“My guess is the horse’s relationship to the Duke of Harlowe had something to do with his price,” Father continued.
Thea’s brown knit into a frown. “The Duke of Har—”
Thea trailed off as Anthony stepped into the room. Her brother stopped short as soon as he saw her. He gave her a wary look and took an unwitting step back.
“Come in, Anthony,” Father said. “You might as well be a part of this discussion, too.”
“I’m waiting to see if Thea intends to scratch out my eyes,” Anthony said, a half-smile riding his lips. He resumed his saunter into the room, but continued to keep a watchful eye on Thea.
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her brother with one brow arched. “Father just told me how much the Arabian sold for.”
Anthony let out a pent-up breath and sighed. “Believe me, I tried my best. I’d no idea anyone would bidthathigh.”
“Are you certain you didn’t mishear the cost?” Thea ventured.
Anthony’s bark of laughter filled the room. He shook his head. “I may be five years your senior, but I am not yet old enough to be hard of hearing. I’m quite certain the Arabian sold for an exorbitant amount.”
“Who would be foolish enough, reckless enough, to pay that much?” she demanded, her anger at her brother quickly finding a new target ... the bastard who paid a fortune forherhorse.
Anthony ran a hand across the back of his neck. “You don’t understand, Thea. In addition to its bloodline, the horse belonged to the Duke of Harlowe. Everyone in the country has heard that sad story.”
Thea gave her brother a patient smile. Of course she knew the story of the Duke of Harlowe. Or, more precisely, theformerduke. Maggie loved to read Thea the society pages of theTimeson a regular basis. The entire story had been chronicled there. After being purchased from her father six years ago, the Arabian had been the mount of the former duke’s younger brother, a soldier who’d taken the steed to war. The poor young man had lost his life on the Continent and the magnificent horse had been carefully returned to England by the Earl of Wellington himself to be returned to the duke.
The horse could not replace his brother, of course, but the duke’s younger brother had adored the animal and the steed was worth a small fortune—even before he’d been sold at auction for the mind-numbing amount Father had just reported.
The sad tale of the Duke of Harlowe did not end there, however. The young duke died unexpectedly in his sleep not two months after the horse’s return. Because the duke had been unmarried and his younger brother was already dead, the man’s title and all worldly possessions—including the horse—had been auctioned off by the soon-to-be new Duke of Harlowe. The new duke was a distant relation who’d arrived in London and caused nothing but scandal and havoc since his arrival. According to all sources, the man was a disgrace and the dowager duchess, the former duke’s mother, who was still in mourning for both of her sons, was at her wits’ end dealing with the shame the man was bringing upon the family name. Poor lady.
But the misfortunes of the Duke of Harlowe’s kin were not Thea’s concern. While she felt badly for the dowager duchess, and the unfortunate dead brothers, if someone was going to get that horse at auction, it might as well be her. He’d belonged to her previously, after all. And if her father wasn’t such a selfish clod, he never would have sold the animal.
“I’m quite sorry for the Duke of Harlowe and his deceased brother, but I never wanted the horse because of the gossip surrounding its former owner,” she insisted. No. She wanted the horse because of Mama. Riding was a passion that she and her mother had shared. Alabaster, the Arabian, had been the foal of Mama’s horse, Helena. During the months her mother had laid dying in her bed, riding Alabaster had been Thea’s only respite. She’d lost her mother, but she wouldnotlose her horse. Only shehadlost the horse, or more precisely, the horse had been ripped out from under her. Her father had wasted no time selling her mother’s horse and the Duke of Harlowe, who’d made the offer, had doubled it when he realized Thea’s horse was descended from the same bloodline.
Father, ever one to make a profit, had sold both horses while Thea had been holding her mother’s hand, ensuring that she drank at least a trickle of water, and sponging her heated body. Father hadn’t cared. He’d barely come to visit Mama in all those months. Instead, he’d casually informed Thea via aletterof all things that her horse had been sold. Alabaster was gone before Thea even had a chance to make it to the barn to see him one last time.
She still shook with anger when she thought of it. At her mother’s funeral, Thea had informed her father that she would never forgive him for his thoughtlessness. At the time, her father had attributed her reaction to her age of eighteen years and the fact that she was grieving her mother. “There are other horses in this world, Theodora,” her father had blithely replied.
Now, four years later, and still unforgiven, her father had relented when Thea had pointed out that Alabaster was to be auctioned. She and Father had agreed upon a price and Thea had begged her brother to go to London and see that the matter was settled. She would finally have her beloved horse back. Only she wouldn’t, because apparently someone had been mad enough to pay a ridiculous price forherhorse.
“Harlowe’s story may not have been of consequence to you,” Anthony continued, “but the tragic story of the duke had every horse-loving man in London at Tattersall’s that day, with his pocketbook at the ready. I’ve never seen the place so crowded. It was madness.”
Thea clenched her fists. Confound it. Why did her horse have to have former owners with such a dramatic history? She immediately chastised herself for having such an ungenerous thought. It was hardly the Duke of Harlowe’s fault that he and his brother had died unceremoniously. But Thea hadn’t counted on there being such stiff competition at the auction. And she certainly hadn’t counted on the horse selling for more than Father hadin additionto her dowry. There had to be a way to get more money and buy the horse from whoever had won the auction. Which reminded her ... Anthony had yet to give her the name of her new sworn enemy.
“Who was it?” Thea demanded, plunking her fists to her hips and fighting the urge to stamp her slippered foot. “Who paid that much? Who won the auction?”
“Clayton.” Anthony replied, inclining his head. “Viscount Clayton. I knew the man had money, but his investments must be doing even better than I’d heard.”
“Indeed,” Father added, nodding sagely.
“Clayton?” Theodora repeated, narrowing her eyes again. She tapped one finger against her cheek. “The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I’m not placing him.”
“Viscount Clayton lives here in Devon. He’s a good man. Smart. Shrewd. A favorite in Parliament. A scientist, I believe,” Father said.
“Have I met him?” Thea asked, her eyes still narrowed. “I don’t remember him. Does he attend our Christmastide ball?”
“I invite him to the ball every year, that’s probably how you remember the name. But he always sends his regrets. He spends a great deal of time in London. He has been here before, but it’s been many years. I’m certain you wouldn’t recall what a lot of old men were discussing. His family has lived at Clayton Manor for generations, of course. The current viscount is a force in Parliament from what I understand. Quite the politician. Knows everyone. Very connected.”
Thea stepped toward the window and stared out toward the pasture. Perfect. An old man bought her horse. An old rich man. Someone who probably wouldn’t even be able to ride the animal and enjoy it. Perhaps she could talk him out of it. Perhaps she could appeal to his kindness. He’d been in competition against other men at the auction. Perhaps a young woman could talk him into seeing reason, to appeal to his softer side. At least he was a neighbor. She wouldn’t have to travel terribly far to get Alabaster. Surely if she explained to Viscount Clayton that she didn’t want the horse because of the notoriety surrounding his former owner, but because of her deep love of the animal, the man couldn’t possibly refuse to sell her the horse. Not if he were a gentleman.
Thea turned swiftly to address Anthony and her father. “How far away is Lord Clayton’s estate?”
