“About an hour’s ride from here,” Father replied. “Due East.”
Anthony narrowed his eyes on his sister. “Why are you asking?”
“I’m simply curious about the man,” Thea replied, calmly folding her hands together in front of her. It wouldn’t do for Anthony to guess that she intended to visit the viscount if she had to. Her brother would surely put a stop to it. Or try to at any rate.
Theodora turned once more and stared out the window, her mind racing. In addition to her dowry, she had additional monies that her mother had left her. Mother had left special instructions that she was to have control over it. It was meant to ensure that she would be able to pick her own husband, but instead, she would use that money and the additional amount to get her horse. A horse was more important than a husband after all. More loyal at least. Besides, what did Thea need with a dowry? She was already two and twenty and firmly on the shelf. Her mother’s death prior to her come-out had ensured that Thea was able to skip that obnoxious event and then, two years later, when her father hadinsistedshe arrive at the palace and be presented to the queen (her mother’s childhood friend Lady Hophouse had sponsored her), Thea had promptly curtsied to the queen, made the obligatory rounds, and retreated to the countryside where she’d remained for the last two years, ignoring Lady Hophouse’s repeated letters begging her to return to London and find a husband. Husbands weren’t good for much. Horses were.
Of course even if her father gave her their originally agreed upon amount and she used her dowryandthe additional money from her mother, it still wouldn’t be enough to pay Viscount Clayton as much as he’d spent. How in the world would she come up with the difference? She wasn’t entirely certain, but she knew the first step would be to write to the viscount and find out if an attempt to buy the horse from him would be in vain. She’d worry about how to procure the money later. Yes. She intended to write a letter to old, frail Lord Clayton, and appeal to the man’s heart … the first chance she got.
CHAPTER TWO
Ewan Fairchild, Viscount Clayton, stood just beyond the paddock gate behind his manor house watching his latest—and by far most extravagant—purchase run across the field. His newly hired horse trainer, Forrester, was there, ensuring the best of everything for the Arabian.
In his twenty-eight years of life, Ewan had never spent more on a purchase. Certainly not for a horse, not even for one of his London town houses, but the Arabian was magnificent, and irreplaceable as far as Ewan was concerned.
He hadn’t intended to pay so much, of course. The price had been raised to a ridiculous extent by Lord Anthony Ballard, the son of the Earl of Blackstone. Ewan had never had a quarrel with Ballard. They were neighbors, in fact, but Ballard had seemed beyond intent upon winning the steed. It had surprised Ewan. He’d never known Ballard to be such a connoisseur of horseflesh. Was Ballard merely impressed by the animal’s ancestry? Or was he just another one of the many who’d been intrigued by Harlowe’s sad tale?
No, Ewan hadn’t expected the bidding to go as high as it had, but in the end, he’d won and that was what mattered. Ewan loved to win. Loved nothing better in fact. In Parliament, he excelled at winning by talking other gentlemen into seeing things his way. He had a knack for diplomacy and a reputation for being able to talk almost anyone into almost anything, but the auction hadn’t required either of those skills. It had merely required the biggest pocketbook and luckily for Ewan, the years he’d spent investing his father’s money since he’d inherited the title had paid off. In spades. As it turned out, in addition to his predilection for politics, he also had a knack for investment decisions. Besides, what was a bit of coin when a man’s life hung in the balance?
Ewan prided himself on having all his affairs in order and winning every match he came up against, be it getting a bill passed in Parliament or a horse at auction. He had his entire life planned out to the slightest detail. He had a scientific mind and scientific minds liked to leave nothing to chance. Why, he even knew who he would marry,notthat he intended to tie the parson’s noose around his neck anytime soon. But one had to be prepared and Ewan was always prepared. He’d chosen a future bride the same way he made all his decisions, with calculation and precision. Lord Malcolm was the leader of the opposition in Parliament and a union between his family and Clayton’s would go a long way toward solving many an argument in Whitehall. Malcolm’s daughter, Lady Lydia, was twenty years old already, but apparently, she was in no hurry to marry either, or so her father claimed. Just as well. Ewan was hardly eager to marry a young girl. A union with Lydia would be just the advantageous match he’d always dreamed of. It would set up Ewan to be the de facto leader in Parliament. And that connection, along with his skills in diplomacy would be all he needed to ensure his bills were passed in a timely manner. The most important ones at least. The ones he truly cared about.
In addition to politics, friendship was one of the most important things in the world to Ewan. His own close friends were like brothers to him. He’d never had brothers of his own. He’d been an only child. When he’d met his close friends Kendall, Worth, and Bell at school, the lads had become thick as thieves in no time at all.
Of course Ewan had already known Phillip. Phillip was his oldest friend. They had met as small lads, no more than six years old. Phillip’s father had been visiting Ewan’s father and the two boys had hit it off immediately. They’d run down to the creek to try to float the small boat Ewan had just finished creating out of wood earlier that day. What happened that day had changed the course of their lives. It was something Ewan would never forget and something he would always be in Phillip’s debt for.
None of Ewan’s closest friends knew about his intent to wed Lady Lydia. No need to frighten them all before the time was right. They wouldn’t be particularly surprised to learn that he would marry for politics, however. It’s not as if any of them intended to marry for anything as crass as love. Well, Kendall perhaps, Ewan thought with a chuckle.
As far as Ewan was concerned, ambition was more important than love. Or at least it got you farther in life.
Ewan glanced back toward the estate. His gaze lifted to a large second-floor window that faced that back of his land. Phillip’s bedchamber. Phillip hadn’t left that room for months. Phillip needed this horse. That was all there was to it.
Ewan strolled to the side of the paddock and his gaze traveled toward the front of the property where coach after coach arrived with the additional items he’d purchased at auction in London this week. He’d got nearly everything he’d gone to the city for, but the horse had been the most important item by far. Ewan and Forrester, the horse trainer, were going to ensure the Arabian did what he’d purchased him to do. They could not fail.
Ewan turned his gaze back to the horse. The stallion galloped past a small stable boy who flew backwards upending a bucket of water he’d been carrying out to the far end of the paddock. Ewan jogged over and helped the boy to his feet.
“I’m sorry, me lord,” the boy stumbled over his words, fear making his eyes bright. “Please forgive me, Sir. Don’t send me off, please.”
Ewan frowned. Why was this boy so frightened? “Are you the new boy Mr. Hereford just hired?”
I am, Sir,” the boy gulped. “I began just two days ago. Please don’t sack me, me lord. I won’t make the mistake again, I promise.”
“It was an honest mistake, Mr. …” Ewan waited for the boy to provide him with a surname.
“Candle, me lord. Me name be Geoffrey Candle.”
“Very well, Candle. As I was saying, it was an honest mistake and I do not terminate an honest man’s employment over small trifles. In future, you may want to go the long way around near the fence to deliver the bucket.”
Relief washed across the boy’s face and the hint of a smile played across his cracked lips. “Aye, me lord. Certainly.” He grabbed the bucket and was about to scurry back to the barn to refill it when Ewan stopped him again.
“Candle?” he called.
The boy turned back to face him, the bucket bumping against his leg. “Aye, me lord?”
Ewan pursed his lips. “Out of curiosity, where were you employed prior to coming here?”
“Lord Mayfeather’s estate, me lord.” The boy’s face showed fear even before he shuddered.
“I see,” Ewan replied. “Very well. That’ll be all.”
