“Not a bit, Plunkett, not a bit. This young lady here kept me upright.”
“I saw.” The servant, who was a good deal older than he’d first appeared and suffered from a pronounced limp, turned to her with a grateful smile. “Quick thinking, miss!”
“Quick thinking and quick instincts, Plunkett. That’s the thing, eh?”
“Indeed, we’re grateful to you, Miss . . . er, Miss—”
“Thorne.” Prue dipped into a curtsy. “Prudence Thorne.”
“Well, Prudence Thorne, I beg your pardon for not introducing myself to you yesterday. I’m Colonel Cornelius Kingston, and if there’s anything I can do to return the favor, you tell me at once.”
“I wouldn’t mind having a closer look at your horse, Colonel Kingston, if you don’t mind.” She was a beautiful bay mare with dainty hooves and a streak of pure white on her forehead. “She’s a Cleveland bay, is she not?”
The silver eyebrows rose. “You know horses, girl?”
She reached out to stroke the horse’s velvety nose. “Oh, yes. I learned to ride nearly before I could walk. My father is retired cavalry, the 1st Royal Regiment of Dragoons.”
“Thorne, you say?” Colonel Kingston and his servant exchanged a glance. “What, you mean to say Major Thomas Thorne is your father?”
She paused her stroking. “Yes. Are you acquainted with him?”
“No, but I know of him. His regiment fought with the Union Brigade at Waterloo. Those boys took an eagle off the French in that skirmish. Your father’s a hero, girl.”
“He is, Colonel. He is, indeed,” Prue replied, beaming.
“Is he here at Basingstoke House with you?”
“No, Colonel. His indifferent health keeps him in Wiltshire, I’m afraid.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but it didn’t seem like the thing to confess that her father had vowed he’d never come amongst thetonagain after his disastrous wager with the Duke of Montford.
“What, you don’t mean to say you’re here alone, girl?” The colonel’s eyebrows grew positively fearsome.
“Oh no, Colonel. My father would never allow that. I’m here as a guest of the Duchess of Basingstoke.”
“The duchess, you say? Well, that’s alright, then, I suppose. She’s a good girl, the duchess. She took Basingstoke right in hand, and he’s much improved for it. Basingstoke is a friend of my grandson Montford, you know.”
Ah, so this was the terrifying grandfather Franny had told her about. He didn’t look like much of an ogre to her, but then Colonel Kingston might become fearsome, indeed, if he knew about the recent unpleasantness between her and his grandson.
God knewshewas appalled at it.
Speaking of which . . . she glanced behind her, toward the house. Her lady’s maid had mentioned that the Duke of Montford had arrived for the shooting party late last night, and she couldn’t be certain he wasn’t peeking out his windows right now, watching her.
She was no coward, but she couldn’t stomach facing Montford just yet.
“I take it you’re acquainted with my grandson, Miss Thorne?”
“Er, well, yes, that is, in a manner of speaking . . .” Fortunately, she was saved from having to say any more, because just then a groom emerged from the stables, a riding crop in one hand and the reins of an enormous black horse woven between the fingers of the other.
“Oh, my.” She stared, her breath snagging in her throat. Was that her mount?
Franny had chosen this horse especially for her, for her exclusive use while they were in the country. He was called Sampson, and goodness, but he was a spectacular creature, a vision of equine beauty, with long, graceful limbs and a rippling, coal-black mane.
He was already dancing with impatience, his massive hooves pawing the ground, eager to be gone.
She edged closer, her breath still held. “Oh, my goodness.”
“Miss Thorne?” The groom, a man by the name of Cosgrove, waved her over with a smile. “Are you ready for your morning ride?”
“Yes, indeed.” Prue waved to the groom, then turned back to the colonel with a smile. “I beg your pardon, Colonel, but Mr. Cosgrove is waiting for me. It was a great pleasure seeing you again.” She curtsied, gave the bay mare’s nose one last lingering pat, and after a smile at Plunkett, made her way toward the stables, where Cosgrove had brought Sampson up to the mounting block.
