her to London. The whole summer would be wasted on tea parties and stuffy balls, boring people, endless empty conversations.
She had refused to go at first, but her father had insisted. “You’ll go,” he had growled at her. “Your stepmother has gone to a lot of trouble, acquiring a letter of introduction, finding a place for you, all that sort of thing. You’ll see all the sights.”
“I don’t want to see the sights,” she protested. “And Black Satin—”
“Behave yourself,” he said darkly, “and Black Satin will still be here when you return.”
It was a clear threat. She could lose Bits. Robbie could lose his job. She would go to London as ordered.
It hardly seemed fair, her father suddenly remembering her existence. It was Frances’s doing, of course. For some reason Frances wanted to go to England, and she wanted Annis to go along, which was odd. It wasn’t as if they enjoyed each other’s company.
Bits snorted water, spattering her habit, interrupting her thoughts. Annis brought herself back to the beauties of the crystal morning. “I know, Bitsy. You want to run, but not yet.”
She shook the water droplets from her skirt. Bits stamped, eager to be off for their canter. She stroked his neck, which had grown hot in the sun, and combed his silky forelock with her fingers. “Sorry, Bits. Walking only, until we’re sure that tendon is healed.” Which meant, sadly, that they wouldn’t have their run until she returned from England.
She urged Bits closer to the basin so she could remount. She was just about to swing her leg over the saddle when someone spoke from the trees beyond the curve of the concourse. “Lovely morning for a ride.”
It was a woman’s voice, low in pitch, unusually resonant. Curious, a little embarrassed at having been overheard speaking to her horse as if he were a person, Annis bent her knees so she could peek under Bits’s neck.
A tall, lean woman emerged from the copse. She wore a day dress every bit as worn as Annis’s riding habit. She carried an ancient straw hat, and her uncovered dark hair was threaded with silver, like star streaks in a night sky. A basket full of greenery hung over her arm. She stepped out from beneath a canopy of cherry blossoms, and they sifted past her shoulders as if someone were showering her with flowers.
The woman walked through the drift of blossoms with a grace that belied the silver in her hair. Annis found something elegant about her, though Frances would have sniffed at the stranger’s shabby clothes.
Intrigued, Annis loosened her grip on Bits’s reins and inched along the rim of the basin to show herself. “Good morning, ma’am. I thought I was alone up here.”
“Do you need help getting into the saddle?” the woman asked. Her voice carried easily through the percussive rustle of leaves, as musical as the birdsong filling the park.
Annis said, “No, thank you. I always stand on the edge of the fountain.” She jumped down so as not to seem rude, and because there was something about this woman that made her want to meet her. To hear what she might say.
“Ah. How practical.” The woman walked closer. “It seems your steed is cooperative.”
“Oh, he is. He’s the finest horse in New York City.”
The woman’s lips curved. “He must certainly be the most fortunate.”
“I hope so,” Annis said. “I do my best for him.”
“Well, then. You are both fortunate. And what is your horse called?”
“Bits. That is, his proper name is Black Satin. I’m starting a bloodline with him.”
The woman tilted her head to one side, and her fine gray eyes sparkled with interest. “Are you indeed? That’s most interesting. A worthy ambition, I would say.”
Annis grinned. “Thank you. Most people are shocked that I would be involved with such an activity—breeding horses, I mean. Everyone says it’s unladylike.”
“I suppose it is. But being ladylike is so tedious, don’t you find?”
Annis laughed. “Oh, I do! Decidedly.”
“And what do your parents think of your endeavor?”
Annis shrugged. “My stepmother thinks the whole thing is vulgar. My father says I’m a horse-mad girl and I’ll grow out of it, but I won’t. I’m young, but I know what I’m doing. Bits throws wonderful foals when he has the right mares. Everyone will clamor for one of them.”
“Your enthusiasm makes me wish I were a horsewoman.”
Annis said, “I do love horses. I love riding, too.”