“Do you plan to take Isabelle shopping?” Anna asked. Her eyes glistened with mischief.
He smiled. Michael had expected nothing less from his sister. They enjoyed teasing each other; he would give her no quarter when she courted. “Yes. I am. Would you like to come along?”
“Of course not!” she whispered. “I would not want to be the reason you break this betrothal, dear brother. She is perfect for you!”
He started at her words. Anna knew him too well. He shouldn’t be stunned by that, but he was. And she was right . . . or used to be. The more he got to know Isabelle, the more he wanted to know more. He wasn’t trying to get rid of the betrothal. He wanted to help her, so he wouldn’t have to call off their betrothal. Michael looked up at his sister, who sat across from him with a cockeyed grin on her face and nodded. “I fear you are right. She is an amazing woman, and we enjoy each other’s company.”
“She prefers quiet endeavors, and she is an amiable person to be around. But she doesn’t involve herself in Society events. Perhaps someone hurt her. I don’t know,” Anna said, taking a sip of her chocolate. “Don’t mess this up, dearest brother.”
“You have given me much to think about,” he said, winking at his sister.
“What will you be thinking about, son?” his mother asked.
He had momentarily forgotten Mother was still sitting with them.
“She is a good girl. Much quieter than I recall her being as a small child. When her brother disappeared, things changed for the family,” the duchess said quietly. “Your father liked her.”
Michael stood. “I will leave you lovely ladies to your reading material.” He nodded at the London gossip sheet his mother held. “Perhaps we will run into you in town.”
As his coach drew closer to Isabelle’s home, Michael mulled over the things his mother and sister had mentioned to him. He had been honest with Anna. While he was still unsure of the depth of his feelings for Isabelle, Michael realized that feelings were beginning to develop, and he wanted to give their betrothal a fair chance. Tapping his chest, he felt inside his jacket pocket and withdrew a small black box. When he opened it, diamonds and amethysts encased in gold winked back at him.
Michael’s coach pulled into the Griffith property and trundled toward the stable. Oliver had arranged for him to meet Peter and the stable hands. At Michael’s request, Oliver was to downplay the whole thing. He tapped the roof. “Danson, we can stop here, he said out of the window.” His driver pulled his coach into a sunny spot alongside the stable. Peter and Oliver met him.
“Welcome, Your Grace. The horse Oliver inquired about is in the back stall,” Peter said. “The stable hand was going back to brush him when you arrived. You may find him back there.”
“Thank you. I’d like to look at him,” Michael said, walking toward the stall and running through a myriad of excuses in his head forwhyhe wanted to look at him. He was operating on a hunch. No one had asked his reasons, but that was only temporary. Depending on what he found, he’d have to say something.
As Michael moved through the stable, he couldn’t help but notice the collection of expensive horse flesh. “The earl has some fine horses back here,” Michael said, noticing the stallions and mares taking up the many stalls.
“Yes, Your Grace. He has always taken pride in his horses,” Peter replied.
“I had not realized,” Michael returned.
Peter stood in front of a dark brown mare. Michael immediately noticed the dried mud on its hocks and belly. It could be from the bog, he reasoned. “Would we be able to determine whether this horse was ridden in the last 24 hours?”
“I feel sure the Woods could tell us. He’s attending to a horse on the other side of the stall. Let me get him,” Peter said.
A few minutes later, a dark-haired young man with brown eyes showed up. “Your Grace, I’m Woods. Peter said you had a question for me.” The man looked the size of a jockey.
“This horse . . . has it been taken out over the last twenty-four hours?” Michael said.
“No, Your Grace. I had no requests for her . . .” Woods said. His voice faded as he looked at the horse and noticed the dried mud. “How did she get mud on her?” He looked from Peter to Michael.
Peter threw up his hands plaintively. “This horse did not go with us yesterday, and I know nothing of anyone riding this morning.”
“Then . . . how did this horse get muddied?” Michael asked, redirecting the conversation.
“I . . . we do not know, Your Grace, but we will find out how,” Woods said, taking a stiff boar-hair brush down from the side of the barn and brushing the mud from the horse’s leg.
“Woods, if you gain any insights, please let me know,” the duke said. He gave a nod to Oliver, and the two of them walked toward the door. Once they were outside the stable, the duke spoke with his footman. “Oliver, take another footman with you and go to the gamekeeper’s cottage. It should be empty, but I’d like a complete report on it, as I plan to hire a gamekeeper soon. Consider everything. I’d like to have a complete list of needed repairs. Be armed, just in case…a badger or something has taken up residence, although do not use your weapons unless it’s a last resort.” He stopped short of asking that he look for intruders. He didn’t want to plan for that contingency and hoped that his suspicions were incorrect.
“If you’d like me to check it out for you, Your Grace, I’m glad to do it.”
“I appreciate that, Oliver. I’ve had a niggling concern that the stone structure may need more than a gentle cleaning,” Michael explained.
“I understand, Your Grace,” Oliver replied. “I will see to it immediately.”
“Danson, our first stop is Nevil’s Jewelers on the high street,” Michael said, before climbing into his coach.
