Margaret Hayes glanced over the registration form before looking back at Vivienne.
Her eyes paused on a single line.
Previous Riding Experience: None.
"...None?"
Vivienne smiled apologetically.
"I’m afraid I made a rather embarrassing mistake."
The instructor raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
"I registered for the Polo Club this morning."
Margaret nodded.
"And?"
"I... didn’t realize knowing how to ride was a requirement."
For a heartbeat, Margaret simply looked at her.
Then she laughed.
Not mockingly.
Just with quiet amusement.
"I suppose that explains it."
Vivienne lowered her head slightly.
"It was entirely my fault."
"I assumed everyone learned from the beginning."
Margaret’s expression softened.
"That’s actually a common misunderstanding."
"The Polo Club recruits players."
"We teach riders."
She closed the clipboard.
"So..."
"I’d say you’ve come to the right place."
Vivienne let out a small breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
"Thank you."
Margaret smiled.
"Come."
"The others are already gathering."
The riding arena was nothing like the polo grounds next door.
There were no players swinging mallets.
No shouted tactics.
No frantic pace.
Only the quiet rhythm of hooves against packed sand.
Students moved patiently beside their horses while instructors corrected posture, adjusted reins, or demonstrated proper techniques.
The entire place felt...
Calm.
Almost peaceful.
Vivienne, however...
Was too busy staring at the horses.
...
They’re huge.
She had forgotten just how enormous they were.
One gray gelding casually turned his head toward her.
Vivienne instinctively stopped walking.
Margaret noticed immediately.
"Nervous?"
Vivienne answered honestly.
"...A little."
The instructor chuckled.
"They’re much gentler than they look."
Vivienne watched another horse lazily swish its tail.
"...Respectfully..."
"I think they look exactly as large as they are."
A few nearby students couldn’t help laughing.
Even Margaret smiled.
"Fair enough."
Once everyone had assembled, Margaret addressed the newcomers.
"Welcome to the Equestrian Club."
"Some of you have ridden recreationally."
"Some have competed."
"And some..."
Her eyes briefly found Vivienne.
"...are meeting a horse for the very first time."
A few students glanced over with friendly curiosity.
Vivienne gave an awkward little wave.
"...Hello."
The light laughter that followed wasn’t cruel.
If anything...
It eased the tension in her shoulders.
Margaret continued.
"Today’s lesson isn’t about riding."
Several students visibly relaxed.
"We begin with the basics."
"Before you can ride a horse..."
"You need to understand one."
Stable hands soon led several horses into the training paddock.
Each stood quietly beside its handler.
Margaret rested a gentle hand upon the neck of a chestnut mare.
"This is Maple."
The mare lazily flicked one ear before returning to the hay she was chewing.
"Maple has taught hundreds of students."
"She’s patient."
"Calm."
"And remarkably tolerant."
Vivienne looked at Maple.
Maple looked back.
...
Vivienne wasn’t convinced.
Margaret smiled.
"Lady Beaumont."
"I think Maple will be looking after you today."
"...Looking after me?"
"In a manner of speaking."
The first lesson proved far simpler than Vivienne had feared.
No saddles.
No riding.
No galloping across open fields.
Instead...
Margaret demonstrated how to approach a horse safely.
How to let it recognize your scent.
Where to stand.
Where not to stand.
How to hold the lead rope.
How to read the position of its ears.
How to tell when it was calm.
How to tell when it wasn’t.
Vivienne listened with complete concentration.
Not because she had suddenly developed an interest in horses.
But because making a mistake around an animal this large sounded like a terrible idea.
When it was finally her turn...
She slowly approached Maple.
Very slowly.
She extended one cautious hand.
Maple lowered her nose.
Sniffed her fingers.
Then returned to chewing hay as though nothing important had happened.
Vivienne blinked.
"...Is that good?"
Margaret nodded.
"It means she accepts you."
"I’ll take it."
The instructor laughed.
"I thought you might."
The next exercise involved leading the horses around a small practice circle.
Vivienne accepted the rope with obvious caution.
"...Please cooperate."
Maple ignored her completely.
The mare continued standing exactly where she was.
Several students nearby smiled.
Vivienne sighed.
"I wasn’t talking to myself."
Maple blinked once.
Still nothing.
Margaret walked over.
"Try asking instead of negotiating."
Vivienne looked puzzled.
"There’s a difference?"
"A surprising amount."
Vivienne turned back toward the mare.
"...Would you mind coming with me?"
Maple finally took a slow step forward.
Vivienne stared.
"...That actually worked."
Margaret smiled knowingly.
"Horses are excellent judges of confidence."
"I’m afraid mine is still under construction."
By the time the morning lesson ended, Vivienne’s sleeves carried the faint scent of hay.
A little dust clung to the hem of her trousers.
Her hair had escaped its neat ponytail in several places.
She was tired.
And despite everything...
She still wasn’t fond of horses.
Not even a little.
She looked toward Maple, who was happily eating again.
"...I still don’t like you."
Maple continued chewing.
Entirely unimpressed.
Vivienne sighed.
"I suppose we’ll just have to tolerate each other."
That, at least...
Seemed to be something they could both agree on.
Margaret gathered the beginners once more.
"Before next Friday..."
"Please prepare proper riding boots if you don’t already own a pair."
"An approved riding helmet."
"And gloves."
"We’ll begin mounted lessons next week."
Mounted.
Vivienne felt her smile stiffen.
"...I see."
The other students dispersed one by one.
Vivienne remained standing for a moment beneath the shade of a maple tree.
Mounted lessons.
Next week.
She still didn’t like horses.
She doubted she ever would.
But...
This wasn’t why she had come.
She hadn’t chosen the Equestrian Club because she dreamed of becoming a rider.
She had come because the Polo Club was only a few fences away.
Because Anthony Ashford was there.
If learning how to ride—even reluctantly—meant she could remain close enough that their paths might occasionally cross...
Then she would endure it.
One Friday at a time.
Vivienne adjusted the strap of her satchel.
The Polo Club should be finishing around now.
Her eyes drifted toward the neighboring grounds.
If she happened to walk by the main exit...
If their paths happened to cross...
That wouldn’t be strange.
Their clubs were neighbors, after all.
...
Right?