Blushing as any lady would given such pretty words complimenting her, Isla gazed up at her Lord Darlington quite adoringly. She was enthralled as he spoke of his home, picturing it in her mind, especially in regards to the willow trees.
"I adore the willow, don't you? Such a beautifully sorrowful tree," she mused. Her grin widened at the accuracy of her guess, and she was not the least bit disappointed to know his horses were white. "Oh, not at all. White horses are much more romantic and distinguished than black ones. No, I am quite pleased you have white horses and I shall picture you with them when I imagine you in the years to come."