubted her second daughter would be as lucky.

Luck was something Amelia hated. She was constantly emphasized how lucky she was to be the daughter of an earl, albeit second. If for nothing else, someone might consider marrying her for her impeccable bloodlines and considerable dowry.

She needed to change that luck. Not that she did not feel blessed. Being the offspring of an aristocrat certainly had its advantages. But she craved to be seen beyond that. For exactly who she was. The skills she had garnered over the years. Most of which were neglected or not deemed necessary.

She wanted someone to consider her suitable as a wife because of the practical education she had. She was not expecting love. That would be too much, of course. But she deserved some respect other than just being a vessel for bearing children. She deserved appreciation for her understanding and expertise in things that mattered for life.

The knowledge and usage of medicinal plants, for example. She had fallen uncountable times from trees during her childhood. It would have been easier if she knew just which leaves to use for making a paste to apply. So she had badgered the eldest cook for almost a week until she had noted down all the remedies that could be administered as the primary aid before sending for the physician.

Lady Penwood had an expression of revulsion when she looked at her daughter’s fingers smudged with mud. She had promptly gone in search of her father muttering proper decorum and unladylike behaviour under her breath. But Amelia had thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

There were a number of things Amelia loved to do that were forbidden by the society. Riding astride was one of them. She had always disliked sitting sidesaddle. She always rode astride without gloves and bonnet, her hair flying without the confines of ribbons, her mare talking with the early morning wind going deep in the forest. A trait her mother always detested. But Amelia was beyond listening. She would not give up the joy for anything. That was the only time she felt free without having to submit to the atrocious rules of the society.

She always went riding when they stayed in the country. Today was no different. The morning crisp air felt wonderful on her skin. She had left behind her gloves and bonnet. Her curls had freed themselves. Normally she wouldn’t leave her room by disregarding the rules of propriety, but the place she was heading to was bereft of society matrons and people with a stickler for modesty.

Her mare took her through the dense trees and into a small clearing. The pond of clear water was a welcome sight. She decided to spend some time there. She sat on a rock and let her mare enjoy the cool water. Probably the horses, too, just like her, were trying desperately to change their luck.

Just as she had singled out this mare for her presence of mind over other beautiful ones presented before her, she wished she too would be accepted.

She sat there mulling over her life when she heard the clip-clop sound of a horse trotting nearby. Straining her ears, she assessed the direction from where the sound came and braced herself. Who might be here at this early time? Usually she would be alone. The sound grew closer and then from the trees appeared a black gelding. It also had a man seated atop. A very handsome man, to be sure. But the first thing she noticed was the gelding. It looked of good breeding. She could certainly use one of these.

As if suddenly realizing another person’s presence, her gaze travelled upwards. The man riding the horse looked of good breeding, just like the gelding. Not, she thought wryly, that he would appreciate being compared to a horse. But really, it should be a sin to be so devilishly handsome. Strong thighs that stretched the leather of breeches, broad fingers gripping the reins, broad shoulders, dark shiny hair ruffled by wind, high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes that were fixed upon her intently.

Why was he staring at her? Probably waiting for her to say something. His calm and poise told her he must belong to the aristocratic family. A powerful one at that. So she smiled and curtsied.

“Good morning, sir”

He bowed. “Good morning, miss.”

And nothing. He just kept staring at her. What was she supposed to say next? Oh Lord, she was never good and exchanging pleasantries.

He smiled, a grin that almost made her knees buckle. Getting down from the horse, he walked to stand in front of her.

“It seems, like me, you too hate bland pleasantries.”

Could he read her mind? Was she so transparent? “Er…”

“You don’t have to look so serious. I’m not being judgmental. Do you come here every morning?”

Yes, she almost said, but stopped in time. Why did he want to know? So that he could follow her? “At times,” she said instead.

And then they both just stood there looking at each other, unable to decide what to talk about.

“Now that we’ve established that we both hate pleasantries, is there anything in particular you would like to talk about?” he asked.

“Your horse seems to be of good breeding.” She blurted out before she could stop her traitorous tongue.

He looked faintly amused at her statement, so she improvised. “I meant—“

“Yes, I bought him at an auction few years ago. Quite expensive.”

“Oh. And if I may ask, when will this auction be conducted again. I would like to attend one.”

“I do not know any female of my acquaintance who would be interested in such an endeavour.”

“Most people consider me abnormal.” She felt warmth creeping up her neck.

“I wouldn’t say abnormal… ingenious perhaps, but not abnormal.” he tried to put her at ease.

She snorted. “Ingenious. That’s a new.”

“Are you telling me, no one has ever complimented you on your intelligence?”

“And pray tell, why do you think I’m intelligent?”

“You assessed my grey in under five minutes. That says a lot.”

She stared at him. This was the first man who had complimented her. Usually her comments about horses were met with derision. Ladies were not meant to discuss horses, let alone their breeding. That was a topic specifically reserved for the male of the species.

“You look surprised,” he declared when she kept staring at him.

“I am.” she finally found her voice. “Ladies, as you so gently put it, should not be talking about such things. Yet you—“

“My dear, Miss,” he broke her. “What I am trying to say is, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. And I wish to take it further, if you agree, of course.”

“Further?”

“To friendship”

“Friendship? Why?”

He grinned. “I have a suspicion you never do anything without asking why, do you?”

She looked down, embarrassed. It was true. She always wanted to know the reason behind everything. Her mother had been mad and called it unnecessary curiosity. But this man here actually lauded her.

“I suppose, one would like to have friends,” he stated, breaking her reverie. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, but don’t you have friends already?”

“Friends are never enough. I would prefer to have you by my side, the next time I go for buying a horse.”

“You would take me with you?”

“If you would like to accompany me. It would be helpful to have your opinion.”

Was she dreaming? Here was a man who not only understood her qualities, but also seemed to value her opinion.

“Would you?” he asked again, “be my friend.”

“I’d be delighted to.” She beamed.

He took her hand and gallantly kissed it. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

She was not wrong, after all. There was indeed someone who appreciated her.