all, wouldn't you say?" he asked his friends.
"Aye," Thor agreed. "I've known
more than one valuable stallion that was gelded because he was too vicious to
breed."
"Nimbus didn't show any sign of
viciousness today," Killer pointed out defensively. "If that's why he
was gelded, I'd say it worked."
"Perhaps so," Anthony said with a
shrug.
"Let's go in to dinner, shall we?"
Stormy urged. "We can continue this discussion while we eat."
As they were all hungry, this suggestion met
with no resistance.
"—still say it's dashed odd," Sir
Brian Olney was saying as Anthony took his seat next to the man at one of the
long tables in the dining room. "Why is it no one had ever heard of her
before today?"
"Porrington claims her mother was daughter
to old Seaton's horse trainer," said John Bingle from across the table.
"Word is, when his son, the current baronet, married her, the old man cast
them off— then died a year later. Seaton's kept the girl close on the estate
all her life."
"Can't think why," Sir Brian said,
shaking his head. "Nothing to hide there, from what I could see. Quite a
tempting morsel, in fact, even apart from her riding."
Anthony deliberately took a large helping of
roast beef before speaking. "Bear in mind that the lady's uncle is here in
this room. You wouldn't want to provoke any sort of— incident —by speaking too
freely about his niece."
The thought of Mercer Emery challenging a
Meltonian over Miss Seaton's honor was laughable, but Anthony's goal was to
stop such talk before it went too far. Miss Seaton wasn't his responsibility,
of course, but he couldn't help admiring her pluck. He had no desire to see her
suffer for it by having her name dragged through the Melton gutters by men like
Porrington.
"No, no, of course not," Sir Brian
said, glancing about with mild alarm. He was almost as unlikely a duellist as
Emery. "Just curious, you know, as we all are."
Rush followed Anthony's lead. "Pretty and
intriguing as Miss Seaton is, I confess myself more interested in the hunter
she rode today. Mr. Emery tells us his sire was Equity."
That successfully diverted the conversation to
horseflesh, and discussions of bloodlines and past hunts and races lasted for
the rest of the meal.
After dinner, as the wine was passed round
again, attention turned to business— specifically, the sale of horses ridden
that day. The tables were cleared away and the men moved about to question each
other on the various points of their mounts. Killer, of course, made a beeline
for Emery, with the rest of the Odd Sock Club behind him.
As before dinner, several gentlemen were asking
about Nimbus and receiving the same answers Anthony had earlier. The bidding
floor was established at five hundred pounds, but it was clear that the horse
would go for far more than that.
After listening for a few minutes, Stormy spoke
up. "What about the roan mare you rode today, Mr. Emery? Surely you'll
start her bidding a deal lower than that?"
Mr. Emery glanced sharply at him, then smiled.
"She's not up for sale tonight," he said, "though she'll be
available soon, perhaps even by the end of the week."
Stormy looked disappointed. "Not for any
price?"
"That depends," Emery said with a
raised brow. "What are you prepared to offer?"
"I didn't see her take any fences, so I
was thinking something on the order of two hundred pounds." A few nods
indicated that others thought this a fair offer.
"I'm sorry," Emery replied. "As
I said, I'm not authorized to sell her tonight, though of course I'll mention
your offer to Sir George. Yes, sir, you had a question about Nimbus?" he
said, turning to someone else.
Anthony pretended to listen, but his thoughts
had taken another path. "By the end of the week," Emery had said.
He'd be willing to lay odds that Tessa Seaton would be riding that roan mare in
an upcoming meet— after which Emery would be able to ask far more than two
hundred pounds.
* *
*
"Twelve hundred pounds?" Tessa echoed
in
"Aye," Thor agreed. "I've known
more than one valuable stallion that was gelded because he was too vicious to
breed."
"Nimbus didn't show any sign of
viciousness today," Killer pointed out defensively. "If that's why he
was gelded, I'd say it worked."
"Perhaps so," Anthony said with a
shrug.
"Let's go in to dinner, shall we?"
Stormy urged. "We can continue this discussion while we eat."
As they were all hungry, this suggestion met
with no resistance.
"—still say it's dashed odd," Sir
Brian Olney was saying as Anthony took his seat next to the man at one of the
long tables in the dining room. "Why is it no one had ever heard of her
before today?"
"Porrington claims her mother was daughter
to old Seaton's horse trainer," said John Bingle from across the table.
"Word is, when his son, the current baronet, married her, the old man cast
them off— then died a year later. Seaton's kept the girl close on the estate
all her life."
"Can't think why," Sir Brian said,
shaking his head. "Nothing to hide there, from what I could see. Quite a
tempting morsel, in fact, even apart from her riding."
Anthony deliberately took a large helping of
roast beef before speaking. "Bear in mind that the lady's uncle is here in
this room. You wouldn't want to provoke any sort of— incident —by speaking too
freely about his niece."
The thought of Mercer Emery challenging a
Meltonian over Miss Seaton's honor was laughable, but Anthony's goal was to
stop such talk before it went too far. Miss Seaton wasn't his responsibility,
of course, but he couldn't help admiring her pluck. He had no desire to see her
suffer for it by having her name dragged through the Melton gutters by men like
Porrington.
"No, no, of course not," Sir Brian
said, glancing about with mild alarm. He was almost as unlikely a duellist as
Emery. "Just curious, you know, as we all are."
Rush followed Anthony's lead. "Pretty and
intriguing as Miss Seaton is, I confess myself more interested in the hunter
she rode today. Mr. Emery tells us his sire was Equity."
That successfully diverted the conversation to
horseflesh, and discussions of bloodlines and past hunts and races lasted for
the rest of the meal.
After dinner, as the wine was passed round
again, attention turned to business— specifically, the sale of horses ridden
that day. The tables were cleared away and the men moved about to question each
other on the various points of their mounts. Killer, of course, made a beeline
for Emery, with the rest of the Odd Sock Club behind him.
As before dinner, several gentlemen were asking
about Nimbus and receiving the same answers Anthony had earlier. The bidding
floor was established at five hundred pounds, but it was clear that the horse
would go for far more than that.
After listening for a few minutes, Stormy spoke
up. "What about the roan mare you rode today, Mr. Emery? Surely you'll
start her bidding a deal lower than that?"
Mr. Emery glanced sharply at him, then smiled.
"She's not up for sale tonight," he said, "though she'll be
available soon, perhaps even by the end of the week."
Stormy looked disappointed. "Not for any
price?"
"That depends," Emery said with a
raised brow. "What are you prepared to offer?"
"I didn't see her take any fences, so I
was thinking something on the order of two hundred pounds." A few nods
indicated that others thought this a fair offer.
"I'm sorry," Emery replied. "As
I said, I'm not authorized to sell her tonight, though of course I'll mention
your offer to Sir George. Yes, sir, you had a question about Nimbus?" he
said, turning to someone else.
Anthony pretended to listen, but his thoughts
had taken another path. "By the end of the week," Emery had said.
He'd be willing to lay odds that Tessa Seaton would be riding that roan mare in
an upcoming meet— after which Emery would be able to ask far more than two
hundred pounds.
* *
*
"Twelve hundred pounds?" Tessa echoed
in
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