True to his word, it only takes Theron a few moments to saddle up. He helps me onto Temperance before swinging his large, muscular body up onto the stallion. Then just like Judge, he clicks his tongue, and we’re off.

We head out into the open field at an easy gait, and I’m surprised at how well Theron handles Kentucky Lightning, though I don’t know why. I suppose he often rode, too, growing up.

We fall into an effortless conversation, and I find myself answering his questions about my interests and hobbies without being guarded. He seems to take an eager interest in me, but I’m not naïve enough to believe it’s not just for sport. I think Theron very much enjoys my attention and company, knowing how much it will displease Judge. On that, we are both of the same mind.

“What brought you back here?” I ask him as we return to the stables. “You must have been gone for quite some time. I haven’t seen you at any IVI functions since I’ve been of age to attend.”

His back stiffens ever so slightly at my question, and I want to know why. But just like Judge, he chooses to remain vague.

“I thought it was time,” he says. “I want to settle down. Find a beautiful wife. Get married.”

He’s eyeing me as if I’m a possibility for that role, and I can’t help but think he’s really laying it on thick. Regardless, I appreciate the distraction, and I’ll be glad to use his attentions to my benefit when I flaunt them in front of Judge.

“Well, you shouldn’t have a problem with that.” I dismount Temperance and stretch out my back. “I’m sure every eligible Society daughter will be lining up to offer their hands to you once they hear the news.”

“Perhaps.” He dismounts and helps me remove the saddle from Temperance. “But I don’t want just any eligible Society woman. I want the best.”

His fingers brush against mine as he says it, and I know it’s not an accident. When I turn to look up at him, he’s closer than I’d expect, the heat of his chest brushing against my arm. He is, admittedly, very handsome. And I suspect he’s also very much used to getting his way.

For a moment, when I look into his eyes, I wish I could fall for it. But there’s one glaring problem. He doesn’t smell like warm spices and leather. He doesn’t make my heart beat harder when he looks at me. He doesn’t make me so goddamned angry I could scream. In a nutshell, he isn’t Judge.

“Come to dinner tonight.” He reaches down and brushes a strand of hair off my cheek.

“What?”

“Dinner,” he repeats. “Didn’t Judge tell you? We’re all having dinner together this evening.”