Valentine (18 page)

“There, Lady Theo. That’s all pinned. If you’d like to slip out of the gown now, I’ll have the stitching done in a trice.”

The earl released Theo’s waist. “I’ll tell you the results of my discussion with the farrier later this afternoon, cousin.” He turned to the door.

“No, wait!” Theo jumped off the stool, tripping over the yards of train in her haste. She seized his arm. “He’s such a tricky son of a bitch that—”

“What did you say?” The earl interrupted this impassioned beginning in genuine shock.

“I don’t know. What did I say?” She looked startled.

With astonishment he realized his blunt and unconventional fiancée genuinely didn’t know what he was objecting to. “’Son of a bitch,’ my dear girl, is not appropriate language for the granddaughter of the Earl of Stoneridge, let alone for his wife.”

Theo dismissed this objection with an impatient gesture. “Yes, but you don’t understand. You’re a newcomer and Johnny will think he can fool you. You don’t know what a tricky bastard—”

“Theo!”

“Your pardon, sir.” She tried to look contrite, but her eyes were now alight with mischief. “It keeps slipping out.”

There was something wonderfully absurd about the contrast between the impish grin on Theo’s brown face, the energy coursing through the slender frame, and the demure white lace and flounces of a gown that looked as if it had found its way onto the wrong back.

Sylvester tried and failed to look stern. “Try to put a curb on your tongue in future.”

Theo merely shrugged and said, “Just give me a minute, and I’ll be ready to come with you.” Immediately, she began to pull her wedding dress over her head.

“Theo!” Clarissa squawked, staring at the earl, who still stood in the room. The seamstress, whose priorities were very straightforward, ignored the earl’s presence and rushed to help before Theo’s rough treatment tore the flimsy silk.

Sylvester chuckled. It was so typical of Theo. “I’ll give you five minutes to join me in the stables,” he said through his laughter, striding out of the sewing room before Clarissa’s sense of the proprieties could be further outraged.

“Damnation!” Theo muttered through the yards of filmy gauze train as it was edged over her head. “Be quick, Biddy.”

At last she was free of the confining material. She scram
bled back into her riding habit, grabbed her whip, hat, and gloves from the table, and ran from the room.

“Always in a hurry, Lady Theo is,” the seamstress observed comfortably, gathering up the gown and carrying it to the long sewing table.

Sylvester had his fob watch in his hand as Theo reached the stables, panting, cramming her hat on her head. Dulcie had been saddled and stood placidly beside the earl’s black. The massive gelding was shifting on the cobbles, tossing his head and snorting. It was unusual behavior for the well-behaved Zeus, she thought, before her eye was caught by something much more important.

“Seven minutes,” Sylvester observed. “Not too bad, considering.”

Theo ignored this. She was staring at the sidesaddle on Dulcie’s back. “What’s that?” she demanded. “Where’s my proper saddle?”

“Ah,” Sylvester said. “Cousin, it’s time you started riding like a lady. The Countess of Stoneridge can’t go racketing around the countryside like an itinerant gypsy.”

Theo glanced around the stableyard. Two grooms were busy soaping saddles in the shade of an oak tree. “You have no right to make such a decision for me,” she said in a fierce undertone.

“If you won’t make it for yourself, Theo, then I do have the right,” he said as softly. “In two days you’ll be my wife, and it doesn’t suit my pride to wed a hoydenish romp.”

“Your
pride!” she exclaimed in a whisper. “If it didn’t trouble my grandfather, and it doesn’t bother my mother, what the
hell
right have you to complain? I don’t give a fig for your pride.” Even as she said it, she knew it was a silly challenge, and it was one that Sylvester ignored.

He simply caught her round the waist and lifted her into the saddle. “Let your left knee rest on the—”

“I know how to do it,” she broke in crossly.

“That’s something, I suppose.” He smiled, perfectly happy
to conciliate now that he had her where he wanted her. He still held her on the saddle, however, but Theo had no intention of making a spectacle of herself by jumping down again. She had the uncomfortable conviction that Stoneridge would simply put her back in the saddle, and such a jack-in-the-box display in front of the grooms was not to be considered.

“Let go of me, Stoneridge!” She snatched up the reins, glowering at him.

He held her for a second longer, then nodded and released her, turning to mount the restlessly pawing black.

“Easy, now.” He stroked the animal’s neck as he gathered up the reins and prepared to spring into the saddle. “Easy, fellow. What’s the matter with you?”

“I expect he’s objecting to his rider,” Theo said, wishing she could have come up with a wittier retort.

Sylvester merely chuckled, and his eyes narrowed as he looked up at her. “Shall you object, gypsy? Somehow I doubt it.”

Theo’s jaw dropped as a host of unbidden emotions rushed through her at this wickedly suggestive comment. Her eyes darkened in the telltale manner he’d become accustomed to, and Sylvester laughed aloud, swinging himself into the saddle.

He was barely seated before the black raised his head and snorted, his eyes rolling wildly. Before Sylvester had time to grasp the reins securely and get his other foot into the stirrup, Zeus took off at a headlong gallop, crashing over the cobbles, his head up, nostrils flaring.

Sylvester pulled back on the reins, struggling to find his other stirrup as he fought to keep his seat. The horse jumped the railed fence separating the stable from the pasture, his rider clinging on for dear life, and bolted toward the cornfield on the far side.

Theo was so taken aback that she didn’t immediately move; then she kicked at Dulcie’s flanks and the mare set off in pursuit. Even galloping flat out, there was no way Dulcie could catch the bolting gelding. The black’s speed was terrifying
as he sailed over the hedge separating the fields. Theo could see that Sylvester had both feet in the stirrups now and was lying low on the animal’s neck, gripping the mane as well as the reins, trying to keep his seat.

If he fell from that height at that speed, he’d be lucky not to break his neck, she thought in horror. What could have happened to cause the well-schooled black to bolt? It was all she could do to keep the horse in sight as he careened toward a copse, every now and again rearing up on his hind legs, snorting and bucking violently. Somehow Sylvester stayed on his back.

“Dear God,” she cried silently, knowing the danger that now threatened when the horse crashed into the copse. A low branch, catching his rider across the head or the throat at that speed would fling him from the horse with a broken neck or a fractured skull.

But Sylvester was aware of the danger. He knew Zeus was not simply bolting; he was also trying to unseat him as he bucked and reared. The horse was an intelligent animal and was as aware as his rider of the dangers, of the copse. He charged sideways, intending to smash his rider’s leg against a tree trunk. Sylvester saw it coming and yanked his leg upward as the horse veered to the right. It made his seat even more precarious, and he saw the low branches ahead almost too late to fling himself along the animal’s neck.

His feet were out of the stirrups now, and he couldn’t get them back in. It was all he could do to hang on to the mane. There was only one thing he could do. As Zeus catapulted down the narrow ride, Sylvester reached up, grabbing a branch overhead, hauling himself out of the saddle as the horse charged ahead.

He dropped to the ground, badly shaken but miraculously unhurt. Dulcie came galloping down the ride toward him, Theo white with shock and dread.

“Are you all right?” She drew back on the reins and the
mare hung her head, blowing vigorously after the strenuous ride.

“Just about,” he said. “I couldn’t knot the reins, so I hope to God he doesn’t trip over them and break a leg.”

“What could have happened to him?” Theo dismounted. “I’ve never seen a horse do that before.”

“Certainly not Zeus,” Sylvester agreed. “Is Dulcie up to both our weights?”

“We can’t both ride with a sidesaddle,” she pointed out, not without a hint of satisfaction, despite the grim circumstances.

“We’ll ride bareback,” he said brusquely, moving to unstrap the girths. “Zeus will have run himself out soon, and I have to catch him before he does himself some damage.”

He lifted the saddle from the mare’s back and offered Theo his cupped palms as a mounting block before swinging up behind her, reaching for the reins.

The mare walked wearily through the copse and out into the sunlight of a stretch of gorse-strewn common land. Zeus stood on a small hill, pawing the ground and snorting. His neck and flanks were in a lather, and green foam bubbled around the bit. The reins dangled to the ground, and he had one hoof inside them.

“If he takes off again, he’ll catch his foot,” Theo said, even in her anxiety aware of the powerful body at her back, the earthy scent of his skin, the strength in the arms encircling her.

Stoneridge, however, seemed unaware of her proximity. He dismounted rapidly when they were about ten yards from Zeus. “Stay here, I’ve a better chance of not spooking him if I approach on foot.”

Theo stayed where she was, watching, her heart in her mouth. Zeus lifted his head as the man drew near. He snorted, pawing the earth, his eyes still rolling wildly.

Sylvester spoke softly to him, extending his hand, stepping purposefully toward him. The familiar voice seemed to
pierce the animal’s terror and weariness, and although he tossed his head and blew through his flared nostrils, he didn’t take off.

Sylvester lunged for the reins, grabbing them, and Theo heaved a sigh of relief, trotting over to them.

“Now, let’s have a look at you,” Sylvester said, looping the reins around his wrist, stroking the sweat-lathered neck. The animal whimpered and showed the whites of his eyes.

Theo dismounted and tethered Dulcie to a gorse bush. “There’s blood on his flank,” she said as Sylvester bent to run his hands down the horse’s fetlocks and under his belly, beneath the girth. “It looks as if it’s coming from the saddle.”

Sylvester unstrapped the girths and lifted the saddle away. Zeus snorted and stamped, tossing his head as the leather left his back.

“Dear God!” Sylvester breathed, and Theo gasped in horror. The animal’s back was pouring blood.

Sylvester tossed the saddle to the ground, turning it over. He bent over it and then swore savagely. “Bastards! Vile bastards!”

Theo dropped to her knees beside him, running her hand over the bloody saddle. A line of sharp tacks had been hammered into the leather, so that the minute Sylvester’s weight had dropped onto the saddle, they’d buried themselves agonizingly into the animal’s hide.

“Who could have done such a thing?” Theo stared, horror-struck.

“Some vicious piece of scum in the stables,” he declared. “And, by God, when I find him, I’ll thrash him to within an inch of his life.”

“Of course it’s not someone from our stables,” Theo said, her eyes flashing at this insult to Belmont people. “No one would do such a thing.”

“Someone did,” he stated flatly, twisting out the tacks. “Some rat with a grudge.”

“No!” Theo jumped up. “It’s impossible that one of my people would do such a thing.”

“Your
people!” he said. “Exactly so. People who resent a Gilbraith—”

“No!” she cried again. “It’s impossible for one of the Belmont people to have done such a thing. I’ve known them all since I was a child.”

“My dear girl, you don’t know the first thing about human nature,” he declared. “Your faith is touching, but this was done by someone in the stables; where else could it have been done?”

“I don’t know,” Theo said. “But I
do
know that no one there is that vicious. They wouldn’t hurt a horse in that fashion, even if they did have some kind of a grudge against you. And, anyway, they don’t.”

“I’m well aware of how Belmont people regard a Gilbraith,” he said, his mouth a taut line. “And this is the work of some twisted cur. I will get to the bottom of it if I have to confront every member of the estate.”

“If you accuse someone of doing this ghastly thing, you’ll never be accepted by them,” Theo said, her eyes flaring with the passion of her conviction.

“I’m not interested in acceptance,” he told her. “I’m interested in respect and obedience. And I intend to have both. Someone is going to pay dearly for this. And if I can’t find the culprit, then they’ll all pay.”

He strode back to the horse, now standing quietly on the grass. “Come on, old fellow, let’s get you home.”

Theo bounded after him. “Just you listen to me, Stoneridge. These people are tenants, hardworking farmers, not feudal bondsmen, and they’ll respect you if you respect them. You don’t know them and you have no right … no right at all … to accuse any one of them of such a dastardly act. You have no justification and no right!”

“Get on your horse,” he said, paying no attention to this
tirade. “We’ll lead Zeus and send someone back for both saddles.”

“Are you listening to me?”

“No,” he said, lifting her willy-nilly onto Dulcie and swinging up behind her, taking Zeus’s reins in his free hand. “I quite understand why you would wish to defend these people, it’s perfectly natural. But you’re ignoring reality. I’ve already had several confrontations with people who don’t wish to change their ways, and some spiteful brute clearly thought he would get his own back.”

Theo looked over her shoulder at him with withering contempt. “Obviously, my lord, you don’t have the first idea of how to establish good relations with your tenants. You’ll find, as a result, that you’ll never know any of the important things going on around the estate. If they don’t trust you, they won’t talk to you.”

“I have no particular desire to be talked to,” he stated, tight-lipped. “And trust does not depend on overfamiliarity with villagers and laborers.”