Read Online What Happens in Scotland by Jennifer McQuiston - Free Book Online

disparate quality. His chestnut stallion was one of the few things of value in his life, and he was usually quite careful with the animal. “Cairn’s, I should think.”
    But Caesar was not at Cairn’s, and that left only Morrison’s, a disreputable establishment on Bard Street characterized by weather-eaten wood and the distinctive odor of ammonia wafting out of the open stable door. A boy leaning against the wall of the derelict structure snapped to attention as they approached.
    “Mr. MacKenzie,” he said, “have you come for your horse?”
    James looked at the boy skeptically. Despite the young groom’s attentive response, this was clearly the sort of place that did not care much about appearances. The boy’s shirt was untucked and ripped along the lower edge, and his chin was smeared with dirt or something less palatable. To James’s mind, the cleanliness of the staff was a clear reflection of the condition of the stables.
    He did not know what had possessed him to board a fine piece of horseflesh overnight at Morrison’s Livery, any more than he knew what had possessed him to take to bed with a light-fingered doxy. Caesar had probably been fed moldy hay, or stabled next to a beast stricken with strangles. He would be lucky if the stallion didn’t colic over the course of the coming day.
    “Er . . . yes. Could you fetch him please?” James tapped an impatient boot in the dirt as the boy hesitated.
    The groom darted a nervous gaze between James and William. “Mr. Morrison said to have you settle the bill first.”
    That James apparently owed money here too should not have come as a surprise, but the reminder of what he could not pay stung. He was a man who prided himself on his self-sufficiency, and the thought of how deep in debt last night might have left him made him near break out in hives. “Just fetch my mount,” he said, “and I will settle my bill when I make sure he has been well cared for.”
    The boy took a cautious step toward the depths of a straw-strewn alleyway that ran parallel to the entrance to the stables. “Mr. Morrison will have my hide if you leave without paying for the damages,” he objected, his voice cracking under the weight of his competing obligations.
    James paused in mid-breath. “What damages? And where are you going?”
    The groom’s eyes focused somewhere in the vicinity of James’s boots, his eagerness suddenly more akin to nervousness. “The mews, out back. Had to tie your horse out there or risk my life.”
    “Tie him?” James objected. “Risk your life? Caesar? The horse is as gentle as a newborn calf. What kind of a groom can’t handle a well-trained horse?”
    The boy kicked at the dirt, his face as red as a gooseberry. “Your ‘gentle’ calf of a horse kicked out the back partition to the stables last night and tried to take a piece out of me, to boot.” He gestured to his tattered shirt, and suddenly James saw the boy’s dishevelment in a new light. “Never seen a horse so ill-tempered,” he added. “Was a terror since the moment you dropped it here. Mr. Morrison says it will cost you too.”
    “How much?” James asked through clenched teeth.
    “One pound, four pence.” The boy sounded almost frightened to admit to such a fee, as well he should be. Caesar was a famously even-tempered stallion, a thick-boned mount that could take a fence with ease and was the envy of half the town. The idea that such a horse could turn this place on its head and make an adolescent groom cower was ludicrous. James was beginning to suspect the entire bloody town was either conspiring on how to separate him from his savings, or else having a good laugh behind his back. Neither would get him any closer to London.
    James shuffled the corset from one arm to the other, and stretched his free hand toward his pocket, searching for the ivory cuff links he had felt there earlier. The groom’s eyes narrowed on the corset. “Mr. Morrison dinna say anything about taking