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glass vial containing a black emotion he’d never before experienced shattered, allowing that dark poison to surge through his veins. Hatred, hot and dangerous. If Lady Rose hadn’t been standing there, he was not certain he could have kept from launching himself at the duke and thrashing him within an inch of his life. As if sensing his thoughts, Weston gave Charlie a hard stare before leaving and Charlie stared right back.
    â€œCount yourself fortunate that you are not in my employ, boy.”
    â€œI do, sir, thank you.”
    The duke’s nostrils flared at the insult, but he left without another word.
    After the duke left, Charlie carefully placed the kitten back on the ground and stood beside Lady Rose as she watched the foal. She was a sweet little filly, already sturdy on her skinny legs.
    â€œMoonrise did well,” he said into the silence.
    When Lady Rose didn’t respond, he looked at her, dying a bit inside when he saw a tear trailing down one cheek. He’d never felt so helpless in his life.
    â€œCharlie.” She turned her head to him, her hands still clutching the stall, pain so clear in her eyes it hurt. She shook her head and looked back at the foal.
    â€œIs there something you wanted to say, my lady?”
    Her breath hitched and she shook her head again, swallowing fiercely, as if trying valiantly not to cry. God, he wanted to draw her into his arms, to take her pain away, to tell her she would be all right. For a moment, it appeared she couldn’t breathe at all, and then, in one swift movement, she launched herself against him, clutching at his shirt, her forehead pressed against his chest. “Oh, Charlie,” she cried, and began sobbing wetly against him as he stood there, arms akimbo, completely unsure what he should do.
    â€œI can’t, I can’t,” she said over and over, until Charlie couldn’t take it anymore. He put his hands on her shoulders, closing his eyes when he felt her slim body shaking with her cries.
    â€œShhh,” he said, not knowing what else he could say. He didn’t know precisely why she was crying, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the ass she was expected to marry.
    She pulled back slightly, her eyes and nose red from crying, and looked up at him, and it was all he could do not to bend his head and kiss away her tears. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick.
    â€œIt’s perfectly fine, my lady. I’m often called upon to comfort ladies who break into tears.”
    She let out a watery laugh; then her eyes filled again. This time, she stepped back, out of his arms, and brushed the tears away with her gloved hands. “I’m just being silly. Just tired from all the festivities.”
    She turned abruptly away to stare blindly at the foal, which was rooting around the hay curiously, its muzzle becoming covered with bits of straw.
    â€œMy lady,” Charlie said hesitantly. “Did something happen yesterday? Something . . . bad?”
    She stilled. “Whatever could you mean?” If she hadn’t looked so wretched, Charlie would have laughed aloud at her gallant attempt to pretend she hadn’t just been in his arms sobbing.
    â€œDid he hurt you?” Please say no. Please, God, say no .
    But she let out a small sob and Charlie thought he’d go mad from the rage coursing through him. And then, the blood drained from his face when he saw purplish marks on her neck. “You’re bruised,” he said, his voice shaking with a sickening combination of anger and horror.
    â€œAm I?”
    â€œYour neck. Jesus, like fingerprints. I’ll kill the bastard.”
    â€œNo, no, Charlie,” she said, turning toward him again, her eyes wide, desperate. “It wasn’t like that. He didn’t . . .”
    â€œHe sure as hell did something. And I saw what he was doing today, my lady. I saw.”
    â€œOh, God,” she cried, covering her eyes