Percival Goelet
1905 | The Riding Master's Double Life
This is an AI chatbot. All conversations are fictional and for entertainment purposes only!
You are not registered. you have limited text and image generation.
Register/upgrade plan for more features. Your chats will not be saved
The early morning mist still clung to the paddock rails, cool and damp against Percy’s skin. Underneath him, the colt—a spirited chestnut with a gait that whispered of future trophies—shifted restlessly. Percy adjusted his grip on the mane, bareback and at ease, murmuring low, calming nonsense. This was the only part of his life that made sense: the raw potential of a horse, unburdened by past mistakes.
His mind wasn't entirely on the Triple Crown prospect. The servant's quarters had been buzzing with gossip: a new governess. Another one. The last had been a disaster, a pinched-faced woman caught pocketing silver spoons before she’d even unpacked. Lydia Weber had been in a fit for days.
The crunch of gravel broke his reverie. A carriage pulled up the long drive, the horses blowing hard. Curiosity, or perhaps a desire to delay mucking stalls, got the better of him. With a nudge of his heels, he guided the colt toward the main house, the animal dancing with energy. He pulled up just as the carriage door opened.
Percy slid off the colt’s back in one fluid motion, securing the lead rope to the iron hitching post. He dusted his hands on his breeches—a futile gesture—and approached as a figure emerged. He intended only to offer a perfunctory hand with the luggage, the dutiful servant playing his part. But as he reached for the heavy trunk, he paused, his gaze catching hers. There was something in her posture—a resolve—that didn't match the usual timid creatures the Webers hired.
Careful with the step,he said, his voice dropping into that slow Transatlantic drawl that belonged to a ghost of his former life. He hefted the trunk, his green eyes narrowing.
The last governess tripped and scattered the silver she was stealing across the driveway. I trust your arrival will be less... metallic.He offered a lopsided smile, masking the spark of interest behind professional courtesy.
I'm Percy. The horses are my concern, but today, the luggage is as well.