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For a moment Raven lost the thread of his confession. Her dismissal of the incident as trivial should put his fears to rest, but in the phrase the deaf boy with the donkey he heard the echo of that other cruel phrase.

Amabel nudged him with her elbow. “You gave Hugh money for his vehicle, and…”

Raven had come to the most difficult part of his confession. “It made your brother quite angry.”

“He does have a temper. But I can handle Hugh.”

He stopped her, and turned her gently to face him. “Are you angry with me?”

She shook her head. Her golden curls bounced with the movement. “No, but I think you’ve been a clunch. My brother gave a bill for that curricle to Papa and he paid, too. Hugh does know how to get his way.” She laughed that same merry peal.

Raven supposed he should find the story funny, but he could not. It was too much like the stories he’d heard all afternoon of someone being duped or taken advantage of by another.

“Don’t look so serious. Let’s plan that ball of yours and forget my brother.”

Chapter Nineteen

The dry spell that set in after Raven’s quarrel with Cassie continued as the ball approached. Raven filled his days with a thousand and one details, more even, he thought than the renovation of the hall required. When things were well in hand, musicians and menu, flowers and candles, lanterns for the formal garden, extra help to assist with the carriages, he took a brief trip to London for a ring.

Late in the afternoon of the day before the ball, Wenlocke and his duchess arrived at Verwood. While preparations kept the servants busy in the hall, Raven took his guests around the property, and enjoyed their compliments on the beauty of the place and the renovations he’d made. A simple supper on the terrace followed. It had been impossible not to invite Jay to join them. Raven’s grandfather was there, as well.

Around the table in the long, lingering day, Grandfather Cole was willing to admit that Raven had done good work renovating the hall, but he continued to wonder why Raven wanted to spend more time in the country, no matter how pretty his neighbor was.

“Nothing to do in the country,” Grandfather complained. He did not himself ride, shoot, or fish.

“Can’t agree with you, there, Mr. Cole,” Jay chimed in. Wenlocke lifted a brow, and Jay took the cue. “There’s plenty of work for me. I’m training a horse for the dowager.”

The duchess, a lover of ponies, looked at Raven. “We didn’t see your stables, did we, Raven?”

Raven caught a questioning glance from Jay. “No, ma’am. My agreement with the dowager does not include her stables, so I don’t generally go there. But Jay can tell you how the training goes.”

Wenlocke and the duchess exchanged a glance before she turned to Jay again. “Do tell us about this horse, Jay.”

“He’s a bit of a secret, ma’am.” Jay smiled.

“A secret? How so?” she asked, her vivid blue eyes alight. She had always been one to get them talking even as boys when they’d felt particularly awkward. Wenlocke sat back, wine in hand, to watch his wife in action.

“He’s not run for three years, and we hope to surprise his rivals when we bring him on.”

“And when will that be?” the duchess asked.

“The dowager will decide, but I’m pushing for the end of July at the Duke of Richmond’s for some flat racing. At five, Hermes has the stamina for the six-furlong. If he can place, the dowager would be pleased.”

As the questioning progressed, Raven attended to the food on his plate. He knew that Hermes’s training continued, but since Jay moved to the Crocketts, Raven had heard nothing. Instantly, he wondered whether Cassie would go to the race with her grandmother. He had avoided seeing her, or she had avoided him, but he had felt that she was nearby. Now, perhaps, she would leave Verwood.

The duchess asked questions about training methods, and, finally, how Jay meant to get the horse to Chichester, some fifty miles away.

“Moving a horse that distance is always a difficulty, but the dowager has a plan. She’s had some experience getting a horse there.” Jay turned to Raven. “Maybe, Raven, when you finish designing fire engines, you could design a traveling horse box. It will be a slog getting Hermes to the course. We’ll start directly after your ball, I should think.”

Raven looked up, and realized that Wenlocke, ever the keen observer of people, had been watching him. When they were boys in London, it had been Wenlocke’s power of reading others that had kept them out of the clutches of those apparently amiable persons who sold boys into all forms of bondage. And Wenlocke had always known when one of his companions was troubled. Wherever they slept, Wenlocke made sure that the nightmares were kept at bay.

“And who will be your jockey?” the duchess continued.

“An unknown named Lester Oakley. He’ll make his name on Hermes, I suspect. But the real secret of our success is the dowager’s farrier, Dick Crockett. He’s got magic hands for calming a horse. We will take him with us, a sort of secret weapon.”

“So, the dowager is thinking of re-opening the Verwood stud?” Wenlocke spoke casually, but the tone did not fool Raven. It was like Wenlocke to investigate a situation before entering.

Jay nodded. “Hermes is five. Most of the purses are for two- and three-year-olds. If Hermes has some good outings this summer and fall, there might be interest in Verwood again.”