brought near him, nor was it safe for the grooms
or anyone else to do more than feed him. True, Killer's groom, Carter, had
managed to get a lead on him and longe him around the paddock yesterday without
injury, but it had been touch and go.
Anthony glanced toward Nimbus's stall as they
passed it, but the horse was quiet at the moment. He and his friends all
mounted their hacks and headed off at a trot toward the meet, their grooms
following with their hunters. Killer, of course, would still be riding his
usual hunter, Firebolt.
"I'd recommend you stay well away from
Nimbus until Carter pronounces him safe," Anthony finally said, in as
neutral a tone as possible, so as not to ruffle his friend's pride.
Thor nodded. "Anthony's right. Remember,
I'm willing to take a stab at his training myself. I might even buy him off you
if he learns some manners."
"There's no need of that." Killer's
chin jutted out pugnaciously —a comical sight, but his friends managed not to
laugh. "I'll manage him well enough, you'll see. You'll all see."
Thor opened his mouth to argue, but Anthony
intercepted him with a quick shake of his head and the bigger man subsided with
a nod acknowledging that Anthony was right. Killer had a decided stubborn
streak, not to mention more pride than stature. More argument might prompt him
to do something foolish in an attempt to prove himself to his friends.
"What think you of that invitation we
received to Sir George Seaton's for tonight?" Stormy asked then, mainly to
change the subject, Anthony suspected. "Frightfully decent of the old
chap, I have to say."
"I'm surprised his daughter allowed
it," Rush said. "Did you notice how protective she was of her father
when we were there last week?"
Anthony had thought the same thing, but only
said, "I'd say Sir George is capable of making his own decisions. He
seemed to quite enjoy our talk of the hunt when we were there before. Surely he
must miss it, as avid a sportsman as he was before his injury."
The others nodded and rode on for a while in
silence, subdued by the thought of how it would feel never to be able to hunt
—or even ride— again. Anthony, however, was wondering just how Miss Seaton
figured into this invitation. Had she been behind it, or had it been sent over
her protests —or even without her knowledge? Perhaps he'd be able to tell, once
he saw her.
She hadn't been far from his thoughts since
Monday's meet, even though he had not seen her since. He'd rather hoped she
might appear at the Belvoir Hunt yesterday, but she had not. He hoped she was
not still sore from Monday . . .
They caught up with another knot of sportsmen
on their way to the Mountsorrel and he dragged his thoughts back to the
present. What was the matter with him? He had no business mooning over Miss
Seaton like some lovesick schoolboy. If anything, he should be angry at her for
the role she'd played in encouraging Killer to part with such an exorbitant sum
for that unmanageable hunter, Nimbus. He would say so, too, when next he saw
her— tonight at her father's house, if not before.
"Ah, perhaps now we'll see what that roan
mare is really capable of," Stormy exclaimed.
Anthony followed his glance and there she was,
arriving at the meet just as he and his friends did, from the opposite side of
the field. As before, she was accompanied by her uncle, and, as Anthony had
predicted on Monday, she was mounted on the very mare Emery had ridden that
day. Emery himself was riding a rangy brown gelding.
Though his every instinct urged him to ride
over to her at once, Anthony resisted, determined to first bring under control
the sudden acceleration of his heart and the inexplicable lift of his spirits.
That she should have such an effect on him, and from such a distance, struck
him as distinctly dangerous.
His hesitation, however, allowed several other
gentlemen —including Stormy —to approach her first, and in a moment she was
surrounded. Clearly, he was not the only one
or anyone else to do more than feed him. True, Killer's groom, Carter, had
managed to get a lead on him and longe him around the paddock yesterday without
injury, but it had been touch and go.
Anthony glanced toward Nimbus's stall as they
passed it, but the horse was quiet at the moment. He and his friends all
mounted their hacks and headed off at a trot toward the meet, their grooms
following with their hunters. Killer, of course, would still be riding his
usual hunter, Firebolt.
"I'd recommend you stay well away from
Nimbus until Carter pronounces him safe," Anthony finally said, in as
neutral a tone as possible, so as not to ruffle his friend's pride.
Thor nodded. "Anthony's right. Remember,
I'm willing to take a stab at his training myself. I might even buy him off you
if he learns some manners."
"There's no need of that." Killer's
chin jutted out pugnaciously —a comical sight, but his friends managed not to
laugh. "I'll manage him well enough, you'll see. You'll all see."
Thor opened his mouth to argue, but Anthony
intercepted him with a quick shake of his head and the bigger man subsided with
a nod acknowledging that Anthony was right. Killer had a decided stubborn
streak, not to mention more pride than stature. More argument might prompt him
to do something foolish in an attempt to prove himself to his friends.
"What think you of that invitation we
received to Sir George Seaton's for tonight?" Stormy asked then, mainly to
change the subject, Anthony suspected. "Frightfully decent of the old
chap, I have to say."
"I'm surprised his daughter allowed
it," Rush said. "Did you notice how protective she was of her father
when we were there last week?"
Anthony had thought the same thing, but only
said, "I'd say Sir George is capable of making his own decisions. He
seemed to quite enjoy our talk of the hunt when we were there before. Surely he
must miss it, as avid a sportsman as he was before his injury."
The others nodded and rode on for a while in
silence, subdued by the thought of how it would feel never to be able to hunt
—or even ride— again. Anthony, however, was wondering just how Miss Seaton
figured into this invitation. Had she been behind it, or had it been sent over
her protests —or even without her knowledge? Perhaps he'd be able to tell, once
he saw her.
She hadn't been far from his thoughts since
Monday's meet, even though he had not seen her since. He'd rather hoped she
might appear at the Belvoir Hunt yesterday, but she had not. He hoped she was
not still sore from Monday . . .
They caught up with another knot of sportsmen
on their way to the Mountsorrel and he dragged his thoughts back to the
present. What was the matter with him? He had no business mooning over Miss
Seaton like some lovesick schoolboy. If anything, he should be angry at her for
the role she'd played in encouraging Killer to part with such an exorbitant sum
for that unmanageable hunter, Nimbus. He would say so, too, when next he saw
her— tonight at her father's house, if not before.
"Ah, perhaps now we'll see what that roan
mare is really capable of," Stormy exclaimed.
Anthony followed his glance and there she was,
arriving at the meet just as he and his friends did, from the opposite side of
the field. As before, she was accompanied by her uncle, and, as Anthony had
predicted on Monday, she was mounted on the very mare Emery had ridden that
day. Emery himself was riding a rangy brown gelding.
Though his every instinct urged him to ride
over to her at once, Anthony resisted, determined to first bring under control
the sudden acceleration of his heart and the inexplicable lift of his spirits.
That she should have such an effect on him, and from such a distance, struck
him as distinctly dangerous.
His hesitation, however, allowed several other
gentlemen —including Stormy —to approach her first, and in a moment she was
surrounded. Clearly, he was not the only one
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