Branford glanced towards the easel. “The hibiscus.”
“My painting!” she cried. “My paintings arenotfor sale.”
The earl removed the folded paper from his pocket and held it out. “Here—since you seem to think you can solve every conundrum in the universe, I will return this to you.” A shrug. “I’m sure you will eventually figure it out.”
Alex hesitated, pride apparently warring with practicality. “Very well,” she said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.
“What was that?”
“I agree to your terms, milord,” she replied. “You may have the painting when you have deciphered the letter.”
Relieved that he had created a way to keep an eye on her—and her frightening sense of responsibility for her family—the earl inclined a slight bow. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Chilton, but we have a deal.” He put the coded letter back in his pocket. “Good day to you,” he added before turning away
“Wretch!” she muttered as he disappeared into the corridor.
Lord Ashton ranhis hand down the hock of the big grey carriage horse, then turned to observe the perfectly matched companion tied alongside the. “What do you think, Sebastian?”
Branford ran his critical eye over the pair. “Both of them are a bit narrow in the chest, but they’re not bad for the price.”
The dealer standing close by let out his breath. “It’s a very fair price, if I say so myself, Your Lordship. But of course, for any friend of yours …”
A quelling look from the earl silenced the man.
Ashton straightened. “I appreciate your help, Sebastian. Lud knows, you have the best eye for horseflesh of anyone I know.”
“Happy to be of assistance, Henry. Are these two all you wish to purchase today?
His friend nodded. “Are you doing any business here yourself?”
“No, but if you’re finished, I shall have a look around. Bagley has been raving about a chestnut hunter, and I hear the animal’s up for sale today.”
Ashton waved him on. “Go ahead. I’ll settle up here. Oh—and don’t forget, Cecilia expects you to call on her this afternoon.”
“I will do so without fail.”
With that, Branford strolled off. Sale day at Tattersall’s was always of interest … and often amusement. He watched an acquaintance from White’s—a foppishly dressed, haughty second son of a duke—haggling over a colt and suppressed a grin. The animal was showy, but spindleshanked and would no doubt turn out to be a weak mount with a miserable gait.
And the price was nothing short of a fleecing.
Suppressing a grin, the earl turned away, but had only gone a short distance before he noticed another deal being discussed.
Despite himself, he paused.
Justin Chilton was examining the teeth of a bay stallion with obvious inexperience.
“Not more than five years old, sir,” exclaimed the dealer. “A solid horse, and runs like the wind.”
More like twelve, and a plodder to boot,thought Branford, who couldn’t help but overhear the conversation.
“I don’t know,” said Justin uncertainly. “He seems a little skittish to me, and the price …”
“It’s averygood price, sir. You’ll do no better, I assure you.”
It was no concern of his, the earl told himself. The pup had no business coming to a place like Tattersall’s without someone experienced to show him the ropes. He’d learn a good lesson by making a cake of himself.
Still, something held him back from walking away and leaving the young man on his own.Damnation … from behind, Justin Chilton looked just like his cousin Jeremy.The young man even had the same way of holding his head when deep in thought …
Justin reached out to stroke the bay’s head, but the animal shied away with a snort.
