Fact: Most people know that England's inheritance system was based on primogeniture, meaning that titles and estates were always passed down intact to the eldest son, leaving younger sons scrambling for means of supporting themselves, often by purchasing a commission in the military or entering the clergy. Primogeniture usually involved an "entail", which basically said the estate – the family seat at least – was legally tied to the title and could not be sold or divided up in any way. This ensured that great estates stayed that way, rather than be chiseled away to become smaller and smaller with each generation by dividing it among siblings. If there was no eldest son to inherit, the next in line might be a nephew or cousin, etc. Except in extremely rare cases, daughters could inherit neither the title nor the entail. This system often led to impoverished gentlewomen with very little means of support other than family charity. And so we have the Dashwood Sisters of Jane Austen's Sense & Sensibility.

What a lot of people don't realize is that property or wealth not included in the entail, for instance revenues from other sources such as independent investments, smaller inheritances, or property purchased separately, could be left to anyone the owner wished, including women. There were no laws that said women couldn't inherit and own property, but they rarely did. The reason? Women were believed to be incapable of managing their finances – they would no doubt squander the inheritance, or be cheated out of it. Most fathers therefore avoided leaving anything to their unmarried daughters, or if they did, they assigned a guardian or trustee to oversee things, which basically left her at his mercy. If a woman was married, of course, her husband immediately gained full control of any wealth she inherited. By the way,Victoria was no great proponent of women's rights. On domestic issues she typically deferred to Albert's judgment, and she had no patience for the growing suffragette movement. I know, you'd think…

Excerpt: (Yesterday we saw Colin in action. Today it's Holly's turn…)

Perched sidesaddle, Lady Sabrina cantered once around the paddock, catching Holly's eye as she rode past her and flashing a grin Holly couldn't help returning.

The filly, Sport o' Kings, glided in and out of the obstacles, its stride smooth and steady. "Oh, Lady Sabrina is quite good," Holly exclaimed, her pulse accelerating even as the young woman quickened the pace.

Beside her, Mr. Bentley grumbled, "If their father were at home, he'd never allow it."

"Allow what?" Holly tilted her head at him, though she kept her eyes on Lady Sabrina. She took the first jump smoothly, but as she approached the next, the animal balked, threw his head up, and swerved hard to the right. Unprepared, Lady Sabrina wobbled in the saddle.

Gasps shot through the spectators. She quickly recovered her balance, but the horse's footing remained erratic. It shied away from the next obstacle and again, the sudden motion threatened Lady Sabrina's balance. She hung on and tried to steady the animal, but to no avail.

"She's in trouble," Holly announced to no one in particular.

"Good God, not again," replied a voice she hadn't expected.

Lord Drayton stood at her shoulder, his brow knotted in a scowl of concentration.

Sabrina came around the paddock toward them, her horse kicking up enough dust to attract first Colin's attention, then his concern. He studied the animal's stride, heard the faltering beat of its hooves striking the ground. Around the fence, spectators pulled back and covered their mouths to ward off swirling clouds of earth.

"It's become a battle of wills," Miss Sutherland said softly. The breeze shifted, bringing her spicy scent to tantalize his senses. For a moment he forgot his sister and thought only of the beauty beside him. What had she and Bentley been talking about?

Bentley—if ever a man had been in danger of having his neck snapped, he had in those minutes he'd claimed Miss Sutherland's hand. And yet what business was it of Colin's whose hand she held? She wasn't his. She could never be. Period.

"My lord, your sister is typically a proficient rider, is she not?"

The urgency in her voice snapped him back to his senses. "This isn't at all like Sabrina," he said. She seemed to be doing all the wrong things and making matters worse. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Sabrina, ease up and go with her, not against her."

The filly stopped, lurched, and attempted abrupt changes in direction while Sabrina fought to hold her on course. Miss Sutherland leaned forward over the rail. "Something must be done. If she doesn't loosen the reins, she risks rendering the animal head shy."

The term set off an alarm inside him. "I'm not about to let that happen."

He strode to the gate, swung it open, and entered the paddock. Sabrina came round again, still clearly struggling, the filly increasingly agitated. Colin moved into their path, his arms extended to attract the filly's attention. The animal knew him; he'd conducted the greater portion of her training and had long since won her trust. He could have approached her in any field, held out his hand, and within moments had her nibbling oats from his palm.

Not today. When she saw him, her eyes rounded and her nostrils flared. Colin sensed her apprehension just before she whinnied and swung wide. The filly reared and Sabrina's little plaid riding cap flew off. Colin's gut clenched as he expected his sister to tumble to the ground after it, but her well-honed sense of balance kept her in her seat.

Colin started toward them again. He was still some yards away when hoofbeats surged from behind him and a lengthy shadow swept past him.

Holly didn't wait to see if Lord Drayton would meet with success. As he hurried to his sister's aid, she hefted her skirts and ran to the opposite enclosure, where other horses awaited their turn in the paddock. The closest horse to the gate was a bay, already saddled and tied to the rail.

"Miss? Excuse me, but what on earth do you think you're about?"

Holly ignored the groom and pulled herself into the saddle. With no time for niceties such as adjusting her skirts so she could approximate a sidesaddle position, she slipped her feet into the stirrups. The youth's face was a streak of ruddy color as she urged the colt past him.

"Miss! Come back here! You can't—"

The colt's energy pulsed beneath her like surging ocean waves. She must be careful or she could just as easily lose control and find herself in the same predicament as Lady Sabrina. She glimpsed Lord Drayton's face as she rode past him, saw his surprise give way to consternation and then anger. She took no heed as he shouted her name.

Sport o' Kings danced about, shaking her head and pulling at the reins, giving Lady Sabrina a jolting ride. It appeared the young woman could barely manage to hang on. Praying she could keep the colt calm, Holly urged him to the filly's side.

"Give her her head and allow her to follow my lead," Holly called softly to Lady Sabrina. The girl nodded and carefully loosened the reins.

Holly wagered on a horse's instinct to run in a pack, and on the filly and the colt having a rapport. The filly acknowledged the colt's presence with a twitch of her ears and a momentary easing of her erratic movements. Holding her breath, Holly stole the opportunity to squeeze with her knees and set the colt to an even, comfortable lope.

With a burst of triumph she watched the filly take her cue from the other horse. Matching his pace, she fell in beside him, her stride smoothing and elongating. After a lap around the paddock, Holly ever so gradually slowed the colt to a trot, then a walk, and then finally brought both animals to a halt.

Sport o' Kings's fatigue showed in her snorting breaths and her quivering, sweating flanks. Holly leaned over to run the flat of her hand along the filly's damp neck. Lady Sabrina's hands shook where they lay in her lap, still clutching the reins.

Lord Drayton ran up to the filly's side. "Are you all right?"

Her brow furrowed, her gaze pinned on the black mane in front of her, Lady Sabrina nodded faintly. Her brother raised his arms to grasp his sister about the waist. She leaned in to him and allowed him to lower her to the ground.

"You were fighting her, Sabrina," her brother said quietly. "You know better than that."

"She has never behaved that way before. . . . I don't understand it. . . ." Lady Sabrina regarded the filly, standing calmly now and rubbing her head against the colt's neck.

As Lord Drayton and his sister continued their murmured conversation, Holly became aware of the twittering onlookers.

My goodness, did she really ride in astride?

Did you see how her skirts flew up to expose her ankles?

She did save the day, albeit in a rather scandalous manner.

Her family? They're nobody, really. . . .

She glanced around at the shocked and curious faces, her cheeks heating. The urgency of the situation had sent her scurrying for a remedy, the only one she could think of. Only now did she realize how she looked to the others, sitting astride in the saddle with her skirts tucked round her legs and her ankles on display. She remembered the earl's angry look as she had ridden by him. Her heart sank and her cheeks flamed hotter.

"Miss Sutherland?" He had moved beside her horse, and stood with his arms extended to her.

"Lord Drayton, I am sorry. I only thought to . . ."

"Yes, but not now, Miss Sutherland. Please, just let me help you down."

His hands braced her sides at her waist, and what should have been a simple gesture of assistance set off a firestorm of confusion inside her. She forgot to lean and set her hands on his shoulders so he could lift her from the saddle. She knew only that he touched her as he had never touched her before, and that she wished him to go on touching her, touching more of her, touching her endlessly. His hands were strong and warm and sure, as she had always known they would be, all those times she had peeked at them and tried to imagine them on her.

She'd gotten her wish, but to what purpose?

"Miss Sutherland, is something wrong?" Oblivious to her untoward musings, he lowered his arms. "You seemed in control, but perhaps you were injured?"

She shook her head, more to clear it than in reply, so aloud she said, "I was not hurt, my lord."

Why do you suppose she just sits there?

Can you hear what she is saying to him?

The continued speculation sent fresh waves of heat climbing from her chin to her hairline.

The earl raised his hands to her again. "If you please, then."

"Oh, yes. How silly of me."

She set her hands on his wide, sturdy shoulders. He seemed to bear her weight with no effort at all. As he lowered her to the ground, she leaned more fully in to him—she couldn't help herself—and her thighs brushed his, and then her breasts briefly grazed his hard chest, sending a shock of awareness through her.

"There you are," he whispered. Her feet touched the ground, but he didn't release her. They stood toe-to-toe, bodies no longer touching but close enough for his heat to penetrate her clothing, for his breath to graze her cheek, for her lips to feel drawn to his as if by a magnetic pull…

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