"I could show you. It isn't far," Randy suggested.
Charles turned to his uncle as if to ask if he might.
"Up you go, Freddy," Will said, putting an arm around Charles. "She's a patient and gentle soul. Walk her easy." Freddy clearly needed little instruction; he was a born rider. With little encouragement from Reilly, he began to circle the paddock.
"I could do that, if I wanted to," Charles said stiffly.
"Of course you could," Randy told him. "It just takes a bit of patience and practice." He leaned in. "Even I can do it."
Will thanked the Good Lord who sent these boys into his life. I might get through to Charles yet. Before he could consider how best to take advantage, retribution arrived in the form of an irate older sister.
"Randolph and Frederick Wheatly, what on earth are you about?"
"Hello, Cath," Freddy called from horseback. "We're just visiting. His Grace don't mind."
His Grace, in Catherine's opinion, looked rather too stunned to mind, if the awkward boy next to Chadbourn was, indeed, the new duke.
"Miss Wheatly, it is my privilege to present His Grace, the Duke of Murnane, Charles Wheatly. Charles, may I present Miss Catherine Wheatly?"
"I'm honored, Your Grace." Catherine curtseyed to the boy properly. Through lowered lashes, she watched his uncle whisper in his ear. The duke looked at Chadbourn in question before he turned back to Catherine. What on earth?
The young duke looked uncertain. "Chadbourn suggests you should call me Charles, since we are cousins. Are you really my cousin?" he asked.
Or something very like. "Of course, if your uncle says it. You may call me Catherine, if you like." His returning smile looked more shy than haughty. Catherine warmed to the boy immediately.
"Cath, His Grace likes birds," Randy broke in. "Can I show him the owl in the woods? He don't even know it's there, even though it is practically on his land," Randy enthused.
"That would be 'may I' and 'he doesn't…'" She caught the earl's eye. "I need to discuss it with His Lordship." She couldn't decide if Chadbourn's welcome of her brothers boded good or ill. The damned man seems amused.
"Famous," Randy said to Charles, "Cath will talk him round. She likes the owl, too. My father is an expert on birds. Would you like to see his books?" The two boys moved toward the rails, talking a mile a minute, but Catherine quit listening. Chadbourn's eyes held hers.
"When would you like him?" Chadbourn asked with a grin.
"Beg pardon?" Catherine shook off the stupor his gaze had engendered.
"My nephew. Nothing for it. He has to visit."
"I'm sorry, my lord. This is all too much. We don't 'visit' with Eversham Hall."
"And that's a damned shame. The boys are good for Charles, and he would be good for them."
Catherine searched her brain for a riposte. Her hard-won contentment lay on the ground. This interfering earl plans to upset everything.
"You said yourself, you would only be here until the New Year. You don't?—"
"They are only boys, Miss Wheatly. Whatever lies between Songbird Cottage and Eversham Hall need not color their lives."
She frowned but had no reply, because in her heart she agreed with him.
"The horses alone would enrich Freddy's life, and his example might?—"
Whatever the earl meant to say was cut short by a screech from farther down the paddock fence. Charles lay half-suspended on a fence rail inside the paddock. Both adults took off at a dead run. Randy had his arms around the young duke supporting his weight. A nasty slice that cut through his trouser leg oozed blood.
"I'm bleeding, Uncle Will," the boy cried.
Chadbourn called out to Freddy, "Help Reilly get the horses out of the paddock!" He lowered his nephew to the ground and tore back the cloth around the duke's thigh. The earl looked frantic. Freddy dropped to the ground and led the horse away, while Reilly ran to help.
"Am I going to die?" the boy asked. His clenched teeth looked like they held back a cry. Catherine guessed he couldn't bear to show weakness in front of other boys.
