nauseating enthusiasm for horses,” the Beau said with a shudder. “Informed me she loves to ride early in the morning, of all things. There we parted company. Myself, I cannot bear the beasts except to provide mobility for my carriage, and I consider any hour before noon fit only for domestics and Hottentots.”
“It appears Miss Haliburton and his grace have something in common beside an interest in ancient myths,” Edgar Rankin commented.
“Mr. Rankin alludes to my own preference for an early morning ride,” the duke said, noting Brummell’s puzzled expression. He smiled benignly at his helpful man-of-affairs. “If Miss Haliburton is such an ardent horsewoman, she must by all means avail herself of my stables whilst at Brynhaven. Send a footman to alert the head groom to have a mount ready for her at dawn—the dapple-gray mare sired by Windstorm, I think. And have a maid slip a note to that effect under the lady’s chamber door.”
Edgar Rankin’s mouth dropped open. “Tonight, your grace?”
“Tonight, Mr. Rankin.”
“Very well, your grace. And I shall request a groom be ready to accompany her, of course.”
“I think not, Mr. Rankin. She is perfectly safe as long as she is on Brynhaven property and she would have to ride several hours to cross its boundaries.” He idly twirled his brandy glass in his fingers. “And as I have recently been reminded, a companion for a companion is a bit superfluous.”
The duke drained his brandy and set the glass on the table at his elbow. “And now, gentlemen, I bid you goodnight. The hour grows late and for those of us who are not confirmed lay-abeds, the morning comes early.
On his way to his suite after the tête-à-tête in the library, the Duke of Montford congratulated himself on managing two rather clever maneuvers which made an otherwise depressing evening worthwhile.
First, he had gained a great deal of information from Edgar and Brummell about the unexpectedly intriguing Miss Haliburton, and then effectively silenced the questions he could see both those astute gentlemen were longing to ask about his. interest in the lady.
And second, he had had the foresight, before he’d faced her as the Duke of Montford, to remove the plain gold signet ring he had worn since the day he’d removed it from his dead grandfather ‘s finger. Replacing it with the gaudy bauble that had belonged to his tasteless, spendthrift of a father had truly been a stroke of genius.
CHAPTER FOUR
T he dapple-gray was the sweetest little goer Emily had ever ridden—swift as the wind with a stride so smooth, she found herself laughing aloud from the sheer joy of the ride. She would never be able to thank Mr. Rankin sufficiently for arranging this treat for her.
It had all been so unexpected. First the white envelope slipped beneath her chamber door during the night and then the footman standing by to escort her to the stables, where the gray stood saddled and waiting. Much as she hated to admit it, there were certain indisputable advantages to a life of privilege such as the duke’s household enjoyed.
She had taken the gray into a glorious full gallop across an open meadow, then slowed to a canter in a sparsely wooded area when she suddenly became aware of someone watching her from atop a gentle rise. Her heart leapt in her breast when she saw the horseman’s unruly black hair glistening in the morning sun, and an embarrassing rush of heat flooded her cheeks at the wicked gleam in his eyes when the magnificent stallion beneath him reared onto its hind legs at the sight of the little mare.
She urged the gray forward, but he edged his mount down the slope and cut her off.
“You’re a neck-or-nothing rider, I see, Miss Haliburton,” he said conversationally. “May I compliment you on your excellent seat?”
” I am a country woman, sir, and have ridden all my life,” she replied, but she felt inordinately pleased at the unexpected praise.
“And now you are trying
“It appears Miss Haliburton and his grace have something in common beside an interest in ancient myths,” Edgar Rankin commented.
“Mr. Rankin alludes to my own preference for an early morning ride,” the duke said, noting Brummell’s puzzled expression. He smiled benignly at his helpful man-of-affairs. “If Miss Haliburton is such an ardent horsewoman, she must by all means avail herself of my stables whilst at Brynhaven. Send a footman to alert the head groom to have a mount ready for her at dawn—the dapple-gray mare sired by Windstorm, I think. And have a maid slip a note to that effect under the lady’s chamber door.”
Edgar Rankin’s mouth dropped open. “Tonight, your grace?”
“Tonight, Mr. Rankin.”
“Very well, your grace. And I shall request a groom be ready to accompany her, of course.”
“I think not, Mr. Rankin. She is perfectly safe as long as she is on Brynhaven property and she would have to ride several hours to cross its boundaries.” He idly twirled his brandy glass in his fingers. “And as I have recently been reminded, a companion for a companion is a bit superfluous.”
The duke drained his brandy and set the glass on the table at his elbow. “And now, gentlemen, I bid you goodnight. The hour grows late and for those of us who are not confirmed lay-abeds, the morning comes early.
On his way to his suite after the tête-à-tête in the library, the Duke of Montford congratulated himself on managing two rather clever maneuvers which made an otherwise depressing evening worthwhile.
First, he had gained a great deal of information from Edgar and Brummell about the unexpectedly intriguing Miss Haliburton, and then effectively silenced the questions he could see both those astute gentlemen were longing to ask about his. interest in the lady.
And second, he had had the foresight, before he’d faced her as the Duke of Montford, to remove the plain gold signet ring he had worn since the day he’d removed it from his dead grandfather ‘s finger. Replacing it with the gaudy bauble that had belonged to his tasteless, spendthrift of a father had truly been a stroke of genius.
CHAPTER FOUR
T he dapple-gray was the sweetest little goer Emily had ever ridden—swift as the wind with a stride so smooth, she found herself laughing aloud from the sheer joy of the ride. She would never be able to thank Mr. Rankin sufficiently for arranging this treat for her.
It had all been so unexpected. First the white envelope slipped beneath her chamber door during the night and then the footman standing by to escort her to the stables, where the gray stood saddled and waiting. Much as she hated to admit it, there were certain indisputable advantages to a life of privilege such as the duke’s household enjoyed.
She had taken the gray into a glorious full gallop across an open meadow, then slowed to a canter in a sparsely wooded area when she suddenly became aware of someone watching her from atop a gentle rise. Her heart leapt in her breast when she saw the horseman’s unruly black hair glistening in the morning sun, and an embarrassing rush of heat flooded her cheeks at the wicked gleam in his eyes when the magnificent stallion beneath him reared onto its hind legs at the sight of the little mare.
She urged the gray forward, but he edged his mount down the slope and cut her off.
“You’re a neck-or-nothing rider, I see, Miss Haliburton,” he said conversationally. “May I compliment you on your excellent seat?”
” I am a country woman, sir, and have ridden all my life,” she replied, but she felt inordinately pleased at the unexpected praise.
“And now you are trying
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