Making the final adjustment to his cravat, he shrugged on his jacket. As usual, St. Albans rode up just as John reached the pavement. “Good morning.” He swung onto his horse. “Are you looking forward to breakfast as much as I am?”

“Good morning.” St. Albans inclined his head. “At least as much. I have decided Lady Alice is the right lady to be my wife.”

“That narrows down your hunt.” John did wonder what the lady would think about that. If her expression at supper last evening was anything to judge by, she might not be happy about the prospect. But it wasn’t Eleanor’s happiness at stake. Ergo, it was no bread and butter of his. At least not yet. It suddenly dawned on him that he seemed to have a protective streak when it came to Eleanor. Would that extend to the other members of her family? It certainly seemed that it did for her brothers-in-law. He hadn’t realized it until he was getting ready for bed last night, but all of them had kept an eye on all three sisters. It was conceivable it would happen to him as well.

John had just turned the corner onto Park Lane as Eleanor and her sisters were riding toward the gate and him. She looked glorious. The small, feathered hat she wore allowed her golden hair to reflect the early morning sun. And her Pomona green habit was different from the ones he’d seen lately. Instead of a short jacket, she wore one that hugged her form to her waist, causing him to remember how she felt when he’d waltzed with her last evening.

He urged his horse to her side. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Her smile made something inside him warm. “Are you ready for a good gallop?”

“Both Aramus and I are.” As John spoke, the horse snorted.

Eleanor’s laugh was like a light tinkling of chimes. “In that case, we’ll go to the large willow by the Serpentine.”

“On the count of three.” The second he said “three,” she was off. Eleanor and her mare moved as one being, but he was ready for her. It wasn’t long before he had drawn even with her. It occurred to him that if he did marry Eleanor, he might spend the rest of his life trying to keep up with her. John gave himself a shake. That was probably only on horseback. In every other way she was a typical young lady.

She reined in her horse. “You caught up quickly.”

“It did not take me long to realize that you waste no time starting. What is your mare’s name?”

“Adela.” Eleanor motioned to his gelding. “You said your horse’s name is Aramus?”

John patted the gelding’s neck. “Yes.”

“I like it.” Her gaze moved over his horse. “Aramus is a much better name than Brutus or some of the others I have heard.”