“I’ll go and see to it, Mr. Gabe,” Barrow said. “What a fine collection of horses! Good day to you, Ethan,” he called to Delaney.
The dark man’s face split with a grin. “Barrow, is it? I didn’t know you’d be here. Old home week it is to be sure! You’ll take good care of these lovelies, I know.” Delaney dismounted and tossed his reins to one of the grooms. “Right, boys, take ’em round and get ’em settled—Mr. Barrow is in charge. I’ll have a word with the captain here.”
The herd of young horses, mainly mares, streamed around the side of the house and disappeared through the arch into the courtyard. At the same time Barrow shot back through the kitchen, the shortcut to the courtyard, followed by Nicky and Jim.
Mr. Ethan Delaney came up the steps, and the two men shook hands. A man of no more than medium height, the Irishman was thickset and powerful. He walked with a roll that was only too familiar to Callie: the walk of a man who’d been practically born on a horse. His tough-looking face and pugilist’s build contrasted oddly with his attire, for though he was in riding dress, he was very neatly and stylishly turned out, with shining black boots, an elegant neck cloth, and a well-cut coat of dark blue superfine.
“Where did you spring from, Delaney?” Gabriel exclaimed. “The last time I saw you was at Salamanca, bleeding all over your beautiful uniform like a stuck pig.”
“Your brother ran into me, hanging around Tattersalls.” He shook his head. “I’ve not exactly been havin’ a run o’ luck, sir. No London gentlemen wants to take an ageing Irishman on; old soldiers are a penny a dozen. But your brother seemed to think I might be useful for this new scheme of yours, so he’s appointed me his head trainer.”
“So I should hope!” Gabe clapped him on the shoulder. “Once they see what a wizard you are with horses, they’ll be trying to steal you from Harry.”
“Well, mebbe they’ll be findin’ I’m not such an easy man to steal,” Delaney said. “Now, do you want to take a look at those horses, Captain?”
Gabe glanced at Callie. “Delaney, this is Mrs. Prynne, who, with her son, have been my guests. I’m about to escort Mrs. Prynne to her friend’s house near Lulworth, so I won’t have time to look at the horses until after my return.”
“Lulworth is it?” Delaney said after they’d exchanged greetings. “Would you mind if I came with you, then? I picked up a whisper of a stallion near Lulworth that might be for sale, and the sooner we get on to it, the better.” To Gabe he added, “A fellow called Blaxland, a devil for the tables he is and havin’ to sell up. The whisper is that he’d sell Thunderbolt for the right sum—”
“Thunderbolt! The derby winner?”
Delaney grinned. “Aye, the very one. Harry and I mean to make Blaxland an offer.”
Gabriel’s brows rose. “Harry and you?”
The Irishman nodded. “I’ve some savings put by, a nest egg. I’ve been looking for an investment in my future to keep me in my old age.” He shifted awkwardly. “I’d not be just the head trainer but a junior partner—that’s if you’re amenable, sir.” He eyed the younger man uncertainly. There was a difference in station as well as age here, Callie could see.
Gabriel shrugged. “It’s Harry’s dream and Harry’s scheme, so it’s for Harry to say. But if it were up to me, I’d say welcome, Delaney. A man of your talents is a valuable acquisition. You’re no shirker and an honest man. We’ll work well together.”
The Irishman’s face lit up. “That’s grand, sir. Harry said you’d not mind, but I wasn’t sure. I mean, you’re a lord’s son, and I’m just a poor bog Irishman—”
“—who’s a genius with horses,” Gabriel finished. “Now, I’d rather not keep Mrs. Prynne standing about any longer, so—”
“I am very well able to stand about a little longer,” Callie interposed. “Certainly long enough for Mr. Delaney to refresh himself after his journey. And I can see you’re itching to see those horses he’s brought, so shall we delay my departure for an hour or two?”
“That’s very considerate of you, ma’am,” Delaney said. “Thank you kindly. I’ll be off and see the mares are settled and then I’ll have a quick wash and brush up. And mebbe a quick cup of tea.” He bowed and hurried off.
Gabriel took Callie’s gloved hand. “Thank you,” he said in a low voice, and he raised her hand and kissed it. “We depart for Lulworth in an hour then.”
She blushed as she watched him run down the stairs, two at a time. Even through the glove, she could still feel his kiss.
“That’s West Lulworth, down there, and over there is Lulworth Cove.” Gabriel gestured with the handle of his whip. They were traveling in his curricle, a sporty vehicle painted in dark gray with cherry-red trimmings and pulled by two gray horses.
“What a lovely view,” Callie exclaimed, looking at the perfect horseshoe-shaped stretch of water beyond the straggle of thatched cottages that comprised the village. Lulworth Cove shone a dazzling blue in the sunshine. It was dotted with a few small fishing boats and a large, sleek white yacht.
“Where exactly does your friend live?” Gabriel asked.
“A house called Rose Cottage. It’s half a mile to the west of the village. There’s a kind of map here.” Callie drew a letter from her reticule and gave it to him.
Ethan Delaney rode alongside the curricle, on his big, ugly roan horse. It suited him, Callie thought. Mr. Delaney had the look of a man who’d lived a hard life. He had a large nose that had been broken more than once, a number of scars on his face and hands, a chipped tooth, and an ear that appeared to have been chewed at some stage. His hair was thick and dark, beginning to go gray at the temples, and cut brutally short—to hide the fact that it was curly, she suspected. Yet his waistcoat was splendid, if a trifle loud, and his boots gleamed with polish.
“A grand job you’re doing there, young Nicky,” Delaney called out. “It’s never your first time with the ribbons!” Nicky straightened his back and gave a quick, shy nod of acknowledgment.
Callie warmed at once to the man. For all his rough looks, Mr. Delaney had a kind heart. Nearly as kind as Gabriel’s.
Gabriel had decided to pass the journey showing Nicky how to drive a pair, demonstrating and explaining in a quiet, deep voice. Then, on this open stretch of road he’d handed Nicky the reins, showing him how to hold them and letting him get the feel for himself. No stream of advice to make the boy nervous, no anxiety. He’d simply sat back, trusting Nicky with his precious matched grays.
“Yes, he’s a natural,” Gabriel agreed, perusing the letter. “Handles the ribbons with a nice light touch.”
