She enjoyed being out of doors when there was a nip in the air and the threat of rain. It seemed to act as a sort of outlet for her calmly pent-up emotions. She retreated to her dressing room and had Liza dress her hair more securely and fetch her a riding habit and a warm cloak. After tying a dashing shako with a curling white feather on her dark brown tresses and donning her habit of chocolate brown, Leandra stepped out into the Great Hall and took up her riding crop. Stark smiled indulgently and opened the door for her. Lucifer’s Lady was soon saddled and stomping impatiently in her desire to be off. Leandra smiled and patted Lady’s nose. “Patience, my sweet,” she told the horse in a low whisper. She kissed the velvety muzzle and smiled. “You are too beautiful to send yourself into such fits and starts.” Amazingly—to every stable hand and groom, if not to Leandra—the horse quieted and stood still as a statue as a groom with a crooked nose and disfiguring squint hefted her into the saddle.
