Authors: Elizabeth Michels
His golden brown eyes lit with excitement. “Would you care for a tour, tomorrow perhaps? I would like to further our acquaintance while showing you my prize horses.”
“I would be honored. One o’clock?”
“I will see you then. Now if you will excuse me, Miss Phillips. I see a few new guests I need to greet.”
“Of course,” she replied. He nodded in farewell and moved to the far side of the room where a few people were drifting in the door. She watched him go. Amberstall was not so horrible a man. As of yet, he was the most tolerable gentleman on Solomon’s list of suitors. His blond hair glistened in the light from the setting sun outside the window. He wasn’t altogether unattractive, either. Perhaps her tour of the stables wouldn’t be so bad after all.
A movement in the doorway caught her eye and she watched the duke enter. Amberstall’s handsome image faded in comparison to the intense look of His Grace. There was something untamed in the way he carried himself. She cleared her throat and blinked away the thoughts as he appeared to be prowling in her direction.
“Good evening.”
“Your Grace.” His mother’s words about his bags being left behind settled back around her, making her smirk. “I’m glad to see you’re wearing clothing this evening.” The words were out of her mouth before she could think better of them. She had not just referenced the duke’s potential nakedness in public—and yet she had. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.
Think
of
something
else, anything else.
“Do I not normally?” His mouth quirked up in a grin.
“Normally?” She had lost the thread of the conversation completely in her need to stop thinking of the muscles hiding under his evening clothes.
“Wear clothes. I can only think of one occasion when I did not…wear clothes. If I’m not mistaken, you were there as well.” He was grinning fully now, the corners of his eyes creasing as the smile stretched across his face.
“It’s just something your mother said. I shouldn’t have mentioned…”
“Would you prefer it if I didn’t…wear clothing? Because I can easily remedy the situation.”
“No!” she exclaimed a little louder than she had intended and then smiled at a lady who turned to look at her.
“Apologies. I only asked if she thought your gown was too garish. But I think she approves,” she heard His Grace utter from her side.
Turning back to the duke, her smile turned into a grimace as he laughed. Infuriating man! Near the doorway a bell sounded, indicating it was time to move to the dining room. She gave His Grace one last narrow-eyed glare before he turned and walked toward the door, leaving her alone and irritated yet again.
As dinner began, Lillian took a sip of wine to strengthen her frayed nerves. Across the table, Miss Yurdlock was telling everyone who would listen about her journey out of London and the innkeeper they encountered when they stopped off on their way. Lillian stopped listening when she discovered the high point of the story was the innkeeper’s poorly tied cravat.
She stole a glance down the table at the duke. It was odd how she could find him infuriating and devastatingly handsome simultaneously. He was busy conversing with Lord Steelings, but he looked up as if he could feel her eyes on him. His mouth tilted up in the hint of a smile before he turned his attention back to Steelings. He seemed pleased, too pleased, anxious even. Whatever he had planned for tonight, she was grateful she had no role to play in it. Feeding snacks to a horse, she could manage. However, causing a scene during a dinner was another matter altogether.
Sue nudged her with an elbow. Private discussions were impossible at such events, but she could read the look of annoyance written across her friend’s face. Miss Yurdlock flashed a toothy grin around the table as she said, “I’ve never been so relieved to get back into a carriage.” One gentleman laughed at her tale as everyone else buried their boredom in the smoked fish on their plates.
“Thornwood, I heard you rode here on your gray,” Amberstall said from the head of the table.
“Yes, it was a nice day for a ride and Poseidon wanted to stretch his legs a bit.”
“I trust he was settled into my stables to your satisfaction when you arrived.”
“Yes, his accommodations will certainly do…for such a short visit anyway.” The duke took a bite of fish, appearing unaware of any offense he caused with his comment.
The sound of a fork scraping across china silenced the table. “Did you have the opportunity to visit the stables today?” Amberstall narrowed his eyes on the duke. “Fensworth mentioned to me that you might be in need of a tour.”
“Oh, I saw all I need to see today. Horseflesh speaks for itself.” His Grace stuffed a large bite of potato into his mouth as he nodded in greeting toward another gentleman farther down the table.
“Yes, I was discussing that same topic with Wellsly earlier,” Amberstall grated. “Sadly, most cannot discern the difference between quality…and woefully average when it comes to the intricacies of equine breeds.” He paused, allowing his words to swirl about the table with an answering series of uncomfortable shifts in chairs and intakes of breath. “It seems a shame not to show off the
premium
horseflesh I have here on the estate.”
“Perhaps we could have an exhibition,” the man she thought was named Wellsly supplied with a narrow-eyed smile.
“Yes, that sounds perfect.” Amberstall sat back in his chair, staring at the duke. “Perhaps then Thornwood’s opinion of our stables will improve.”
“Doubtful.” She heard the word rumble down the table, hidden within a cough as the duke took a drink of wine.
There was a smirk clinging to the corner of his mouth and Lillian’s eyes narrowed on him. This was part of his plan. What was he doing? She sat forward to watch.
“Once you see my horses’ performance, especially that of Shadow’s Light, you won’t be able to deny the true talent bred at Amber Hollow. Not like your mount.” He waved a hand down the table. “Even Steelings is set to purchase a horse from me.”
“I was in the market,” Steelings added, shooting a concerned look toward Thornwood.
“Steelings is easily wooed by embossed leather and the handsome color of a mane.”
“Who can blame me for the appreciation of beauty wherever it can be found in this world?” His eyes darted to Sue in a quick motion that Lillian didn’t presume anyone noticed, yet Sue turned a brilliant shade of pink.
Amberstall was still raging at the end of the table. “Steelings is leaving here with the third generation of the legacy that was…”
“The third generation of some other horse,” Thornwood cut in. “Include jumps in the exhibition. Difficult jumps. Watching horses simply prancing about proves nothing. If your horses are able to do more than appear shiny, that is.”
“You believe my stables are filled with good looks alone?” Amberstall almost yelled.
“You said it.” Thornwood raised a brow in challenge.
Fensworth leaned over the table to say in a loud whisper, “Calm yourself, Amberstall. He is mad, you know.”
The duke smiled and raised his glass toward Fensworth. “Life requires a touch of madness at times.”
“I will have a course assembled in the morning to include no fewer than four jumps. You’ll see how the horseflesh here excels in what I consider to be a standard exercise.”
“Yes, I shall see. We shall all see.” His Grace nodded.
“Tomorrow at four o’clock.” Amberstall’s fair features had darkened as he scowled at the duke.
“Let’s make it three. No sense waiting in anticipation any longer than necessary.” His Grace smiled as he stabbed another potato and stuffed it into his mouth.
Lillian opened the heavy front door of the estate and walked out into the brilliant afternoon. It was one of those rare days in England when the clouds had all been scared away, leaving a bold blue sky in their absence. A breeze pulled at her hat and she put a hand up to steady it before continuing on toward the stables. She’d spent the past ten minutes waiting in the foyer for Lord Amberstall to meet her for their tour, but when she heard the clock in the parlor strike one, she gave up on his escort.
As she neared the stables, she could see Amberstall in the distance overseeing the grooming of a horse in the paddock nearest the house. He wore a dark green coat which contrasted with his blond hair, making him appear golden in the bright sunshine.
She felt a pang of guilt at having a mysterious parcel of herbs in her pocket. He didn’t deserve to be the object of the Duke’s scheme and neither did his poor horse. Perhaps she wouldn’t adhere to His Grace’s wishes. Maybe it was time to call his bluff. She smiled as she joined Amberstall outside the main entrance to the stables.
“Ah, Miss Phillips. Is it one o’clock already? I do hope I’m not in danger of missing our engagement today.” He bowed over her hand with a charming smile.
“I would never allow it. I’ve been looking forward to this little tour.”
“Very good.” Amberstall smiled as he slid open the large door to the stable. “Down this way is the area where most of my horses are housed.”
They walked into a central hall with a cobblestone floor under a vaulted ceiling. Several chandeliers hung from heavy beams to light the area. Ahead was a row of parked carriages, all black and gleaming in the light cast from the open stable doors. They turned down the left wing of the structure, walking past candle-filled sconces bracketed into the brick walls across from an endless string of stalls. Lillian paused when she saw a newborn horse munching on hay in a stall corner.
“Oh my, what grand surroundings for such a sweet little horse,” she commented, walking over to the foal and watching it wobble on newfound legs.
Amberstall joined her at the stall door. “His name is Silent Thunder. He was born only a few days ago.”
“Silent Thunder,” she repeated with a smile, glancing at the man at her side.
“You have a lovely smile—nice straight teeth,” he mused.
“Oh, thank you, my lord,” she stammered. What an odd compliment to give someone.
He pushed off the stall door and continued down the hall. “If you will follow me this way, you will see we have a well-supplied tack room.”
Lillian followed him down the long line of stalls and turned into the tack room, which looked more like a tack warehouse. Rigging, stirrups, and saddles were hung on giant racks in aisles filling the room. “Goodness, how many saddles do you have?”
“Over a hundred. They have different purposes. Some are for racing, others for jumping.” He pointed to the far corner. “Those in that section over there are all suited for ladies.” His eyes drifted over her body as he continued, “You would need a smaller saddle since your hips aren’t very wide.”
“Oh.” She could feel heat rushing to her face at his comment.
“It isn’t so bad. I once had a filly I thought would never be able to give birth because her haunches sat so close together, yet she produced a prize-winning colt. Of course, she died during the birth.” He looked her over again and gave a quick nod of his head. “However, I’m sure you’ll be able to bear children just fine—even with those hips.”
“Thank you for your professional opinion on the matter, Lord Amberstall.” Her teeth were gritted into a smile. Perhaps he was not the shining star of Solomon’s list after all. Had he just compared her hips to those of a horse? Her hand patted the hard parcel in her pocket.
“Certainly.” He turned and led her through another door to an outdoor paddock. “That is Shadow’s Light. Isn’t he magnificent?” There in the dusty ring, his prize horse pranced in a circle.
“Yes, quite nice,” she offered.
“I’ve bred him back generations. He’s the future of my stables. You see the gleam of his mane in the sun? That shows his good health.” Amberstall beamed with pride.
She watched the chestnut-colored horse toss his head as he was being led closer by a stable hand. Insulting as the man was, she had to admit his horse was beautiful. “His coat does shine in the sun. That shows a horse’s health?”
“It does. I see that your hair shines rather nicely in the sun as well, Miss Phillips. That speaks well for you, as does your lineage.” He tapped his hand on the top rail of the fence as he considered her with narrowed eyes. “Coming from the Bixley line…one has to consider breeding ability…your family name is old…” he mused aloud to himself.
“Breeding ability?” She must have misheard him. No gentleman spoke of bearing children in those terms. It was indecent.
“Well, certainly. When your brother contacted me and mentioned your desire for a husband, I was concerned about your late age, but I can see you still have a few years ahead of you.”
“I do like to think so, m’lord.” She was having trouble hiding the grimace from her face.
A
few
years
ahead
of
you
echoed in her mind as her fingers itched to shove the herbs into his mouth.
Amberstall glanced away for a moment. “Will you excuse me? I see one of my grooms leading the wrong horse out to exercise. I’ll return in a minute.”
“Of course.” She strained to offer him a sweet smile before turning, the look sliding off her face. She stepped up to the fence, gripping the rail until her knuckles were white.
The man leading Shadow’s Light around the paddock brought the horse over to where she stood. “Would you like to pet him, m’lady?”
“Yes, I believe I would.” Her hand slipped into the pocket of her pelisse, feeling the weight of the parcel there. Palming the snack, she pulled it from her pocket while hiding it in the folds of her dress. She ran a hand down the horse’s nose, watching him shift to smell her. All she had to do was get this groom to walk away for a minute. She smiled as an idea occurred to her.
Patting the horse’s cheek, she allowed her voice to be honeyed as she said, “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Yes you are. Yes you are.” She caught sight of the man on the other side of the fence rolling his eyes. It would only take a bit more annoyance and he would leave. “Is it a rough life being a horse? Yes it is. Yes it is.” The man tending the horse wandered away, as she had planned. After all, who would want to listen to her babble to a horse?
She opened the package and lifted it in her open palm, sniffing it. It smelled like chamomile tea. Why would the duke want Amberstall’s horse to eat tea leaves? She shrugged and allowed Shadow’s Light to eat the oats and herbs from her hand. “That’s a boy.” She brushed her hands off and stepped away from the fence with a grin. Glancing around, she saw Amberstall leading a horse out of the stables.
He looked her way, his features tilting into an apologetic smile. “Miss Phillips, I’m afraid I must end our tour. My work here never ceases. And with the exhibition this afternoon…”
“I understand. You have a lovely facility here.” She gestured to her surroundings.
“Thank you. I look forward to seeing you at the demonstration this afternoon. Perhaps we will see one another again this evening?”
“Yes, I can see that you’re busy. I’ll see you this evening. Thank you for the tour.”
“Until this evening.” He bowed over her hand before turning to continue on his path with the horse.
“Good luck this afternoon,” she called out after him with a smile. She had a feeling he would need all the luck he could acquire.
***
Devon leaned against a fence post bordering the field where five of Amberstall’s horses were gathered. He watched as Amberstall milled about adjusting stirrups and checking hooves while five of his grooms reviewed the course set up before them. The exhibition would begin any minute now. He grinned and rapped his fingertips on the top rail of the fence in anticipation.
The partygoers were gathered beneath the shade of a tent as they sat sipping lemonade and chatting. He stood some twenty paces away to escape the murmurs containing his name. Where was Lily?
He glanced back toward the house in search of her, only to see her friend Miss Green disappear into the shrubbery beside the path. Were they together? But the question was answered in the next second when Lily stepped outside, making her way toward the exhibition grounds. The corners of his mouth twitched as he watched her move down the path with prim steps and a straight spine as if she’d never committed a crime in her life.
Turning back to the horses, he watched the movements of the animals. Had Lily been successful in her quest, Amberstall’s precious Shadow’s Light would be feeling the effects of the herbs about now. The horses were being lined up to begin their show. Hooves pawed the ground and heads tossed as they waited for the signal to begin.
They were well-trained, Devon would give them that. He suppressed the current twinge of guilt nagging at him with the fact that Amberstall was an arse who believed himself to be above most of the
ton
. The man’s father had thought much the same. He’d led the charge in proclaiming the loss of Devon’s father’s mind, driving him to prove society wrong and making him leave. His father had left on a mission to find his blasted lost civilization and hadn’t returned—not alive, at any rate. But Devon wouldn’t run from society’s taunts as his father had. He would meet them on the field of battle, as it were. He looked out across the field with a grim smile.
His mother had tried to mend the rift between the families by befriending Amberstall’s mother after the old earl’s death. Even now, they sat together waiting for the events to begin. She might be able to forgive society for what they’d done to his family, but he couldn’t. He shook himself from the harsh thoughts. Today wasn’t about any of that. This was about Lily. He wouldn’t simply look on as she linked herself to such an arrogant gentleman as Amberstall for the remainder of her life. She deserved better…and he deserved worse.
A shot was fired into the air and the horses were off. They took off across the field with Shadow’s Light in the lead. The wind whipped at his dark brown mane as the groom on his back leaned down, urging him forward. The hedgerow they were to jump loomed ahead.
The horses took the jump, soaring into the air. They hit the ground one by one in a thunder of hooves and a cloud of dust. Rounding a bend in the course, the riders guided the animals toward a section of fencing. One by one the horses sailed with precision over the obstacle.
Devon frowned as his hand balled into a fist on the fence post. He glanced across the field to Amberstall, who was already being congratulated by a few gathered lords. His eyes, however, never left his horses, watching them with single-minded focus.
Devon returned his attention to the show just as Shadow’s Light landed on the far side of a ditch that had been dug that morning and filled with water. His stride was perfect, too perfect.
It wasn’t working. His eyes narrowed on the row of advancing horses, willing his plan to come together.
There was only the one straightaway where the crowd was gathered and the final jump just before them. Shadow’s Light showed no signs of slowing. Why wasn’t the damiana he’d been given working?
Hadn’t Lily given the herb to the horse at one this afternoon? He was sure he’d seen her return from the stables at a quarter past one. The animal should be slowing, and yet the herb seemed to have no effect on the beast.
Perhaps she hadn’t fed it to him. Or she could have given it to a horse other than Shadow’s Light by mistake. This would be a rather predictable horse exhibition without the benefit of science on his side—and he would be left eating a great deal of crow. His brow furrowed as he watched, willing the horse to react.
Shadow’s Light was stretching forward, edging farther into the lead as he flew down the straightaway. Then, just before the final jump, he slowed with a toss of his head. Pulling back from the lead, he nudged into the gray mare at his side. The gray slowed, turning toward him to stop in the middle of the final run.
“Ah, young love,” Devon murmured as he worked to keep the grin from his face. Finally!
Soon three of the five horses were milling about in a fit of stomping hooves and playful nips. Devon chuckled. Now this event was going according to plan. One groom reined his horse in prior to the final jump to assist with the chaos on the track, while the other finished the course before turning back in confusion. None of the riders could control their mounts with Shadow’s Light at the center of the scene.
The tent filled with the partygoers began to buzz with chatter as Shadow’s Light pranced around the two mares on the track. Damiana—he grinned. He’d discovered the herb on his travels through the Caribbean. The natives there claimed it would entice reluctant ladies to find love. He’d never tried it for those purposes, but clearly it worked on horses. He shook his head. The animals in the exhibition were certainly showing themselves, yet not in the manner Amberstall had envisioned, he was quite certain.
Amberstall had now stormed out onto the course, bellowing commands. Stable hands were running from the far edges of the crowd to assist their master. And the noise from the crowd was growing.
“What is wrong with the mounts you idiots provided me?” Amberstall’s voice rose over the den of tittering coming from the tent.
“What have you done to my Shadow’s Light? What’s happened?” As he watched in clear horror, he cried out, “My prize racehorse!”
One of the stable hands reached out to steady the animal long enough for his rider to jump to the ground. “He appears to be in an amorous mood, m’lord.”
“Amorous? We’re in the middle of an exhibition!” Amberstall yelled as he pushed the groom to the side to get a closer look at the beast.
The stable hands were working to separate the animals who seemed intent on flirtation. Shadow’s Light finally shoved away from Amberstall to chase after the gray mare, the two disappearing beyond the corner of the stables. Men chased after them as Amberstall kicked at the ground with his boot, churning up a cloud of dust in his anger. Looking back at the crowd, he tried to grin, clearly aware of the audience witnessing the entire scene.