The man’s weathered face creased further when he grinned at Alfreda slightly because he’d guessed correctly, but when he glanced at Brooke, he appeared undecided whether to say anything else. For a moment, she could have sworn his expression turned pitying. But then he seemed to shake off whatever emotion that had been and introduced himself. “I’m Arnold Biscane, head groom here at Rothdale Manor. And this is my youngest son, Peter.”
“You’re related to Gabriel Biscane?” Brooke asked curiously.
“Gabe is my nephew. And Peter has already put your mare out to pasture with the other mares and will fetch her when you need her. She will be well cared for here.”
“Thank you.” Brooke smiled. “Indeed, Rebel is precious to me.”
She didn’t just love her horse. Rebel represented hope for her future. She wanted to breed the mare while Rebel was still young. She hadn’t been allowed to at home because their head groom had orders not to increase the stock. When she was younger, she had devised all sorts of plans to accomplish her goal anyway, even trying at midnight when the grooms were asleep. But she was afraid to get near her father’s stallion that Rebel favored. But Brooke might be allowed to breed Rebel here, if the wolf did indeed breed horses.
She would ask the viscount that when, or rather if, she ever met him. At the moment she was more concerned about Alfreda’s herb cuttings and asked Arnold, “Is that a greenhouse we saw over by the hedges?”
Arnold nodded. “Lady Anna, Viscount Rothdale’s mother, had it built. She loved to garden and didn’t want to mar the design of the house by adding a conservatory. She grew special flowers that were later replanted in the park. Some even survived after she left, though everything inside the greenhouse has long since withered and died.”
“D’you think I could do some gardening in the greenhouse?”
He didn’t answer, probably didn’t know if she would be allowed to, but he did ask instead, “You think you’ll be staying then, m’lady, and marrying his lordship despite the curse?”
She wondered why he suddenly looked so sad and then realized he must believe in that silly curse. She almost giggled at his question though. What a deplorable subject to raise, and she didn’t even know the answer!
So she said, “That’s a very good question, but the answer remains to be seen, since I haven’t even met him yet. Thank you for seeing to my horse. I’d like to meet all of the Rothdale horses when I have more time, but just now I’m going to go check on Rebel out back while my maid has a closer look at the greenhouse. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes, Freda.”
Brooke walked through the large stable and out the open back door. The pasture fence began back there and stretched far to the west. She spotted Rebel grazing in the far field. The male horses were kept in the near pasture. She watched them for a while, noting that no slugs were in the bunch. Prime horseflesh, all of them. One trotted toward her. He was solid black, even his mane and tail, and beautifully sleek even as big as he was. He stuck his head over the fence trying to reach her.
She moved closer to rub his nose gently. “Well, aren’t you pretty. Yes, I know you’re not a mare, so don’t take offense. You’re still pretty.”
“You’re a brave one, aren’t you? Dominic’s stallion isn’t usually friendly to anyone. He’s tried to bite me a time or two.”
The horse galloped off as Brooke swung around to see Gabriel standing behind her. “I love horses. Perhaps they sense that.”
He shook his head. “I love horses, too. Who doesn’t, as handy as they are? But that brute still tries to bite anyone who approaches him, carrot in hand or not. Just be cautious if he comes near you again, or just don’t go too close to his fence. He’s king of the roost.” Gabriel laughed and waved his hand behind him. “Like his owner is of all the rest.”
That didn’t sound like an order, merely friendly advice that she could take or ignore as she pleased, but she nodded. “Have you come to give me a tour of the property?”
“No, he’s ready to see you.” Gabriel extended an arm toward the house.
Her feet might as well have just grown roots. She wasn’t moving. “Why?”
He laughed. “Why? And here I thought you wanted to meet him today.”
The devil she did. That sick feeling was back, churning in her belly. Dread. She ought to be used to it when she had lived most of her life with it for one reason or another.
She still couldn’t seem to move and distracted him from noticing by asking, “What exactly is your post here?”
“I’m a jack-of-all-trades.” He grinned. “I do whatever Dom wants done.”
She was surprised to hear him speak so familiarly of his lord and to refer to him by a nickname. “You care about him?”
“Friends usually do.”
If she hadn’t just met other Biscanes who had claimed Gabriel as a relative, she might have thought he was minor gentry who had latched on to a benefactor. Robert had had one such friend, as hard as it was to believe he had any, who often came home with him and stayed as a guest. Servants, however, didn’t usually consider their employers friends. She’d thought she was unique among the nobility in befriending servants. Her family certainly didn’t. Good grief, did she and Viscount Rothdale have this in common, too?
“So he’s a likable fellow? I’m so—” Her mouth snapped shut when she saw all humor leave his expression. The knot in her belly tightened. And he didn’t answer her!
“I don’t mean to rush you, Lady Whitworth, but he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“I’m not moving a step without hearing your answer first.”
Gabriel sighed. “You must know the reason why you are at Rothdale Manor. The hatred for your brother runs deep here.”
