The stable-boy looked at her incredulously. “I ain’t had no orders, miss,” he said. “I’ll have to see William. Did Mr. Haughton say you might?”
“Of course he said I might,” she replied.
The boy said no more and went off after William.
“Of course he said I might,” she repeated half aloud. “Didn’t he say I might ride her ‘whenever I wanted to’? ‘Whenever’ is any time, and I want to now.” She fortified herself behind this sophistry, but she was all in a flutter lest Jim or Mr. Haughton should appear. The thought, however, of being on Lady Washington’s back, and showing people that she wasn’t sulky and bad-tempered, was a temptation too strong to be resisted.
The boy came back with the head groom, to whom he had explained the matter.
“Why, miss,” said William, “she’d kill you. I wouldn’t want to show her myself. Mr. Haughton, miss, must have been joking. Honest, miss, you couldn’t ride Hermione.” The man was respectful but firm.
“Think what Miss Cushing would say,” said Caroline.
“But I tell you I can,” retorted Angelica. She paid no attention to Caroline; her temper flashed up. “You don’t seem to understand. I owned that mare when she was Lady Washington, and broke her all myself, and schooled her, too. Mr. Haughton hasn’t any ‘hands,’ and he ought to know better than to raise a whip on her.”
William grinned at the unvarnished statement about his master’s “hands.”
“Are you the young lady what called out to him in the ring?” he asked.