“Finn, hitch up the phaeton. I have a call to make."

His groom had come around to the front of the estate when Lucius was speaking with the men, and he now hurried off to do his master’s bidding. Lucius went up to put on more layers as the air was even colder today without the falling snow.

He drove in silence, appreciating the road that wound through the bit of woods, then across the meadow. He could still see his tracks in the snow from the night before. It was nearly silent apart from the horses’ hooves and the creak of the phaeton as the wheels went over the frozen ruts. The brisk air that bit at him through his cloak was invigorating.

Lucius wondered when he had lost that sense of enchantment that came from the outdoors—from friendship, family, and the little pleasures life afforded. It seemed that ever since he had inherited the title eight years ago, his life had become more about all the things he must do, and therefore there was always this vague undercurrent of wishing to escape. He rode by an evergreen with red berries set cheerfully against the white snowy backdrop, and as he passed it, the large branch overhead spilled a mound of snow on one of the horses’ backs, causing both horses to speed up as the wind powdered Lucius’s face with the flakes. A quiet chuckle escaped him as he wiped the snow off his face with his free hand.

He was just coming up the road leading to Harrowden Estate when he spotted two figures walking along the path that led from its gardens. The couple was quite far from the house, which was odd. With the frigid air, it was not a day for pleasure walking.

It was the red coat belonging to Miss Lockhart that next caught his attention. What gentleman could have been so improvident as to suggest a walk when it was this cold? As he drew near, he saw it was indeed Miss Lockhart, accompanied by the new earl, whom Lucius knew only by face and name. Harrowden was younger than he by a good six years, and therefore, they had no friends in common.

Lucius pulled up to the pair and found Miss Lockhart nearly blue with cold. "Good morning, Harrowden. Miss Lockhart,” he said, catching her gaze. “Your trunk was delivered to my doorstep, and I came to bring it to you."

"You are very kind, sir."

Miss Lockhart’s smile was frozen, and Lucius wondered if it was simply the cold, or if there was something more sinister behind it, like fear. Why is she here? He responded to an instinct that told him Miss Lockhart needed help, even if it was just to get her quickly to warmth.

“Harrowden, I am sure you will not mind if I take Miss Lockhart up in the carriage so that she may see to her trunk."

A look of annoyance passed over Harrowden's features, but he gave a short bow. “Yes, of course. You must certainly do so. Miss Lockhart, we can finish our tour at another time as we have not yet visited the orchards.”