Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (19 page)

“Mr. Tarrant said that horse is to be kept for Miss Elizabeth to ride,” the groom said doggedly.

“Oh, did he? And has Miss Elizabeth ever done so?”

“No, miss, but Mr. Tarrant said that gelding were most likely the best-trained for a lady. He said we wasn’t to let no one else ride it, only her.”

“Shadow Dancer,” Charley said grimly, “is my horse, not Mr. Tarrant’s. He is mine now, and he will always be mine, for my grandfather left me my choice of the horses in his stables. Moreover, if you let Miss Elizabeth try to ride him, you’ll soon see how well trained he is. For that matter,
you
try to ride him. My horses accept no rider but me without a command to the contrary, so do as I bid you, and fetch him out. The Lady Letitia’s chestnut mare, as well,” she added. “She will be joining me.”

“It’d be as much as my place is worth, miss. I dassn’t!”

“What is the trouble here?”

Charley jumped at hearing Sir Antony’s voice so near. Turning, she saw him standing in the stable doorway with Letty beside him, both dressed for riding.

“This dolt,” she said, “refuses to saddle my horse or Letty’s, and I don’t know what’s become of either of our grooms. Alfred gave a lot of stupid orders the day we rode to Seacourt Head, and I haven’t ridden since then. I forgot about them.”

“That’s right, sir,” the groom said. “The master gave orders that—”

“When I want to hear from you,” Sir Antony cut in, “I will inform you of it.”

“Yes, sir.” Flushing, he looked at his feet.

“Does this man know which horse you prefer, Miss Charlotte?”

“He does, although he informs me that Alfred has declared that Shadow Dancer must now be reserved for Elizabeth,” Charley added testily.

Letty chuckled. “I wish I may see her ride him.”

Her amusement eased Charley’s irritation. “It would be a sight.”

“And Lady Letitia’s mount,” Sir Antony interjected. “Does he know it as well?”

“He does. The chestnut mare in the stall next to Shadow Dancer.”

“Then I quite fail to see any problem.” Sir Antony raised his quizzing glass and peered through it at the groom.

“Please, sir,” the lad begged, shifting his feet uneasily, “I’ve got my orders.”

“Miss Charlotte has countermanded them,” Sir Antony said, speaking very softly. “You will saddle her horse, you will saddle the buttermilk mare for me, and you will saddle Lady Letitia’s mare. You will do all that right speedily and without any more backchat. Furthermore, when you receive orders from any member of the family, or any guest, you will do your best to carry them out. Is that clear?”

“Aye, sir, but what am I to tell the master?”

“I don’t much care what you tell him,” Sir Antony murmured, taking a snowy handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and using it to polish his quizzing glass. The groom hesitated. Glancing at him again, Sir Antony said with a sigh, “‘Duller must thou be than a fat weed.’”

“Sir, the master—”

“You know, I should dislike very much being put to the task of teaching you respect for your betters, but if you do not fetch those horses …” Letting his words trail ominously to silence, he returned the handkerchief to his pocket, shot the wavering groom a stern look, then added in quite a different tone, “At once, you egregious ass!”

Turning pale, the groom said, “Aye, sir.” And with a tug of his forelock, he fled.

“He has probably run to complain to his odious master,” Charley said bitterly.

“I doubt that,” Sir Antony replied.

“Egregious ass?”

“I rather liked the ring of that, myself.”

Antony saw from her expression that she still was not convinced the groom would obey him, but the lad soon returned with two others, and they quickly saddled the three horses. Miss Tarrant remained uncharacteristically silent, as did the child, and Antony felt a strong desire to teach both the obstreperous groom and his master a lesson in courtesy. Such tactics did not suit the role he was playing, however, so as much as the exercise might relieve his temper, he could not afford to indulge himself.

He continued to watch Miss Tarrant, his eyelids half-closed so that she would not too quickly become aware of his scrutiny. Anger had put fire in her cheeks, and her dark eyes showed lingering sparks. Admirable. She was a beauty, and no mistake, but she seemed unconcerned with her looks. Since she was old enough to have enjoyed a number of London seasons, and since she had also spent time with the diplomatic and aristocratic sets in Paris, he knew she must be aware of her charms. He could not imagine her entering a room without every eye instantly turning her way.

He watched her approach the black roan. It pranced and tossed its long mane in evident delight, then nuzzled her shoulder and bosom in a familiar way that made Antony wish he could exchange roles for just a moment or two. Collecting himself, he stepped forward, intending to give her a leg up. To his astonishment, the roan knelt, the chit put a foot in the stirrup, and as the horse rose again, she arranged herself with such speed and dispatch that he knew she had done so many times before.

Letty had been watching him and when he caught her eye, she grinned at him and said, “Is Dancer not clever, sir? He is descended from a stallion my papa owned for many years, but in fact, all of Cousin Charley’s horses are trained to kneel. That way a lady can mount without a block.”

“Very sensible,” Antony said, lifting the child to her saddle before the groom could do so. “What other tricks has she taught them?”

He glanced at Miss Tarrant, hoping his provocative tone might draw her into their conversation, but she was still silent, her lips pressed together. Clearly, the lady still bore some resentment at having her will crossed.

Letty’s voice reminded him that he had asked her a question, but as they rode into the sunlight, he caught only the end of her reply. “… all manner of things,” she said, “even to stop still when she makes a certain sound.”

“She can make a horse stop on command?” This time he caught Miss Tarrant’s gaze, but although she looked steadily back at him, she did not speak.

“Oh, yes,” Letty said, “and many other things as well.”

Goaded now, determined to get a rise, Antony said as they left the stable yard and turned toward the moor, “It is a good thing I brought Annabelle with me. I daresay that if I were riding one of Miss Tarrant’s horses, and she became vexed with me, she would crook her little finger and I’d find myself flat on the ground. A dreadful blow to one’s dignity, don’t you agree?”

Letty laughed. “Do you think you would land on your
dignity,
sir?”

Even Miss Tarrant’s eyes were twinkling now, but she still seemed reluctant to release her resentment altogether.

Looking from one to the other, Letty said, “May I gallop, Cousin Charley?”

“If you promise to keep a sharp eye on the road.”

“I will.” Eagerly, the child urged her mare forward.

Guiding Annabelle in beside the black roan, Antony said, “Have you recovered yet,
mon ange?”

She shot him an oblique look. “Recovered?”

“From the sulks.”

“I do not sulk!”

“Forgive me. I quite thought you were indulging yourself, but if you say you were not, I will not contradict you. As young Letty so wisely pointed out to me some time ago, a gentleman does not contradict a lady, even when she is wrong.”

She shot him another look. “Is this your notion of how to tease me into a better humor? Because if it is, you might as well spare your breath. I don’t believe in acting as if I feel one way when I feel another. If you don’t approve, perhaps you would prefer to ride alone. I don’t recall inviting you to come with us, in any event.”

He was silent for a moment, considering his reply. Then he said evenly, “First, I don’t exert myself to tease spoiled children out of the sulks, whatever their habits of courtesy or the lack may be. Second, I don’t think it would be kind to let you return to the stable without an escort. Being subjected to another of Alfred’s blustery tirades would not hurt you, but I cannot think Letty deserves to suffer the consequences of your actions yet again, through no fault of her own.”

She did not reply at once, and he saw that she nibbled her lower lip thoughtfully. Imminently kissable, those lips, he thought, the way they looked firm and shapely one moment, soft and vulnerable the next.

“I’m sorry I was rude to you,” she said, surprising him.

Shifting his gaze swiftly to her eyes, he expected to meet with irony or mockery. Instead, she looked anxious, almost childlike, and sincere. He smiled. “I had begun to feel sorry for Rockland, but now I don’t think I’m sorry for him at all.”

She relaxed. “I suppose you felt sorry for him because he does not set his will against mine. He knows better than to do so, I expect, but I daresay he rarely has the impulse. He is lazy, sir, and prefers not to make decisions. I think he truly enjoys obliging people, if only he knows what they want him to do.”

“He must be a joy to his family,” Antony said.

“I don’t know much about them,” she said. “His father is long deceased, I believe, and his mama lives retired somewhere in Somerset, and never goes to town.”

“But if you intend to marry the man, surely—”

“Oh, good mercy, surely you must know that I agreed to marry him because it was that or living under Alfred’s thumb forever. Females of any sort have few choices in this world, sir. Impecunious females have none. If we do not marry, we must depend on more fortunate relations to support us. At least by marrying I shall have some small independence.”

“And so you mean to marry a fool who will let you rule the roast.”

She shot him an angry glare. “Do you think I will make him unhappy? I promise you I won’t, and if I had any doubts before, this morning’s little ordeal put them to flight. I’m not accustomed to servants questioning my orders, and I do not intend to suffer longer than necessary in a household where they do so.”

“I don’t think you are accustomed to seeing your will crossed by anyone,
mon ange,”
Antony murmured.

“Don’t call me that. It is most improper.”

“Ah, but you see,” he replied, “I am not in the habit of asking permission for what I do, any more than you are.”

Before she could retort, they heard a shout from Letty and saw her riding toward them at a gallop. At the same time, they heard barking behind them.

Reining in, they turned, and seeing the shaggy black and white dog hurtling toward them in full cry, Antony sighed with exasperation and said, “There is one who does not give a click of his toenails for my will and consent. Yes, Sebastian,” he added as the dog leapt excitedly around Annabelle’s legs, making the mare twitch its ears nervously. “I can see that you are delighted to have found me again, but much as I wish I could share your delight, you are quite out of place in the image I wish to project.”

C
HARLEY CHUCKLED AT SIR
Antony’s dismay, and Letty, reining in alongside of them, laughed and said, “I saw him coming, sir. I have been meaning to ask what you had done with him, but I forgot.”

“Sebastian, down,” Sir Antony said firmly. The dog ceased leaping and barking, but its tail wagged furiously.

Charley said, “It is clear to the meanest intelligence that he worships you. Where did you leave him when you came to Tuscombe Park?”

Sir Antony sighed. “My man, Hodson, said he had found a family willing to keep him. Clearly he was mistaken, but what am I to do with Sebastian now? Did you not say that Alfred was with you when I rescued him?”

“I did,” Charley agreed. “Still, I doubt if he would remember, for he has not seen Sebastian since, and there is—if he will forgive my saying so—nothing particularly memorable about him. Cousin Alfred saw him only when he was dripping wet, too, and he looks as if he’s been brushed and well fed in the meantime. I daresay that if Sebastian will consent to live in the stable, no one will pay him any heed. There are lots of dogs at Tuscombe Park. Cousin Alfred cannot know them all.”

Letty said doubtfully, “But the others will not exhibit such delight in Sir Antony’s company, you know. If Sebastian follows you into the house, sir, Cousin Edythe won’t like it. She doesn’t hold with animals indoors.”

“That explains why I have not seen Jeremiah,” he said. “I did not like to ask.”

“He stays in my room unless I take him outside,” she said.

“That settles it; I shall teach Sebastian to be a lap dog,” Sir Antony said, smiling at her. “I detest that woman.”

“We do, too,” Letty said. “Don’t we, Cousin Charley?”

“We do, absolutely,” Charley said. “Although I’ve got the most lowering notion that neither your mama nor your papa would want me to encourage such disrespectful comments from you, young lady.”

“No, ma’am.”

They looked at each other and grinned.

Sir Antony said sourly, “I cannot think you are providing a good example for this impressionable child, Miss Tarrant.”

“Very likely not,” Charley agreed with a rueful sigh, “but her parents have both known me for a very long time, so they will understand, I hope.”

He smiled at her. “May I ask where we are going?”

She had turned her horse away from the road, onto the open moor. Grinning back at him, she said, “I mean to have a gallop. Then we are going to chat with some of Grandpapa’s tenants to see what we can discover about plots.” Seeing him glance quickly at Letty, she added, “She knows as much as I do, for I told her. I’m sorry if you are vexed, but she spends most of her time with me, you see, and I could not imagine how to go about talking to people without confiding in her.”

“If you’d rather not trust me,” Letty said in a small, dignified voice, “I shall quite understand, sir.”

To Charley’s relief, he looked amused and said, “I believe I can trust you with my life, Lady Letitia. If the whole truth were known, I daresay you’ve already learned one or two diplomatic secrets that you would never divulge to a soul.”

She nodded, her expression serious. “My papa explained when I was very young that it is obligatory never to reveal to others what one learns by overhearing conversations at the embassy. Since I do not always remember whether I was asked to keep silent or not, I just don’t speak of matters that affect other people.”