Authors: Jillian Hart
Still, they seemed disposed to be congenial this morning as they questioned Hascot about his program and his animals. Though the baron generally answered in short sentences, he at least answered. Best of all, Whit noticed a spark of interest each time Hascot gazed at Lady Amelia, and the lady seemed to find it impossible to directly meet his gaze without blushing. If Charles would just switch his allegiance to Henrietta, perhaps Whit really could finish this fortnight still a bachelor!
“Derby is uniquely suited to raising fine horses,” Hascot was expounding as they progressed down the center aisle, the dry scent of fresh grain hanging heavily in the air. “Good pasturage, clear water, plenty of space.”
Henrietta nodded as if she adamantly agreed. “It does seem quite ideal.”
“And how do you bring your horses to market so far from London, my lord?” Ruby's father put in.
Lady Wesworth and Mrs. Stokely-Trent exchanged glances as if they had quite expected such a question from a shopkeeper.
Hascot did not seem to be troubled by the mention of crass commerce. A smile played about his mouth. “I have no need to go to market, sir. My market comes to me.”
“I can see why,” Ruby murmured beside Whit. “You were right, Whit. They're beautiful.”
They were fine animals, grace combined with power and endurance, each one destined to be prized by its owner. But with Ruby gazing at them, green eyes wide, rosy lips pursed in wonder, he knew the horses were not the only beautiful sight in the stable.
Still, as Hascot directed their attention to this horse or that, Ruby said little. Indeed, in her gray riding habit with its military braid at the shoulders, she should have looked her usual perky self, yet she had one arm wrapped around her middle as if her stomach pained her.
“Is something troubling you, Ruby?” Whit asked as the group paused before a white mare that had Lady Amelia gushing with praise.
The plume in Ruby's riding hat bobbed as she nodded toward their host, who was stroking the mare's flank. “I fear I offended him.”
Whit smiled as the horse breeder ordered Henrietta to back away from the creature. “It isn't easy to offend Hascot. He is more attuned to his animals than to people.”
“But I disparaged his animals.” She sighed, looking up at Whit through her cinnamon-colored lashes. “I did warn you that I tend to speak my own mind too quickly, or too loudly.”
Whit put a hand on his heart. “Never say so!”
Ruby laughed, a sound as warm as her wit. Charles glanced back their way and shifted as if he planned to join them.
Oh, no. Whit was not about to encourage any further connection. He took Ruby's elbow and drew her away from the group. “Let me show you Hascot's pride and joy.”
He led Ruby down the walk to the stall at the back of the stables. The massive horse Hascot had been riding when they had arrived had been rubbed down and given his oats already. Now the black stood, facing them, royal purple blanket across his broad back, sharp glint in his brown eyes.
“Miss Ruby Hollingsford,” Whit said, “allow me to introduce Magnum Opus.”
Ruby's look brightened. “His greatest work.”
“Exactly.” Whit smiled that she'd so easily understood the reference. A composer's magnum opus was generally his finest musical score, but Hascot obviously thought this horse the best of his breeding program.
Magnum must have thought the same, for he regarded Ruby regally a moment, then bobbed his head as if deigning to make her acquaintance.
“He has wise eyes,” Ruby said. She lifted a hand, then hesitated.
“He has a wise heart as well,” Hascot said, coming to join them. “Go ahead, Miss Hollingsford. He will suffer you to touch him.”
As if cognizant of the honor, Ruby reached up and stroked the horse's nose. He shook his head, and she pulled back, but he took a step forward and nudged her shoulder.
“Why, I think he likes me!” The smile she beamed at Hascot made the fellow blink a moment in its glory. Then Hascot inclined his head, as well.
“Magnum is an excellent judge of character. You must have a good heart, too, Miss Hollingsford.”
Whit felt himself standing taller. What, was he proud? He had no claim on Ruby that praise of her should so please him. Yet how could he not be pleased with the way she smiled, cooing at the massive beast as she stroked his cheek? Her every movement spoke of awe and delight.
How would he feel if she looked at him that way?
“What about this lady?” Charles called from across the way, and Whit could only be thankful for something else to consider besides his own odd thought. “I like a filly with a bit of fire.”
Hascot turned, and Ruby pulled back from Magnum with a puff of a sigh to join the others across the aisle. Charles and Henrietta were standing next to a roped-off box where a roan horse stood, hind quarters pointed toward them. The coat was a shade darker than Ruby's hair. Whit could imagine her on its back, flying across the fields, her own hair streaming out behind her.
“You're quite right about the fire, Calder,” Hascot said with a nod. “This is Firenza. I haven't found the right master for her.”
Charles chuckled. “I do think she'd be a good match for you, Miss Hollingsford, if for no other reason than her color.”
“Why don't you try her, Miss Hollingsford?” Henrietta encouraged, reaching for the brass hook that held the rope in place.
“Don't,” Hascot barked, but it was too late. Firenza took a step back and bunched her haunches. Whit knew exactly what was about to happen so he shoved Ruby out of the way and met the brunt of the horse's hooves, right in his ribs.
Fire raged across his chest even as he felt himself stumbling backward into the aisle. His last sight before he hit the cobbles was of Ruby's face, staring at him in anguish.
Chapter Six
R
uby cried out as Whit flew past her, but the stable fairly exploded. Lord Hascot leaped the rope to calm his horse. Lady Amelia rushed to help him. Mr. Calder grabbed Henrietta and pulled her into his arms as if to keep her safe. Mr. Stokely-Trent and Ruby's father came running.
But Ruby reached Whit first.
He lay on the cobblestoned floor, blinking up at the ceiling as if he couldn't imagine how it had gotten there. His mouth opened and closed. She threw herself to the stones beside him, loosened his cravat with trembling fingers.
“Talk to me,” she demanded. “Can you breathe?”
He sucked in a deep breath, winced, but nodded.
Relief lasted only a second. She put her hand behind his back to help him sit up. “Where does it hurt?” Ruby asked. “Your chest? Your ribs?”
“Here, my girl. Let me.” Her father knelt on the other side, put one hand on Whit's back to steady him and began running his other hand over Whit's coat.
“It's all right,” Whit said, and she thought he was trying for a smile. “I'm more surprised than injured.” He raised a hand to block her father's probes.
“You're sure?” Ruby begged, feeling as if the air of the stable was suddenly too thin for her, as well.
“Reasonably.” He tried for another smile, then nodded at her father. “With your assistance, sir?”
Ruby's father positioned his shoulder under Whit's arm and helped him to his feet. By then, the others surrounded them, all visibly concerned.
“I'm so sorry, Danning,” Henrietta was saying, hands worrying before her navy habit. “I had no idea the creature was so vicious!”
“You nearly scared the life out of us, Danning,” Lady Wesworth scolded. “I thought Amelia would faint to see you fallen.”
“Enough of that, my lad,” his cousin declared, reaching out to clap Whit on the shoulder and forcing another wince from Whit. “I've no interest in inheriting the title this way.”
Whit straightened, working his face into his usual poised smile. “It's nothing. Sorry to have concerned you.”
Nothing? He acted as if
he
had inconvenienced
them!
“You were kicked by a horse,” Ruby said. “You should be seen by a physician. You could have broken a rib, cracked your chest bone.”
Whit laid a hand on her shoulder kindly. “I'm fine, Ruby.”
Even in her agitation she saw Lady Wesworth frown and Mr. and Mrs. Stokely-Trent exchange glances. They didn't like the fact that he'd used her first name. At the moment, she couldn't care less. He'd been hurt. He had no business shrugging it off, no matter now manly he thought he must appear. She was ready to argue the point when Lord Hascot pushed into the group.
“She's right, Danning,” he said, a lock of dark hair falling into his equally dark eyes. “I keep a physician on staff. Come up to the house, and I'll have him look you over.”
Ruby thought Whit would argue, but he'd been stretching his muscles and growing paler with each movement, as if he, too, wondered about the extent of his injuries. Now he nodded. “Very well. Charles, if you'll be so good as to escort our guests back to the carriage, I'll rejoin you shortly.”
His cousin nodded as well, but the women immediately set up a howl.
“Amelia cannot be forced from your side at such a time, my lord,” Lady Wesworth protested, pushing the blonde forward. Lady Amelia, paler than Whit, clasped her hands in front of her riding habit as if she were ready to pray the Lord into action on his behalf, or her own.
“You will require nursing, Danning,” Henrietta insisted, stepping forward, as well. “I've read extensively on the subjects of anatomy and physiology.”
“My physician won't abide amateurs in the room,” Lord Hascot informed them before turning to Whit. “Can you walk?”
“I can.” He stepped forward and nearly collided with his fawning friends, all of whom importuned him to allow them to accompany him.
Ruby's temper, which she'd guarded so carefully, snapped. She elbowed Lady Wesworth aside, stamped her boot down on Henrietta's instep and wedged her body between Charles Calder and Whit. Gasps echoed on all sides, but a sufficient hole opened to allow Whit to exit with Lord Hascot.
“Effective,” Henrietta acknowledged before limping out of the stable.
“How dare you!” Lady Wesworth cried, recovering herself enough to point an imperious finger at Ruby. “She struck me!”
“And I might bite you, too, if you stick that finger at me again,” Ruby warned, eyes narrowing.
Lady Wesworth yanked back her hand with another gasp.
“Here now, here now.” Ruby's father waded into the group. “We're all concerned about Lord Danning. It's set everyone on edge. I'm sure a lady of your kind and generous nature must find this situation particularly difficult, your ladyship.”
She inflated, chest pointing accusingly at Ruby. “Assuredly, sir. You would do well to remind your daughter of the proper way to behave under such trying circumstances.”
Ruby felt her father's grip on her elbow. “Oh, I will, your ladyship. Right now.”
Ruby didn't fight him as he pulled her out of the stable. She couldn't have abided another minute with the others anyway. She allowed him to tug her through a gap in the fence and onto the pasture. But as soon as they were safely out of hearing, she pulled out of his grip and stopped him.
“Don't you dare ring a peal over me,” she scolded. “They were selfish and useless, the lot of them. He could be seriously injured, and all they could do was stand in his way!”
“And there's a fine physician seeing to him now,” her father pointed out. “Edinburgh trained, no doubt. Nothing but the best for Lord Hascot's horses.”
“Horses!” Ruby stared at him. “You mean the fellow is a veterinarian?”
“What other sort of physician do you think a horse farm needs on retainer?”
Ruby pushed past him. “That is ridiculous. I've a mind to speak to Lord Hascot this very minute!”
Her father pulled her up. “Ruby Hollingsford, you settle down. Animal doctor or human doctor, he'll know what he's about.” He dropped his hold and shook his head. “What's wrong, girl? It's not like you to lose your head this way.”
Ruby wrapped an arm about her middle. She wasn't sure why, but the gesture always calmed her. Now, however, every fiber of her being seemed to be protesting the idea of stopping and thinking, demanding that she act. She forced herself to take a deep breath, to feel the air brushing her cheek, to hear the whicker of one of Lord Hascot's horses as it passed beyond them.
Hateful, vicious things! Something that magnificent had no business lashing out like that! And she wasn't much in charity with Henrietta Stokely-Trent at the moment either. She thought she knew so much, even about a man's horses. Whit had to bear the price for her actions, and all because he had been trying keep Ruby safe.
“It's my fault,” she burst out. “He was hurt because he was trying to protect me!”
“Now, then.” Her father patted her shoulder with one hand and began rummaging in his waistcoat pocket with the other as if he suspected she would shortly need a handkerchief. “That's what gentlemen do: protect those they love.”
Ruby sniffed, refusing to let a tear fall. “He doesn't love me. And I don't love him, so don't start harping on that string.”
Her father appeared to be assured she was not about to turn on the tears, for he dropped both hands. “Still, you must admit you're a bit touchy where he's concerned. Look at the way you lit into him the first day, just because the poor fellow had the misfortune to be born the heir of an earl.”
Ruby couldn't help smiling, remembering. “It wasn't his birthright but the fact that he hadn't confided it to me that rankled.”
“Ah,” her father said, going to lean against the wooden fence that encircled the pasture. “Then you don't hold his title against him.”
“I didn't say that.” Ruby went to join him, bracing both hands on the wood. Across from them, the others were milling about the landau. Grooms were scurrying to close the hoods on the carriage in response to the thickening mist.
Her father blew out a breath. “You must put that incident with Lord Milton behind you. He was a scoundrel of the first order, title or no. I still wish you'd let me hire someone to thrash him.”
Ruby leaned her chin on her hands. “You can't thrash an aristocrat, Father. That's a hanging offense for commoners like us. And I told you, I don't ever want to hear his name again.”
“Fine, fine,” her father muttered. “I'll say no more on the matter if you promise not to think of it further.”
She wished she could promise that. She knew what was right.
Let not the sun go down upon your anger,
the Bible said. She was supposed to forgive Lord Milton. But how did you forgive someone who took your heart and spat on it?
“What are they doing?” she asked instead, straightening. One by one, Whit's other guests were climbing into the landau.
“Getting out of the rain,” her father guessed. He glanced up at the sky and blinked as a drop hit the end of his nose and rolled down his chin. “Best we do likewise.”
Ruby crossed her arms over her chest. “I'll wait until I know Whit is fine. Besides, I have no wish to join
them.
”
Her father shook his head. “Why must you be so pig-headed, girl? Why are you so defensive around these people?”
She could feel her temper simmering in the background, waiting for the least offense to boil over. “Perhaps I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not.”
Her father frowned. “What do you mean? You're a clever, kindhearted, pretty girl. Why should you need to pretend to be anything else?”
Ruby felt the rain on her cheeks. “I'm a clever, kindhearted, pretty daughter of a jeweler who grew up in Wapping,” she told him. “I don't belong among the aristocracy, and they know it. Sometimes I think I must give off an odor. Or perhaps there's a sign pinned to my back: Watch out for this one!”
“Now, then, none of that,” her father insisted. “You're better heeled than that Lady Amelia and a sight better intentioned than that Henrietta Stokely-Trent. They have nothing on you, my girl.”
Ruby rolled her eyes. “Only titles and family connections.”
“And aren't I trying to have you marry into both?”
Ruby started, then peered closer at her father. His craggy brows were drawn down, and water dripped from his long nose. But he had never looked more serious.
“Is that what you're trying to do?” she demanded. “Help me advance in Society?”
He shrugged, his brown coat hunching even as drops darkened the wool. “Why not? As you said, you have everything else. If I want the best for you, I must help you rise above your circumstances.”
“Perhaps I like my circumstances,” Ruby countered, pushing off from the fence and starting for the house. “Perhaps I'm content with my station.”
Her father snorted as he followed. “You? Content? When you were a babe you crawled across the floor before anyone knew you could even sit up. You raced your pony the first day I put you in the saddle. Every task you mastered, at every game you excelled. There is nothing content about you, my girl.”
Ruby didn't answer him, marching across the pasture toward the house. He was probably right, for at the moment she could not be content until she'd seen Whit. She let herself out the gate and hurried onto the stoop as the rain fell harder.
Inside the house, a helpful footman directed her to the library, where the veterinarian was apparently examining Whit. She barely noted the fine paintings, the thick carpet as she hurried down the corridor. She only knew she had to be certain Whit had taken no serious hurt. She'd never forgive herself otherwise.
She paused in the doorway. The room was darkâdark paneling, dark furnishings, heavy drapes drawn against any outside light as if the very air was trying to hide. Lord Hascot held a lamp for a tall, slender man with spectacles on his nose and curly hair nearly as red as Ruby's.
Whit was sitting on the back of a chair, coat and waistcoat gone so that only his linen shirt covered his chest, submitting to the fellow's inspection. Ruby couldn't tear her eyes away.
Lord Hascot looked up and scowled. Whit turned his head and smiled at her as if in encouragement, but the horse lord set down his lamp on a nearby table and stalked to the door.
“Wait in the withdrawing room,” he directed her and shut the door.
Oh! She was certainly glad her father had fixed on Whit, for if she were forced to endure much more of Lord Hascot's company she'd likely end up shooting him in a fit of pique. Still, she consoled herself as she turned away, Whit did not appear to be suffering too much. She located the withdrawing room, an equally dark space that seemed somehow lonely, and plunked herself down on the brocaded sofa to wait.
Her father found her a short time later. “The others have gone back to the Lodge,” he reported as he took a seat on a sturdy wooden chair nearby.
Ruby shook her head. “Couldn't they even wait to be certain Lord Danning is not seriously hurt?”
Her father shrugged. “Lady Wesworth says Lady Amelia's constitution is too delicate to be exposed to such inclement weather, and Mrs. Stokely-Trent had a case of the vapors and required her husband's and daughter's attention. They all went back in the landau with Lady Amelia's and Mr. Calder's horses tied behind.”
Ruby threw up her hands. “So they expect Whit to ride back, injured and all! Never mind how we're to return. Why do you persist in courting these people, Father?”
Before he could answer, Lord Hascot strode into the room, Whit right behind him. Whit was dressed once more in his riding coat, but his waistcoat seemed broader and he moved gingerly, hesitantly. Ruby was on her feet and advancing before he spoke.