Mystical?Truly, the man was astounding.
“She says she’ll know when she has met the Arabian’s true soul owner.”
What nonsense was this?
Valentina risked a glance toward Lord Nestor. The man looked utterly flummoxed. “Soul owner?” He snorted. “Women.”
Lord Archer lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “She’s already met Kilmuir. I think she quite liked him.”
“Kilmuir?” burst from Lord Nestor’s mouth. “That Scottish brute? What does he have to do with this?”
Lord Archer shrugged an indifferent shoulder. “Says he might be interested.”
“What does Kilmuir know about horseflesh?” Lord Nestor didn’t give Lord Archer the chance reply. “When can I meet her?”
Lord Archer’s gaze screwed up to the sky, as if searching for the answer there. Valentina’s every last nerve frazzled to the end, and he looked as cool as a light spring breeze.
And it struck her.
Lord Archer was in his element.
Valentina, on the other hand, preferred that the rules be laid out clearly, and that everyone play by them. Black and white, no gray space.
The gray was where Lord Archer thrived and frolicked.
“The contessa has expressed an interest in a visit to Hyde Park on the morrow.”
“Name the time,” said Lord Nestor.
The more intense Lord Nestor became, the more relaxed LordArcher appeared. But Valentina guessed his heart was racing just as fast as hers. Not from fright, like hers, but from pure excitement. “Eight of the clock.”
“That’s rather late for a Hyde Park visit.”
“In the morning.”
“I never rise before ten.”
Lord Archer shrugged. “Perhaps tomorrow you will. The contessa rises with the sun.”
It was all Valentina could do not to snort. She’d never risen with the sun in all her life. The only time she’d ever seen a sunrise was this very morning with this blasted, frustrating man.
“Fine,” said Lord Nestor. He looked none too pleased about it.
Well, it appeared she and Lord Nestor shared something in common.
“Remember to be at your most charming.” Lord Archer couldn’t resist toying with his quarry, like a cat.
“At eight in the morning?” Lord Nestor snorted. “Not bloody likely.”
“And don’t forget a gift.”
“What does the chit like?” Lord Nestor was getting grumpy and petulant like a fractious child pushed too far.
But Lord Archer wouldn’t—orcouldn’t, more like—stop. He was having too much fun. “Small, furry animals.”
Valentina squeaked a surprised, “Yip!” then coughed to cover it up.
Lord Nestor peered around so as to get a good look at her, and Valentina ducked her head so all he could see was the top of her floppy hat.
