Page 6

A grin playing around the edges of his mouth, Chester cut a wave toward Stewart and then made his way outside. Remarkable how that small bundle of feminine energy had lifted his spirits like nothing else had in a great while.

Reins in hand, a young ostler waited with Magnus beside a much-used dogcart pulled by a pretty bay mare—wearing a hideous straw hat, complete with purple and orange silk flowers.

Upon the wagon’s seat sat the most pathetic excuse for a canine Chester had ever seen. Of an undistinguishable breed, one raggedy black ear stood straight up and the other ear—this one grayish-beige—drooped onto its forehead. Its brandy-colored gaze remained fixed on the doorway Chester had just exited. And the whole while, its tongue peeking from the side of its mouth, the dog appeared to grin. A bright yellow ribbon tied in a large floppy bow graced the mutt’s mottled neck.

Still ugly as sin, and a waste of good ribbon.

Chester angled his head toward the creature, which spared him the briefest glance before training his avid attention on the pub once more.

“Eden Haverden’s?”

An ear-to-ear grin split the groom’s face, and he nodded.

“Yes, m’lord. His name is Mr. Wiggles. Miss Eden found him dumped outside Newbury—oh, I guess it’d be about three years ago now.”

Wiggles?

Her dog’s name was almost as charmingly awful as hers. And God help him, who put a hat—a hideously ugly hat—on their horse?

Eglantina Eden Aster Haverden, that’s who.

Who was she?

He knew her name of course, but what had brought her to Newbury? When had she come? What was her story, for everyone had a tale? Often more than one. Some they’d rather keep secret.

Why, devil take it, was he so interested?

He surveyed the street as he accepted Magnus’s ribbons.

“Your lordship?” With a jerk of his shaggy head, the ostler indicated the horse’s sore foot. “I removed the rock and packed mud, but he has a nasty hoof bruise. You can ride him if you must, but I’d advise stabling him in Newbury for a few days until he heals. Another mount can be had yonder.” He pointed down the street. “Or mayhap, Miss Eden can give you a ride. She lives close to Perygrim Park.”

He wouldn’t risk laming Magnus. The horse meant too much to him, and at thirteen, with proper care, had many good riding years left.

His mount’s injury provided Chester a legitimate excuse for delaying his arrival at Perygrim, but at this juncture, he just wanted to have done with the confrontation. Delaying another day or two was cowardly, and he’d never again give the duke an excuse to call him a poltroon.

“Very well. See that he has the best care.” He passed the groom a crown as he handed the reins back. “There’s double that for you when I return for him.”

“Thank you, m’lord. I’ll treat him like the prince he is.”

With another wide grin, the chap eagerly pocketed the coin.

Chester let Mr. Wiggles sniff the back of his hand, then scratched the dog’s scruffy neck.

Miss Haverden swept out the door, calling lively farewells to those inside.

“I’ll be back at the end of the week. The hens are laying better now that it’s lighter longer, and the hothouse asparagus is nearly ready.”

Pulling up her hood, she glanced at the sulky sky before approaching her wagon.

“I fear we’re in for more rain, Benjamin. Peony won’t like that at all, even with her hat.”

The horse wore a hat because she didn’t like the rain?

“For certain, Miss.”

Chester hadn’t missed the flush tinting Benjamin’s freckled face or the swiftly concealed look of adoration he gave her.

Unfamiliar chagrin jolted down Chester’s spine. Not only hadn’t it occurred to him to ask the groom his name, but something prickly and unpleasant and very much like jealousy needled him.