What's Proper is Boring

[Thomas Tawney]

The previous night's thunderstorm lifted the dreary stench of the city for a few hours. While it still wasn't country air, it did lift the mood of one lord who found himself missing the freedom of being away from civilization. Even the hot muggy smell of decaying undergrowth in India was almost preferable to dense London streets. Thomas summoned his buggy and one of the carriage horses to pull it. The dapple grey stallion stood out in sharp contrast with the black buggy with the leather top folded down given the sunny weather, and the gold accents on the tack gave the whole ensemble a rather striking appearance.

Thomas hauled himself into the lightly sprung buggy and waved off the servant who attempted to climb in beside him. He was more than capable of driving alone, and since returning to England, had barely a spare moment to be alone except for when he was sleeping. He set off at a brisk trot with the reins held lightly in one hand and the whip in the other. The lash barely touched the horse's back and sides, and even when he needed to ask for a bit more liveliness from his horse, he merely laid it across the horse's back rather than striking the poor creature.

He was an early riser, and the streets weren't overly crowded at a time when many others would still be taking breakfast following a night of dinners and dances. The cobblestones rumbled under the buggy's wheels, and the West End was still much the same as how he remembered it as a youth. Some of the shops had changed ownership, but that was a minor difference. He made a mental note to ask his sister about the 'new' modiste, though any time within the past ten years was hardly new to rest of Society. Thomas turned down a few more streets towards the park where the ladies and gentlemen would promenade in a few hours time. But now, only the ducks and geese were strutting about showing off their best plummage.

There was a sharp crack and jolt as the buggy passed over a hole in the road that was filled in by rainwater. The stallion's ears flicked, and he raised his head in the traces as the balance in the buggy suddenly changed. Thomas stopped the horse in the middle of the road which had yet to be cleaned from the previous day and jumped from his seat. The horse calmed easily under a gentle hand and a few soft pats. Sure that the creature wouldn't spook, Thomas crawled under the buggy to assess the damage. He frowned at the broken pin on the front axle. The rust told him enough that it hadn't been properly maintained. Without a servant or any way to safely to get the buggy back home, he was left with only one option. The pin needed to be replaced here and now.

He pulled the toolbox from its place underneath the seat and crawled back under the buggy. It was a tedious process trying to find a spare pin that would fit well enough for a roadside repair, and he hardly had a change to begin removing the broken one before he heard shouting for him to get his nag off the road. Followed by the clatter of wheels and a sharp comment that he was lucky that his master wasn't here to see such disgraceful behavior from one of his staff. Thomas stayed under the buggy as he worked with only his legs sticking out to the side and visible. He wore cream breeches with tall brown boots that hinted at someone with money, though not necessarily his own. The muddied edge of his navy blue coattails were also just visible. With the horse standing at a slight angle, the road was effectively blocked to larger coaches, but a horse and rider or even a chaise could pass by. There was a thin layer of mud across the road that splattered the wheels of the buggy and the horse's fetlocks. And for the man laying in it, his entire back.

Tagged: @eloisebridgerton

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eloise & thomas.

At this hour, Eloise knew most young ladies would still be at home – likely not still in bed, but at breakfast, or being waited on by lady's maids in her chamber, sitting perfectly still while they brushed her hair. Thankfully, Eloise was not most young ladies, for she couldn't think of much worse than that. Balls and dancing with suitors was worse, certainly, but most parts of the life of a young lady was utterly exhausting to her, and she'd much rather be doing this.

On that particular morning, she'd headed out early, informing her mama that she needed to head into town to pick up some new parchment and quills, perhaps buy some books while she was there. She would have to swing by the market, lest her mother realise she was lying, but she'd been intending to head across town soon after. Being in Bloomsbury wasn't considered proper, especially unchaperoned, but she had both a footman and a driver with her...even if they remained in the carriage, that was hardly the point. 

There was plenty of time, of course, before the rest of London would be waking up, and she could actually purchase the things she required, or head across town and get involved in anything that would be considered radical to the rest of polite society. Rallies weren't exactly something that occurred this early, but she didn't account for the very sudden stop the carriage came to. 

There was no reason for it, none that she could think of, any way. Wet as the ground was, she didn't see why it would make a massive difference. That said, it didn't seem they were going anywhere. The footman was quick to assure her he'd check on the matter, but Eloise was hardly the type to sit back and let someone else do everything for her. She was much too stubborn, much too quick to get down to the point. 

Stepping down from the carriage, she peered around, eyes quickly honing in on the man in the breeches. Her nose scrunched up, arms coming to fold across her chest. Clearly something had happened to the carriage, but from where she was standing, unable to see who he was, it seemed that the owner of the carriage must have wandered off somewhere. Surely he was the driver? "Must you stop and do such a thing in the middle of the street?" Of course, he likely had little choice, but that was hardly the point.

Thomas Tawney

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[Thomas Tawney]

The pin finally came loose, and in his search, he'd also noticed a cracked axle clip that was one hard bump away from breaking itself. He worked as quickly as he could replacing the pin and the clip, though it still took some time given the awkward angle. Thomas was forced to reach up around the fifth wheel lest he risk getting his hand stuck in it. The clip was a slightly faster repair, and it unsurprisingly broke in his hand once he'd pulled it out. A fresh clip was hammered into place, and he heard another carriage come to stop behind him. Followed by a female voice. He couldn't quite make out the words with all his attention focused on the underside of the buggy.

Thomas wormed his way out from under the buggy holding the toolbox and the broken pieces. He looked the most like a muddied dog with his brown hair sticking in clumps to his face and grease from the axle on his hands and shirt cuffs. As for being a driver, there was still no master in sight. "My apologies for the inconvenience, Miss. Unfortunately, yes. Part of the front axle near the fifth wheel broke, and I had no way to turn the buggy without breaking it further. It's fixed well enough, now." He dumped the broken pieces into the toolbox and pushed it back under the seat. With his back turned towards Eloise, it was clear that his clothes were either ruined or would take a lot of work to clean.

But the mud and grime didn't seem to bother him as he checked over the traces and patted the horse for standing still so patiently. "I won't trouble you much longer, Miss. And you have my sincerest apologies if I've greatly disrupted your morning." Satisfied with the horse's condition and the tack, Thomas climbed up into the buggy and picked up the reins and whip. He looked ready to drive off without waiting for anyone, and now the upholstery bore mud stains.

Tagged: @eloisebridgerton

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eloise & thomas.

Several times over, she blinked. Eloise found herself staring at him, taking in his disheveled appearance, the tufts of hair and the grease all over. She couldn't say she'd ever seen anyone look that way, even the household help. Appearance was hardly something Eloise cared much about, but most among the ton seemed to care greatly about how they looked, and that included those who worked for the higher class families. Judging by what he was wearing, however, he was no footman or driver – unless he was the best dressed out of all of them. Prior to the grease and dirt, anyway. 

"Do you often do that?" Eloise found herself asking, somewhere between baffled and...well, she wasn't quite sure. She didn't think she was impressed by him, given that she was irritated, but it certainly intrigued her that he'd simply stopped to do that all on his own. How many other gentlemen would do such a thing? Fiercely independent as she tried to be, it intrigued her. Of course, he had the added bonus of being a man, but that was hardly the point. 

She was almost certain she'd seen him before, there was some vague air of familiarity about him, at least, and that spoke for itself. Defiant and not yet ready to get back in the carriage, she shook off the apology, but didn't offer any kind of rebuttal. "You're hardly dressed the part. Did your driver abandon you in your time of need?" 

Thomas Tawney

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[Thomas Tawney]

"Often enough. It's far quicker than sending for a wagonwright to fix it. The repairs aren't too difficult so long as the horse doesn't spook or move, though fitting the correct size pin and clips takes a bit more knowledge than greasing and tightening a loose hub. Besides, I believe it's the fairer trade to inconvenience a few people over the course of fifteen or twenty minutes than everyone for a day." Thomas was calm and unbothered by the situation. It had resolved itself. His buggy was now fit to be driven again, and anyone coming through later in the day would be none the wiser.

The girl intrigued him, though. He didn't think many were interested in carriages or their maintenance except that they had them and they worked. She almost looked interested in what he had to say moreso than she was concerned about his possible station. Nor was she put off by being a young woman without, so far as he could see, a female companion. From his experience, women weren't usually interested in driving either, though the thought crossed his mind that this young lady might agree to learning, if anyone ever offered. She clearly came from a wealthy family judging by not only her attire, but the condition of her carriage and the uniform of the driver. Beyond that, he couldn't be certain.

At the question of his driver, Thomas let out a an amused laugh. It was mirthful rather than mocking, and he shook his head before replying. "No, I wished to go for a drive alone. My driver is at home. I prefer the feeling of the reins in my hand and the chance to turn down whichever street I choose without needing to declare my intentions or be subject to the judgement of another. Well, another person. I trust Tristan to avoid roads with loose stones or to stop before turning down some dangerous alley." There was passion in the way he spoke with a firm belief in the kind of independence driving offered. He spoke of his horse with affection and trust. For an animal who said no words, Thomas knew how to watch the flick of an ear, pressure on the bit, and the way the horse moved. That told him enough, and a horse could never lie.

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eloise & thomas.

There was something so intriguing about him, and about the way he spoke. He was hardly like any other man she knew in the ton, he clearly knew what he was talking about — and sounded knowledgeable about it, rather than like he was bragging. There was a distinct difference between the two, and Eloise was undeniably drawn to people who spoke with such passion about things most or the ton wouldn’t approve of. Perhaps fixing one’s carriage wouldn’t be considered as radical and shocking as her own recent activities, but it still wasn’t something most would bother with. Even her brothers, she was sure, would be quick to have someone else deal with it. That was simply what they’d been taught, and while she didn’t view her brothers as insufferable as the rest of the gentleman around her (Colin aside — he might well be worse), they certainly weren’t like this.

At the mention of him leaving his driver at home, it became apparent that he was of a higher class, and how many men of their station would be alright with getting their hands dirty, allowing their clothes to become so disheveled in the process? He hardly seemed bothered. Some of her irritation melted away, replaced instead by an intrigue. Where had he learnt such things, and why did he seem so unbothered by her seeing him as such? The guard wasn’t entirely down, but she was eager to learn more.

“You do this often? Drive your own carriage, without any help?” It wasn’t like she was unfamiliar with horses, they’d all learnt to ride, especially given the long summers they used to spend at Aubrey Hall, when their father was alive. Riding and driving a carriage, however, were different indeed. Her mama wouldn’t approve if she knew where she was heading now, let alone if she’d commandeered a carriage all on her…speaking one on one with a gentleman hardly helped her case, either, though her own driver and footman were mere feet away. She was stubborn and stood her ground, she wasn’t worried. “How on earth did you learn to do that? Most among so-called ‘polite society’ would be outraged.” She certainly wasn’t, but that was hardly a surprise.

Thomas Tawney

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[Thomas Tawney]

"It's a great past time. In the city, a buggy is sufficient. A chaise is more a woman's vehicle should she wish to drive herself. Or you could hook up near any horse to a gig provided they've been trained to work under harness." He lowered his voice and glanced back to the driver. "Out in the country, if you have any sense of spirit, a phaeton drawn by a pair. You might as well be flying across the fields, and each bump in the trail is enough to send you flying from your seat." Thomas straightened up and let a bit of slack go in his reins to tell Tristan they weren't ready to set off quite yet. "There's a lot more out there than hansoms and stagecoaches that you've been used, too, Miss."

He smiled at her question about how to learn to drive one. So, she was indeed curious and had never been given the choice. Thomas moved hos horse a few steps forward and more properly to the side of the road so that other vehicles could pass. He had a light touch on the reins, and even with the whip, it was like he and the horse held the same opinion. The stallion stopped easily with one set of wheels pushed up over the edge of the road to maximize the amount of space available to others.

"To learn, you would have to find a teacher. It's easier than riding, and I've seen lads with no riding talent pick up the reins of a cab. The horses are well trained to hear and feel the weight of the carriage behind them. I think it would be kinder if they didn't have to wear blinkers, but it keeps them focused on their jobs, and some horses spook at the sight of their own carriage." He demonstrated a little bit turning Tristan's head from side to side with a touch of the reins in his hand and bringing his head up and then letting it back down in the same manner. "It's more polite than most would have you think. Imagine, a young woman and gentleman are suddenly caught in the rain and must return her home in good heath. Walking is no option, it'll take too long. They hadn't planned for the weather and lack horses. But a nearby cab is there with no driver. The driver could be anywhere or getting drunk in the pub. Pile her into the safety out of the rein and drive her home. The cab can always be returned."


Thomas glanced over at the footmen. "If your staff agrees, I could show you how it's done. Not far, not for long. Just around the park and back. Ten minutes at most. Tristan is a safe horse. He's seen everything, and Napoleon himself won't spook the creature."

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eloise & thomas.

It was often said that Eloise talked a lot. She knew it was true, she had a tendency to ramble on about anything and everything, hardly stopping even when she really should. Silence had always bothered her, unless she was reading, and filling it with words seemed to be the best sort of antidote. This was one of the first time when it seemed like someone was passionate enough about something to have said far more words than even she had. It was nice, getting to hear him go on about it, and it had certainly changed her initial opinion. It was hard to be annoyed that he'd interrupted her carriage ride, when he was such a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else of the ton.

So few people made offers like that, for how could they? Why would they? Her brothers had taught her things they shouldn't when she'd been young: how to throw a punch, how to shoot a gun, but they were her brothers. She'd always been more inclined to learn the things they were doing, rather than the cross stitch and piano forte the girls were supposed to learn. 

Now he'd offered, Eloise had taken a liking to him. She didn't know this man's name, hadn't bothered asking who he was, and that hardly seemed like the most important thing anymore. An impressed eyebrow rose, arms finally uncrossing, gloved hands falling to her sides. There was no way she was going to ask permission from her driver nor the footman, though she would inform them that she'd be stepping away for a moment, bribe them with pin money not to tell a soul what they were doing, if she had to. "I do not need their permission. I would be quite thrilled to see how it's done. We are hardly unchaperoned in the park. I learnt to ride when I was quite young, I am certain I could pick it up quite easily. You truly do not mind?"

Thomas Tawney

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[Thomas Tawney]

Horses were one of the few things Thomas could go on all day about. He loved dearly as work animals and intelligent creatures. Any horse treated well would try for its master, and aggression was a sign of bad handling more than a bad temper. But even a bad horse could be brought around. Not all vices were curable, but many were trainable and manageable. The odd creature who was trying too far gone was a tragedy created by man.

"Truly, it's no inconvenience to me. My batman won't mind my absence until dark. And if I must be frank, the thought of spending all morning courting ladies with flowers she'll throw away at the end of the day and gifts she won't look at again is rather unappealing. Apologies, Miss, if you do enjoy those things. I promise you no ill will, and I shan't whisk you away to parts unknown." He half stood in the buggy and picked up a wool blanket from the passenger side. In an effort to protect her clothes as his were already ruined, he lay out the blanket so it covered the back and seat of the bench. It was a clean place to sit, and then he clambered down out the other side to assist her getting in.

"Pardon my boldness, are you often out so early in the morning? Hardly any stores are open this hour, so I can't imagine there's much shopping to be had. Of course, I don't mind. It's merely surprising." He smiled and offered out his hand to her once she was ready to ascend into the buggy. It was a small black vehicle really only meant for two people. The four wheels gave it stability, and the whole carriage sagged slightly under uneven weight.

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eloise & thomas.

A laugh of disbelief tumbled from Eloise's lips. What a rare, refreshing comment that was. She doubted if many men truly enjoyed the courting, but they weren't upfront and open about that, pretending they were perfectly invested in dancing with and sending flowers to young ladies, for it was exactly what their pushy mamas expected. Eloise knew that eventually she'd have to marry, but given that she was fifth child, there hadn't been much pressure as of yet. It would become more and more intense, especially as she was the oldest unmarried girl, but it was the one aspect where men likely did have it worse. They had far more rights, but it was also immediately expected that they find a wife with a sizable dowry, and sire an heir to continue the family name. How exhausting. Nobody really had it easy in their society, they had rights and privilege, certainly, but all of those exhausting expectations remained.

"I can think of several thousand things I'd rather do than be courted by some insufferable gentleman," she scoffed. Unlike him, she wasn't going to apologise for any offence she caused. She'd speak to far more like that if only she could. They all seemed as bad each other. She couldn't say the same so far, he seemed fairly decent, but she'd still sooner do just about anything other than be courted by anyone.

Glancing once back at the driver of her own carriage, Eloise decided to throw caution to the wind, stepping closer to his buggy, reaching a hand out. Her gloved fingers curled around his outstretched hand, and while that in itself was highly improper, she was merely using it to hoist herself up, her free hand holding her dress up slightly, lest she fall. "Not nearly as often as I would like. I usually prefer to fill silences, but there is something so peaceful about this hour of the morning. I simply – wished to head into town before there were too many people around. I do not believe that is a crime."

Thomas Tawney

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[Thomas Tawney]

Thomas let out a bright laugh. He liked her personality and carefree nature. She reminded of him his little sister who'd throw the rulebook to the wind if anyone let her. In truth, he thought this young lady already had. "Well, then, I see we are agreed on that matter." She reminded him of a formerly feral cat. Well brushed and fed with a pretty bow about her head, but the days in forest meant she remembered she had claws and wasn't afraid to remind everyone of that. It was truly refreshing from the other young ladies in the ton, and while he didn't see her as anything other than a mere acquaintance, he hoped that society was small enough that they'd run into each other again. It didn't even matter to him that he didn't know her name. Thomas resolved on calling her a wildcat in his own head for that's what she was most like.

"I suppose that would make us both ne'er do wells, but don't worry. I shan't say a word." He smiled at the soft jest, and he being out early didn't bother him. "Come, you say that you've ridden horses before. Make yourself comfortable, and you can rest your feet against the buckboard if you so desire." He passed her the reins and helped thread them through the fingers of her left hand. The right and now bottom rein sat between her third and fourth fingers while the left and top rein was held between the second finger and thumb. The rest of the loop fell easily in the palm. The whip was held upright in the right hand with the lash over the horse's back but not touching.

"The horse is Tristan. He's a bit heavy in the mouth these days due to his age, but he's seen everything the London streets could offer. He's safe as can be, and you're in good hands." The horse's ears flicked back listening for any cues. "To move forward, tap the horse's back with the whip. A couple more taps if you want to move faster into the trot. To stop, reach forward with your whip hand, grasp both reins, and pull back towards yourself in a steady motion. Release the pressure once he slow down. To turn left or right such as through a corner, tap the side you want to turn to first, then reach up and grab one rein with your whip hand and pull it back slightly to turn his head. Release once he's through the turn. For small corrections in turning such as to follow the road, just move your rein hand back to go left and forward to go right. If you need to shorten the rein, pinch the spot where you want your rein hand to be with the whip hand and slide the rein hand up. To loosen the rein, just loosen your grip and slide back to the desired length. Does all of that make sense?"

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eloise & thomas.

He seemed nice enough, considering he was a part of the ton. He certainly didn't appear to be like most gentlemen, though she supposed she didn't know him entirely as of yet. Eloise didn't particularly wish to get to know him any better, for she didn't want anyone to operate under the assumption that she was being courted. Perhaps he was married, or otherwise unavailable, for she didn't wish to for anyone to make that sort of assumption. She was happy to spend time with him as a friend, were he to keep showing her how to drive like this. Perhaps she could pick it up by herself, if she tried, but it would likely be a bit more dangerous, because she'd simply be attempting to figure it out by doing it. Though she'd ridden horses before, the poor creature may spook if she had to work it out on her own.

Deciding to go along with it at least this time, Eloise hoisted herself up into the buggy (using his hand for support), and seated herself beside him, taking the offered out reins. This was already somewhat scandalous if anyone saw them, for they were sitting so close. She knew the driver was likely watching them, but she could ensure he wouldn't say a word...and besides, he hadn't shouted anything telling her to stop, so she was going to take that as a good sign.

As instructed, she tapped the horse with the whip, nodding along with his explanation. She was certain she'd be fine, for while she'd never excelled in the things expected of a lady, she'd always been better at the things she wasn't supposed to know. She'd always been far better at shooting than she was at pianoforte, and that was the kind of thing that was likely to stay true. "It makes perfect sense," she assured, focusing hard as the horse began to trot forward. How thrilling it was to feel she could do this, could be in charge of a carriage, with no driver in sight. "How am I doing so far?"

Thomas Tawney

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[Thomas Tawney]

Thomas watched her with the intensity of a teacher. There was nothing more to it and no ulterior motive. He knew his horse and how he'd handle, and it really was by luck that he'd chosen to take old Tristan out for the morning instead of a fresher horse. The stallion's ears flicked back and forth listening to his new driver and keeping up a steady pace. He was an honest worker and put his weight into the traces with a well arched neck. He stayed on the bit, and the steady trot created a most pleasing rhythmic sound of hooves clopping on cobblestones.

"Brilliantly. And I don't say that lightly. There, keep your elbows close to your sides like you were riding. Unless of course, you wish to jab your passenger in the ribs." He smiled and watched the horse's movement for a few moments before returning his attention to his student. "See how he's dropped his right shoulder? You should be able to feel some slack in the right rein. It's rather natural for a horse to want to drift to the side of the road. He's also putting more weight in his front end which will cause his gait to appear heavy and lopsided. It's similar to when you're riding. You want the horse's fore to be light and free to move. Shorten the top rein about half an inch just until he picks the weight up off his right shoulder. The reward to giving in to pressure is the release of that pressure."


So far, she hadn't objected to the longer explanations, and Thomas was always of the opinion that knowing the why of something was just as important as the how. He watched how she responded carefully, and Tristan was more than biddable given the proper direction. The stretch of road continued on, but there was a sharp intersection with the park still on their right side. At this hour, the streets were still quiet, so thankfully, no else saw them sitting together. "Shorten the reins an inch to collect his trot, and then tap his right side to let him that he's about to turn. He'll lift his right shoulder, and you'll feel a bit of slack in the left rein. Shorten it just until you feel contact with the bit again. That will keep him balanced through the turn. Once you're ready for the turn, reach forward with your right hand and shorten the right rein to turn his head. Hold it until the horse is through the turn. The carriage follow where the horse goes. Release the extra pressure on his mouth from both reins, and then you can click your tongue to ask him back into a livelier trot."


It was a lot to explain, but it was nearly the same as with riding. The motions and principles were the same, only the reins were significantly longer. The whip acted as a replacement for leg aids, and the preparation from the driver was necessary to keep him from putting too much weight on his front end and losing balance. Power came from the hind end, and a horse that put too much weight on the fore looked unbalanced. Form followed function and function followed form.

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eloise & thomas.

It truly was the first time she'd allowed anyone to speak so much. With almost anyone else, Eloise would have been likely to cut him off some time ago. She was always quick to stop people from talking, quick to cut people off when they started to irritate her. She was too bold and too stubborn to care too much about being rude. Most gentlemen liked the sound of their own voice too much, and she didn't much care if they were offended. She didn't want to have her ear talked off, she was usually the one who talked too much. She'd told Colin to be quiet numerous times, and he didn't ramble on nearly as much as Thomas had.

This, however, was different. She was learning from him, and that made her wish to concentrate. Learning was something she'd always enjoyed; she'd been striving to nurture and expand her mind for a long time, and given that university wasn't an option for her, she'd learnt what she could when she could. Her brothers could attend Eton, and then go on to university, but she could merely learn from others around her now that she was eighteen, and governesses were a thing of the past. 

Nodding, Eloise tucked her elbows in, shortening the reins as instructed. It was funny how well she could listen when she actually wanted to. Nobody would believe she was being so quiet and so patient, but she could hardly tell them about this. Eloise wasn't ashamed of what she was doing, but much like the rallies she'd been attending across town, she knew this was something she'd have to keep mostly to herself, lest she get in trouble. Her mother would be furious if she knew, she was disappointed enough in her as it was, as far as Eloise could tell.

"You should consider yourself lucky," she told him, stealing a glance over at him. As they came to the end of the street, she followed Thomas' instructions carefully, shortening the reins, tapping the horse's side. Catching her breath for a second, she waited for the slack she'd been told about, relieved when it came. This would only end horribly if the horse didn't follow her lead, but she reached her hand forward, and the horse turned as he'd said it would. It seemed she could do this, at least when she was being instructed. It likely wouldn't be as easy on her own, but it seemed to be going well. "I'm never this quiet. I seldom know when to hold my tongue, my brothers often say I'm too direct and talk too much. They certainly aren't wrong. I suppose it is different when you are teaching me something, most gentlemen talk about themselves too much. They're insufferable. This, however, I can handle. It is quite fascinating, meeting someone who knows how to do this."

Thomas Tawney

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[Thomas Tawney]

He had to admire his young student for her seriousness in learning. He could see it on her face that she was listening and concentrating, and unlike some officers he knew, actually cared enough to pay attention. The way he spoke made it clear he knew what he was talking about when it came to driving and horses, and he cared about doing more than hauling the poor beast around by its head. There were times he'd been tempted to call out a London cab driver for the poor treatment of the horse, and he'd stopped more than one carriage in the country for trying to send a team of horses through a bad road when the horses didn't want to go.

"I'm certain I won't mind hearing what you have to say. You strike me as an intelligent young lady and not at all a wearisome conversation partner. I appreciate directness over vexing innuendos and half-truths. And I can only agree that too many men are arrogant and infatuated with themselves. If you'll keep this to yourself, I dare say Parliament is where you'll find a great many insufferable gentlemen." The only reason he felt qualified to speak on the character of members of Parliament was because he was related through marriage to one. And he did indeed fit the description of someone who talked about himself too much and almost never with any prompting.

"You learn quickly, and I'm glad you find this fascinating--Give him his head an inch and let him pick his own pace. There's still a ways before you'll have to turn again--and a good student such as yourself is always a pleasure to teach." The praise was genuine, and he hoped it didn't come across as pandering. There was something refreshing about teaching someone who truly wanted to learn, though he couldn't deny the thrill of how scandalous this would all be if they were sighted. A young lady and a man completely unchaperoned sitting close as they were in the small buggy and with her holding the reins no less. "Will you be in London for long? If it suits you, we could make a regular appointment of this. One horse is enough for a buggy or chaise, but more often you'll find carriages pulled by pairs. It's similar in theory, but it takes practice managing two horses. And, if you're not opposed to some work, I can teach you how to harness horses so that you won't be reliant on a groom every time you wish to drive. The shafts, pole, and collar weigh the most, but if you can carry your own saddle, the weight is not greatly different."

It was a dangerous offer and he knew it. Especially teaching her how to harness a horse would require them finding someplace very quiet and alone where she could practice a few times. And each outing increased the risk of being spotted. But there was a part of him that wanted her company and wanted her to agree. He wasn't ready to say it, but he was curious about her life as a fellow human with no other motivation. She was fearless in a way many other women weren't.

Tagged: @eloisebridgerton