To Win the Lady (5 page)

‘Why sir,’ she
said, throwing a breeches-clad leg over the saddle and sliding to the ground,
‘I did not think your appearance so very out of the ordinary. If you had two
heads, then Warrior could be forgiven for taking fright, but an ordinary man on
a very ordinary horse - what is that to fly into the tree-tops about?’ She was
aware as she spoke that he was not in the least ordinary. For a start, he was a
very big man, tall and broad-shouldered, and his features had a ruggedness
which in no way detracted from his good looks; his jaw was clear-cut and his
mouth firm. ‘Did you ride down here especially to ring a peal over me? For I
can tell you the lane is private property...’

‘I would not
have wasted my time on such a fruitless exercise, ma’am,’ he retorted stiffly,
‘had I not needed to come on business.’

‘Oh.’ She
handed Warrior’s reins to Dawson who had been listening to the exchange with
something like glee. ‘Have him rubbed down and when he’s cooled you can give
him a good dinner; he’s earned it.’ She cast a cursory glance at Richard’s
hired hack before turning to face him, aware that he was much taller than she
was and she was tilting her head up towards him - a most unusual occurrence. ‘I
am sorry, sir, we seem to have begun on the wrong foot. I’m Georgiana Paget.
What can I do for you?’

He grasped the
hand, though he was unsure whether to shake it or convey it to his lips. ‘Miss
Paget, your obedient servant. Am I to understand that you are the new owner of
Rowan Park?’

‘Yes,’ she
said, unable to avert her gaze from his dark eyes which seemed to be looking
into hers as if they could perceive the uncertainty there.

‘I need a good
hunter,’ he said, releasing her hand and breaking a spell which had lasted only
seconds but which, to Georgie, had seemed like minutes. ‘The one on which you
nearly rode me down would be just the thing.’

She was about
to protest that she had come nowhere near riding him down, but stopped herself
with a laugh which sounded empty to her own ears. ‘Mayhap it would, but Warrior
is not for sale, and certainly he would not do for you.’

‘How do you
know that?’

‘Simply by
looking at the animal you are riding. I never saw such an apology for a horse
in my life; it is definitely dishing. And you are far too heavy for it.’

He turned to
look at it and grinned ruefully; she was right but he would not give her the satisfaction
of telling her so. ‘That is no excuse for terrifying him and me along with him.
And you must allow me to be the judge of what will do for me, madam. Pray ask
whoever is in charge of this establishment to show me what there is on offer.’

‘I am persuaded
it would take more than that to terrify you, sir,’ she said, watching his face
for his reaction, ready to fly into the boughs the minute he exhibited any
reluctance to deal with her. ‘I will show you what we have if you tell me what
you have in mind.’

‘Another like
Victor,’ he said, deciding to humour her. When she found herself out of her
depth, she would have to call her guardian or manager or whoever now looked
after her affairs. He admired her spirit, though what she hoped to gain by this
delaying tactic he did not know.

‘Victor? You
mean Bucephalus’s colt out of Winning Streak? I collect he was bought by a
cavalry officer. Viscount Dullingham’s son, I believe.’

He grinned and
gave a mock-bow. ‘Major Richard Baverstock at your service, ma’am. You have a
good memory.’

‘I know the
lineage of all our horses, Major, and where they went. What happened to
Victor?’

‘He has been
acquired by Lord Cedric Barbour and I need a replacement.’

Georgiana felt
unaccountably angry with the young man for parting with Warrior’s half-brother
but glad that the brave horse had not died in battle as so many others had
done. Perhaps, as a returning soldier, his pockets were to let and he had been
forced to part with him but, in that case, he could hardly afford to replace
the stallion with anything like the same quality.

‘Come with me,’
she told him, and led him past the main stable-block to the paddock, where
several horses grazed. ‘Take your pick,’ she said. ‘They are all prime
animals.’

‘I said a
replacement for Victor, not a mount for a gentle hack in the country,’ he said,
hardly sparing them a glance. ‘It is obvious you do not know the difference and
I would do better to take my custom to someone who can appreciate my
requirements.’

‘That, sir, is
your prerogative,’ she said, then, remembering that pride did not put money
into the household coffers and would not pay for Felicity’s come-out, relented.
‘I am sorry, Major Baverstock; I had thought the best might be above your
touch. Please come with me and I will endeavour to find something that will
suit.’

She led the way
across the yard and into another enclosure which was surrounded on three sides
by loose boxes. Horses looked out over open doors and he was forced to admit
that they seemed alert and interested in what was going on about them. On the
fourth side was a small parade ring where a young groom was patiently lunging a
strawberry roan on a very long rein, round and round, getting the young colt
used to obeying the pressure on its mouth. Richard noted that the commands to
go left or right were gentle and that the animal did not seem distressed,
before turning his attention back to Miss Paget who was leading a stallion from
the first of the boxes.

‘This is
Paget’s Pegasus,’ she said. ‘Sired by a half-brother of Bucephalus. His dam was
one of Eclipse’s granddaughters.’

It was a
beautiful grey, nearly seventeen hands, not quite up to Victor or the horse she
had been riding, but it was well-proportioned, with good sloping shoulders, a
shortish back, powerful hindquarters and a good depth in the girth. He observed
it from a little distance before approaching it quietly and walking slowly
round it, feeling the tendons in its legs and looking into its eyes and mouth.
Its good breeding was obvious and it looked well-groomed, but only a horse
trained, fed and exercised properly would have the speed and stamina he
required. With Sir Henry gone, had the stables kept up to the mark?

‘Four-year-old?’
he queried, patting the horse’s neck.

‘Yes, not quite
in his prime, but on the way to becoming a good goer. My father bought him as a
two year-old and brought him on to ride himself. He turned down several offers
for him.’

He was aware of
a wistful note in her voice and found himself suddenly feeling sorry for her -
and that would not do at all. He thought he could guess at her character well
enough to know that she would hate that. ‘As good a recommendation as any,’ he
said. ‘Sir Henry would ride only the best. But why sell him? Do you not want
him to...?’ He stopped suddenly, remembering that for all her male garb she was
a lady and he ought not to offend her sensibilities by speaking of breeding.

‘Put him to
stud?’ she queried, laughing.

‘Yes. Why not?’

‘I have. He
sires good solid workaday horses, but they are not outstanding, in spite of his
pedigree.’

‘Surely it is
good solid workaday horses which are the bread and butter of the stable? The
outstanding ones provide the cake.’

‘Do you want to
buy him or not?’ she asked, made uncomfortable by his questions. It would not
do for it to become known how low in funds she was. The only way to keep the
stables going was to sell some of her stock, but even that was not easy when so
few customers came to Rowan Park since her father died. She had sent one or two
horses to Tattersalls but she hated doing that because, apart from the fact
that he took a percentage - which he had every right to do - it made people
wonder why she was obliged to do it. And selling stock was not the long-term
answer or she would have nothing left. And, looking up at this big handsome
man, she knew he could read her thoughts as if they were written on her
forehead and she did not like the feeling at all.

‘I should like
to ride him out. May I?’

‘Of course. You
will find him a little frisky: he hasn’t been out today.’

His saddle was
transferred from the hired hack while Georgie ordered a fresh mount to be
saddled for her and they set off for the gallops at a smart trot which soon
became a canter as the horses warmed up. She was right - Pegasus was spirited
and anxious to have his head, but Richard held him in check for a couple of
miles before he allowed him to gallop, and when he did let him go the stallion
moved freely and had an easy, ground-covering stride. Half an hour later, they
drew up at the boundary fence at the limit of the estate.

‘Well?’ Georgie
asked, pushing back a tendril of hair from her cheek. ‘What do you think?’

‘Not Victor, of
course, but a sweet goer and well up on the wind.’ They turned and walked the
horses side by side towards the distant buildings of Rowan Park. ‘Are you sure
you will not sell Grecian Warrior instead?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then Pegasus
will do me very well. Let us go back and you can take me to your man of
business.’

She laughed. ‘There
is no such creature. I strike the bargains at Rowan Stud, Major Baverstock.’

He turned to
look at her. Her cheeks were pink, her hair wind-blown and the hands that held
the reins so easily were brown and work-worn. What in God’s name had her father
been thinking of to allow her to become such a hoyden? If he had any sense he
would not encourage her by doing business with her, but he doubted he would
find a better mount and no doubt she was in need of the money. But if she were
not very careful she would soon lose the whole farm. He wondered idly if it
would go piecemeal or as one lot and then found himself wishing she might
succeed in spite of everything.

‘Very well,’ he
said. ‘Name your price.’

Before another
hour had passed, Richard was forced to admit that Georgiana Paget knew more
than most men about horses and she was also a hard-headed business woman. When
he left he had paid top price for his hunter, had agreed to give her exclusive
stud rights for the next five years and, besides that, had acquired, at an
astronomical price, a superb two-year-old filly called Bright Star, with which
he had an idea that he might be able to revenge himself on Lord Barbour.
Leading his hired hack, he rode away on the grey, leaving the filly with Miss
Paget. He did not want to take delivery of it and advertise its presence in the
Baverstock stables until he was ready, and against his better judgement he had
allowed her to persuade him to let her train it.

He didn’t know
how that had happened; he was not usually swayed by female guile. But in truth
there had been no guile; she had simply stated that she knew what she was about
and he had believed her! What a flat he had been! He all but turned round and
went back, but knew that would make him feel even more foolish. He might as
well give her a chance; her man, Dawson, whom he knew to be very knowledgeable,
would keep her on the right track and he would go back in a couple of weeks and
take the filly to a reputable trainer. He would race it against Barbour’s best
and this time he would not lose.

But he reckoned
without Miss Georgiana Paget.

She was elated.
Dawson, who had been witness to the transaction, was grinning from ear to ear.

‘Well done,
Miss Paget,’ he said as soon as the man and horses had disappeared. ‘You are
your father’s daughter and no error. But do you know what you have taken on
with that filly?’

Did she? It was
one thing to watch her father at work and listen to his theorising, quite
another to put it into practice, but the opportunity had been too good to miss.
Not that she hadn’t nearly sunk it at the start. Fancy assuming that just
because a man rode a hired hack he knew nothing! She should have taken note of
his buckskin breeches and well-tailored riding coat, not to mention the
top-boots! Only an experienced servant could have put the shine on those. And
the hack had sported a beautiful military saddle.

But she had
seen none of that at the time because she had been overwhelmed by the man
himself, like a silly miss at her first coming-out ball. Anyone would think she
had never beheld a man before. And that was patently untrue because there were
always men visiting the stables - or had been when her father was alive. All
manner of men, too - old and young, fat and thin, greedy men, easygoing men who
thought nothing of losing a thousand guineas on a wager, desperate men selling
their horses to pay their debts, cits and mushrooms, farmers and aristocrats
and, in the old days, royalty.

When she was
small they had patted her head patronisingly and said what a knowing little
miss she was, but when she had grown tall, taller than most of them, they had
treated her with polite indifference. And since her father’s death all but a
few had stopped coming. She knew it was because she was a woman, and women were
certainly not considered capable of horse-trading, not even in workaday farm
animals and carriage horses and certainly not in hunters and racehorses, which
were the main stock-in-trade of the farm. And as for training a racehorse, that
was lunacy. She had to prove she could do it and Major Baverstock had given her
the chance. Did he know what a gamble he was taking? she wondered.