Dalton’s Challenge by Penny Fairbanks

Chapter 8

Pleasant afternoon sunlight filtered through the large window, bathing the drawing room in beautiful shades of gold. The scene almost looked like a painting, worthy of a place of honor in the finest art gallery in London.

Or perhaps Dalton just felt sentimental because it was his family’s drawing room, his family bringing this image to life with their smiles and happy conversations. He sank back into his plush armchair, finally feeling a bit like his old self. A few days had passed since the festival. Many people throughout the county had already written to thank him for putting on such an excellent event. With all that behind him, Dalton finally felt able to appreciate what he had done, to be proud of his accomplishments.

Still, it had taken him a few days to recover from the weeks of madness and planning that had led up to the festival. Today, with his family gathered all around him in the drawing room—including their newest member, little Sandy—enjoying a relaxing afternoon of quiet activities and chatting, Dalton felt almost ready to jump back into his usually active life.

“I daresay the Drew family will soon be sending out invitations for their annual summer ball,” Mama explained to Mr. and Mrs. Thirley, the lady seated beside Mama on the couch while the gentleman occupied a chair nearby. “It is always such fun,” Mama continued.

“Goodness, do you not think we have had enough fun for one summer?” Papa groaned, lovingly squeezing Mama’s hand from his spot on the couch.

“Tsk, there is no such thing,” Mama playfully chided.

“There is certainly more fun to be had here in Somerset than in Wiltshire,” Mrs. Thirley offered with a confident nod.

Mr. Thirley sighed, sending an understanding glance to Papa. “Thank goodness for card rooms.”

“Too right you are, my good man,” the baron chuckled.

Dalton smiled behind his newspaper, knowing that his father would still dance as many dances as Mama wanted. He might act like he preferred the card room, yet Dalton knew that Papa loved dancing with his wife just as much as when they had been a young courting couple. He greatly admired his parents’ relationship. He could not deny that he wanted a love like that someday.

“Surely you cannot be thinking about missing the Drews’ ball,” Caroline whined from her seat across the room near the window. Such an act was so unfathomable to the young lady who always longed for more excitement, more glamour.

Dalton glanced over to his younger sister, but his eyes first fell upon Winnie. She sat beside Caroline, her lips pressed together as she tried to stifle a giggle. Her dark green eyes danced under the sun's soft rays. Ever since the festival, she looked more lively and cheerful than Dalton had ever seen.

The air between them had changed, yet he could not quite tell how much or in precisely what way. His heart flipped as he watched her. He knew that should be answer enough, even as he brushed the thought aside. It was perfectly acceptable to be happy about developing a friendship with someone without developing anything more.

“Oh, goodness,” Winnie mumbled, looking down at the embroidery hoop in Caroline’s hands, abandoned in her haste to let Papa know her thoughts on this important subject.

Caroline looked as well. “Drat!” she cried, noticing that something had gone wrong with her project, earning her a sharp scolding from Mama for her exclamation.

“Do not worry,” Winnie said as she carefully set aside her own embroidery hoop on the nearby table. “Let me see if I can fix it.”

With a disappointed sigh, Caroline handed her project over to the other woman. Both Caroline and Dalton watched as Winnie worked away, biting her bottom lip in concentration. Dalton had noticed that habit of hers. He found it to be exceedingly charming considering how much effort she put into being so perfect all the time. She must not have realized that she did it. Dalton hoped that she never would.

“Thank you, Miss Thirley. You are a miracle worker,” Caroline cheered as Winnie passed the embroidery hoop back to her. “But I must confess that I am too frustrated now to continue this project. I think I shall play on the pianoforte for a while.”

Winnie nodded understandingly as Caroline stood up, daintily smoothing out her skirts. Dalton continued to watch as Winnie glanced around the room, his newspaper quite forgotten. He would much rather look at Winnie than boring black words printed on a white page.

Her eyes landed on her younger brother, peering over Patrick’s shoulder as he flipped the pages of a book, no doubt immersed in the fictional world before him. Young Master Thirley had grown quite fond of Patrick of late, often retreating to the older boy's quiet side when he needed a reprieve from Harriet.

She silently crossed the room, standing before the two young men, quite unnoticed. “What are you reading today, Mr. Patrick?”

Patrick looked up at Winnie with a friendly smile. “We have just started Othello.”

“Excellent choice,” Winnie said, nodding her approval. “It is one of my favorite plays to see performed.”

“It is mine as well.” Patrick nearly beamed, always happy to have someone who shared his interest in drama. Of course, all the Hardcourts enjoy the theater, but they knew that once Patrick got started on the subject, they would never be able to stop him.

“Can I see it?” Master Thirley asked, looking from Patrick to his older sister as if they belonged to some club that he wanted to join. “I think the story is really interesting.”

“Perhaps when you are a bit older,” Winnie promised, smiling softly at the boy.

Though Dalton had once thought her heartless, he had known in an instant that she loved her brother more than anything in this world. Then he had thought that perhaps Master Thirley was the only thing Winnie loved. Now, Dalton felt a tiny stirring of hope somewhere deep in his chest that Winnie could love something—someone—else.

Dalton snapped his newspaper shut, nearly leaping to his feet in his desperation to escape those thoughts. He strode across the room toward the large window overlooking a wide expanse of grass before rising up into hills in the distance. He stared out at the land that had been in his family for generations, that would one day be his. Try as he might, he could not completely tune out the sound of Winnie’s voice—and all the strange feelings it stirred inside him—as she discussed Othello with Patrick.

“Can we go out to the paddocks?” A light, dreamy voice appeared by Dalton’s side. He looked down to see Harriet standing next to him, their new puppy at her feet, gazing out at the open field longingly.

“That sounds like a lovely idea. I would be happy to join if you would allow me,” said that voice that Dalton had just been trying to escape. On his other side stood Winnie, an expectant smile on her face. “But only after we fix this ribbon in your hair.”

Harriet grinned at the woman, bouncing over to her eagerly. She turned around, her back facing Winnie. The older woman leaned forward slightly, though not much. She was only taller than Harriet by an inch or two. Ever so gently, Winnie pulled the ribbon out of Harriet’s hair, gathering up the soft golden locks again before re-tying it.

“There we are.” Winnie smiled, patting Harriet on the shoulders. Next she turned her attention to Sandy, fixing the puppy’s collar before letting her hand travel down his soft white and brown coat.

“Thank you, Miss Thirley. Can we go now, Dalton?” Harriet returned her attention to her oldest brother, seeming to forget that Dalton had not yet agreed in the first place.

He chuckled, always happy to play along with his sister's whims, though a bundle of nerves coiled in his stomach at the thought of Winnie accompanying them. “I do not mind, but you know who has the final say.”

Not wasting a moment, Harriet turned on her heel, nearly floating across the room to the couch. “Mama, may Dalton, Miss Thirley, Sandy, and I go visit the horses?” Harriet asked in her sweetest voice.

“I do not see why not,” Mama said, smiling down at her youngest child.

They made it outside in record time, Harriet leading the way, practically flying through the house. Sandy kept pace easily despite his short legs, his leash held firmly in his mistress’s hand. Dalton and Winnie walked side by side at a much more leisurely pace, her hand resting gently on his forearm.

The walk did not take long, filled mostly with companionable silence. Though Dalton loved chatting, he felt comfortable in this quiet space that seemed to exist just for him and Winnie. Harriet paid them no mind, her eager legs carrying her across the grass toward the small paddock where their riding horses were kept.

Dalton could not help stealing a few glances at Winnie from the corner of his eye. He wished that she did not have to wear a bonnet so he could see her face better. He simply had to be content with this view. Her soft, plump lips occasionally displayed her emotions, sometimes turning down at the corner slightly as if deep in thought or twitching up in an amused smile. Sometimes, when she took in a deep breath, her lips would part ever so slightly on the exhale. Dalton loved that best of all.

Love? Panic churned in his stomach as the word echoed in his mind. Should he be using the word love when thinking of a friend? Surely it could not be so strange. Did he not have love for his many other friends?

Still, as much as he wanted to, Dalton could not deny that this felt different. He cleared his throat, hoping to clear those unusual feelings away in the process.

“Are you well?” Winnie asked, peering up at him with curious eyes from beneath her bonnet. Dalton noticed the way the soft silk ribbon framed her face, following the contours of her cheek down to her chin, tied with a perfect bow.

“Yes, certainly,” Dalton coughed, trying to give his most cheerful smile.

Winnie narrowed her eyes for a fraction of a second. Dalton knew that she sensed his lie. Well, it was not completely a lie. He could not explain that to her of all people. How could he possibly tell her that he felt wonderful, at peace, and frightened all at once—and only in her presence, or when his thoughts drifted to her?

Winnie did not press him, however. “You look rather refreshed after all the excitement of the festival.”

“I feel much better now that it is behind me,” Dalton said, willing his heart to return to a regular rhythm. “Though I must admit that, despite the stress, it was quite fun.”

Winnie fell silent, a thoughtful expression on her face. Dalton wanted to know where her mind had wandered. He did not have a chance to ask.

“Good afternoon, Cinnamon!” Harriet called out as she ran the last few steps to the paddock fence, waving at a beautiful chestnut mare who grazed nearby.

The horse trotted toward the fence, peering at Harriet and Sandy through the bars. Harriet immediately started chatting away to Cinnamon, completely forgetting about her brother and Winnie.

“Has she always been this fond of horses?” Winnie asked with an amused smile.

“Most certainly,” Dalton responded with a chuckle. “Her favorite toy when she was a baby was her wooden horse. She squealed with such delight the very first time she saw one that you may have thought she had seen a unicorn rather than a simple palomino.”

Dalton and Winnie approached the fence as well, looking out over the paddock to see several other horses playfully galloping, grazing on the sweet summer grass, or napping under the shade of the overhanging trees in the back corner.

“That handsome chocolate colored lad is mine,” Dalton said, pointing out a large stallion lazily trotting along the back fence. “His name is Jeffrey.”

Winnie’s head jerked around. She stared at him incredulously. “Jeffrey? I cannot say that I have heard of many horses called Jeffrey.”

Dalton laughed, some of his usual lightness returning. He so enjoyed this side of Winnie. He was immensely thankful that she felt comfortable enough to show it more often. Dalton had gotten through to her after all. They truly did feel like friends now.

“Yes, I think I was about fourteen when I chose Jeffrey to be mine. For some reason, I thought it would be such a lark to have a horse named Jeffrey,” he explained.

Winnie nodded knowingly. “That sounds very like you.”

Dalton pouted, stepping to the side to bring himself just a bit closer to Winnie, their arms almost brushing against each other. “In what way?” he demanded, feigning offense.

“You always try to find a lark in everything,” Winnie said with a wistful smile. “Even in something as simple as naming a horse. I must admit, I did not see much value in such a way of life, but you have changed my mind—just a bit.”

She glanced up at him, a sly glint in her eye. Before Dalton could think of some clever remark, Winnie’s expression suddenly fell, growing serious and thoughtful.

“Dalton…” she whispered, so quietly he almost did not hear.

The sound of his name on her voice still felt so strange and thrilling. He wanted to hear it more often, though he felt foolish for harboring such a desire. What could he possibly hope to gain from it? It was already unusual enough that they had crossed this boundary so early in their friendship.

“Yes, Winnie?” Her name still sounded just as strange and thrilling coming from his own voice. It felt so soft and sweet and lovely as it passed his lips.

His heartbeat picked up speed, growing both faster and stronger, thundering against his ribs. He could not guess what she might say, which both excited and frightened him. All the while, he silently reprimanded himself for his heart’s betrayal. No matter how many times he reminded himself that he should not be experiencing these feelings, he had yet to be successful in completely banishing them.

“Have you given any more thought to Mr. Mathis’s problem?”

Dalton’s brow furrowed. Of all the possibilities that had flashed through his mind, he had certainly not expected Winnie to bring that up.

“I have, and I am still deciding the best course of action.”

“I see,” she mumbled, nodding thoughtfully to herself. “I know it is not my place, but if I may…”

“You may do anything you like. That is your place when you are with me,” Dalton responded immediately, the words spilling out before he even realized what he was saying.

Heat rose up under his skin, from the back of his neck all the way up into his face. Winnie kept her gaze out over the paddock, her eyes following Jeffrey wherever he went. Dalton prayed that she would not look in his direction until this absurd blush retreated.

“Very well then.” Winnie lifted her head a little higher, a determined set to her mouth. “I had an idea that I thought might help the situation, or at least get started in the right direction.”

Dalton’s eyes widened. He had not expected her to put so much thought into the farmer’s problem, especially when the man had nothing to do with her. It was not her land or her home that would be affected.

He desperately wanted to hear her idea. Anyone could tell that Winnie was a very bright woman. Something told Dalton that she had many thoughtful, compassionate ideas.

Yet his heart sank into a deep, cold corner of his stomach. What would this mean for him if he heard her out? In fact, Dalton realized, he truly should not have gotten this involved in the first place. He had come dangerously close to those terrifying things he needed to delay if he wanted to maintain any semblance of the life and cheer he currently enjoyed.

If he pursued this, he would only bring himself one step closer to that dreaded future.

“Perhaps this is something you should discuss with my father instead of me,” Dalton suggested, his voice coming out harder than he meant.

Winnie looked over at him, clearly surprised by his reaction. “Oh, yes. I shall do that.”

Guilt immediately grabbed Dalton’s chest as he noticed the disappointment in her eyes. Still, he would not allow himself to come near those responsibilities before he had to. Not even Winnie could drag him there.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Winnie left Dalton’s side, coming to stand next to Harriet instead. She put a familiar hand on the girl’s shoulder as she asked to be introduced to Cinnamon.

Harriet beamed, always happy to talk about her horses, as she called them. Dalton watched as Winnie listened attentively, smiling at Harriet’s many enthusiastic tales.

His heart performed a sad flip. Despite the vast differences in their personalities, Winnie and Harriet looked so natural together. Winnie did not seem offended or shocked by Harriet’s lively personality. In fact, she seemed to enjoy the girl’s sweet spirit more and more.

Dalton turned away from them. It suddenly hurt too much to see Winnie interact so lovingly with his precious sister. Much to Dalton’s dismay, he knew exactly why.

When had Dalton started to wonder what having a family of his own would be like? What raising children with golden hair and dark green eyes would be like?

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his thoughts to go blank, willing that vision to retreat to the depths of his mind.

He did not need such thoughts. He did not need a wife or children of his own—not yet.

As much as Dalton longed to imagine such a future—perhaps even how Winnie would fit into it—the thought still gripped his bones with terror.