“And that big bay horse?”
“The one Miss Shreveton was riding? Yes, very well. I understand she schooled him.” Stefton forced himself to relax. He crossed his legs and steepled his fingertips as he listened.
“Aye,” Dawes said glumly, sitting down across from the Marquis.
“Has anything happened to the animal?”
“Sold ’m.”
“I always supposed that was your purpose,” Stefton said drily. “Don’t tell me she wanted him for herself? He is a magnificent horse, but surely no match for her black."
"No, my lord.” Dawes scratched the back of his neck and grimaced. “That’s not what has me perturbed like."
"Then what is it?” Stefton finally asked, frustrated with Dawes’s slow manner.
“Sir Philip Kirkson bought’m, my lord,” he said baldly. “Miss Catherine will not like that.”
“But surely, if he paid a good price, she should have no prejudice. Business is business.”
“Not to Miss Catherine, my lord,” Dawes said glumly.
“Ah, you’re afraid she’ll cut you up for selling one of her darlings to that wastrel,” Stefton said with a laugh.
“That’s not all, my lord.” The man looked pained. “He’s been askin’ questions.”
“Questions about what?” Stefton asked quietly, though he thought he could guess.
“Miss Catherine. Questions about how come she has a Burke horse first, then more details on her and her family. Didn’t think to hush the men. Couple known her forever. Proud of her.”
Stefton let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. “So they informed Kirkson of her being Sir Eugene’s niece and heir,” he said flatly.
“Yes, my lord. And ’bout her riding horses like a man.”
The Marquis rubbed his chin in thought. “I don’t see how he could use that information to his advantage. He couldn’t persuade her to fly to the border with him. And telling Society would serve no other purpose than to draw every gadfly in town to her door with a bunch of posies and a proposal.”
“Nother thing. Been questioning your man, too.”
The Marquis glanced sharply at Dawes, his thick black brows pulled down creating deep furrows between them. “Friarly?”
Dawes nodded. “I sent Ol’ Jack, bandy-legged man you met here, to tip his elbow with him at the tavern. Seems Kirkson’s payin’ your man. Handsomely.”
The Marquis’s eyes narrowed, his visage darkening until Dawes was moved to continue hastily.
“Tain’t what he’s said. Seems he’s to do something what ain’t done yet.”
“Really? Interesting,” the Marquis drawled dangerously. “I hope Kirkson has paid him well. He’ll need every penny when I’m through with him.”
Dawes nodded, satisfied. “Knew you’d keep our Miss Catherine safe. Told the missus. She wouldn’t listen. Wrote home tellin’ about Miss Catherine’s odd behavior."
"Damn.”
Dawes nodded again, then stared down at his large hands, absently wringing them. He grimaced. “Don’t know what will happen. Sir Eugene’s demanding an explanation. Says as how he’ll come to London himself if need be.”
“Egad, no! That’s the last thing we want. Thankfully he’s as far away as he is,” Stefton said caustically.
“Thing is, he ain’t. In Nottingham for a horse fair. Says coming here afterward.”
“He could be a worse threat than Kirkson. I like and admire Sir Eugene a great deal. Still, if he comes to town bellowing like a stuck pig and demanding explanations, the resulting scandal will severely cripple Miss Shreveton’s standing in Society!”
