Dear Lady Theodora,
It is with deep regret that I must inform you that nothing and no price could entice me to part with Alabaster. As I’m certain you’re aware, he’s an incomparable horse. I commend you on your knowledge of horseflesh.
Red flashed before Thea’s eyes. She crumpled the letter in her hands, her face heating with undiluted anger. How dare he refuse her and how dare he patronize her while refusing her!
Maggie hurried into the room. “What did he say this time?”
“He refused my offer,” Thea said through clenched teeth.
Maggie cocked her head to the side. “I don’t understand. Didn’t you ask him to name his price?”
“I did!” Thea replied, indignation filling her.
Mag’s face fell. “I’m terribly sorry, Thea. If he refused that offer, he’s clearly intent upon keeping the horse.”
Thea’s nostrils flared. She glared at the odious letter sitting atop her desk. She would not write to him again. The hideous man had left her no choice. She would simply have to pay him a visit.
Chapter Four
Ewan sat behind the desk in his study, intent upon his conversation with Mr. Forrester, who sat in the chair facing him on the other side of the desk. Both men were enjoying a brandy.
“It’s true, my lord,” Forrester said. “I’ve been studying it extensively for years. There is definite scientific evidence that working with animals can cure certain illnesses, including illnesses of the mind. It improves the mental state and can lessen worry and disquiet. The practice was recorded as far back as Roman times. It’s been documented extensively.”
“Precisely why I wanted to work with you, Forrester,” Ewan said, leaning back in his chair.
“Specifically, I’ve worked with men who’ve suffered extreme shocks to their mental states. Just as you’ve described your friend,” Forrester continued.
“Yes, well. It won’t be a simple task to convince him to begin the treatment,” Ewan replied. “Phillip hasn’t spoken a word since he came to live with me last summer.”
“From what I understand, that’s not uncommon, my lord.”
“This horse is my last resort. I’m hoping Phillip will respond well.”
“The Arabian is in perfect condition, my lord. Whoever’s had him since he left Portugal has done an excellent job with his care.”
“I’m glad to hear that at least. I hope to begin—” A knock at the door interrupted Ewan’s thought. He glanced up to see the Humbolt, the butler standing there.
The butler cleared his throat. “Apologies for the interruption, my lord, but you have a visitor.”
Ewan frowned. “A visitor?” He wasn’t expecting anyone, and people rarely visited the countryside in the autumn unless invited to a hunting party or something similar. “Who is it, Mr. Humbolt?”
The butler’s shoulders drew up and he lowered his gaze. “It’s a … er … young lady, my lord.”
Ewan’s frown intensified. “A young lady?” he echoed. “Is she alone?”
“She is, my lord,” Humbolt replied. The servant glanced surreptitiously at Mr. Forrester as if he regretted admitting the somewhat scandalous news in front of the man.
Ewan cocked his head to the side. Who could it possibly be? He didn’t know many young ladies in the area and the ones he did weren’t likely to pay him a visit. He’d never been one for affairs or mistresses, either. All the young ladies he knew were in London, including his soon-to-be betrothed, Lydia. She wouldn’t have come this far to visit and certainly not by herself.
Forrester made as if to stand. “I can go, my lord.”
“No,” Ewan replied, almost too forcefully. “That is to say, I’d like to continue our talk, Forrester.” He turned his attention back to the butler. “Did the young lady give a name, Mr. Humbolt?”
The butler gave Mr. Forrester another nervous glance. “She says her name is Lady Theodora Ballard, my lord.”
Ballard. The name was immediately familiar. Ewan had just received a series of letters from the young woman. She wanted to purchase the Arabian. He’d written back quite clearly refusing and wishing her well. Apparently, she wasn’t one to take no for an answer. He’d never expected her to arrive on his doorstep, however. This was bothersome.
“You say she’s alone, Humbolt?” Ewan clarified.
The butler cleared his throat once more. “A maid accompanied her, my lord, but that young woman appears to be waiting in the carriage for her mistress.”
How curious. Ewan scratched at his jaw. He’d actually done a bit of research on the girl. She was Lord Anthony Ballard’s sister. Unmarried as far as Ewan was aware. Unmarried and on the shelf if the rumors he uncovered were to be believed. Apparently, she hoped her arrival on his doorstep would cause him to change his mind about selling the horse. First, she was sorely mistaken. He would never change his mind. Second, he didn’t have time to deal with a spoiled spinster who wouldn’t take no for an answer. A bit of anger flared in his chest.
Ewan sighed. “Please tell Lady Theodora that I am otherwise occupied.”
“Are you certain, my lord?” Humbolt asked, his gray eyebrow arching.
“Are you questioning my decision, Humbolt?” Ewan frowned again. It was quite unlike Humbolt not to immediately carry out his orders.
Humbolt’s face flushed. “Not at all, my lord. It’s just that …” He straightened his shoulders, clearly searching for the correct words to use. “She seems the sort who won’t leave readily, my lord.”
This time Ewan arched a brow. “If she refuses to leave, Humbolt, alert me immediately. I’ll ensure she goes.” His jaw was tight.
“As you wish, my lord.” Humbolt bowed and retreated from the room.
Ewan returned his attention to the horse trainer. “My apologies for the interruption, Forrester. Now, where were we?”
But as the man spoke, Ewan’s mind wandered back to his conversation with Humbolt and the letters he’d exchanged with Lady Theodora Ballard. He’d got the distinct impression from her letters that she would not be happy with his refusal to sell the horse. He’d also considered how much she must want the horse if she’d been willing to pay the exorbitant amount that he’d paid for it. Her brother had obviously been betting on the horse for his sister. But if Ballard had had the money, why hadn’t he won the auction? Ewan had just assumed the price had gone too high for the son of the earl. Something about the entire situation didn’t seem right.
Ewan could well understand Lady Theodora’s disappointment, but he had no intention of selling the horse to her. And it wouldn’t do for her reputation for him to entertain her alone either. He was doing her a favor by refusing to take her call. Besides, he could just imagine the chit crying and begging him to sell the horse to her. He wasn’t about to have to share his handkerchief and be subjected to such dramatics. No, much better to send her along her way without the hope that he might someday relent.
As Forrester continued to speak, however, Ewan couldn’t seem to banish the matter from his mind. The young woman clearly was overly confident, or she wouldn’t have arrived on his doorstep unannounced after he’d been clear in his letters that he had no intention of selling the Arabian.
“And so, you see, my lord, I think we have as good a chance as any with the treatment,” Forrester was saying when Ewan began to listen again.
“Good, good,” Ewan replied absently, while the picture of what Lady Theodora Ballard must look like played through his imagination. She was a spinster so no doubt she was homely, or perhaps it was a strident personality that had prevented her from finding a match. He vaguely remembered seeing her at her father’s estate years ago, but she’d merely been a girl then. He had hardly any memory of the chit.
Mr. Forrester continued to speak as Ewan shifted in his chair. Blast. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about the audacity of the young woman who was even now being ejected from his drawing room?
As if his body was acting separately from his mind, Ewan stood.
“Excuse me, for a moment, Forrester. I’ll return shortly.”
Ewan took ground-devouring strides toward the drawing room. He told himself the entire time that if she were already gone, he would not go out to the drive to see if he could catch a glimpse of her. After all, he had no intention of rewarding her rude behavior by taking her call. No. He just wanted to … see her. For some reason, he felt an overwhelming desire to put a face with her name. He told himself it was in order to know if he ever encountered her in the future, whether it was in town at the market or even back in London. He needed to know who he’d refused and turned away in case they were ever to meet face-to-face again.
As he approached the door of the drawing room, Ewan let out a pent-up breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding as he heard Humbolt speaking in a loud, clear voice. “Be that as it may, my lady, Viscount Clayton was quite clear that he is unable to take your call.”
“Did you tell him how far I’ve traveled?” a distinctly piqued female voice replied sharply.
Ewan lifted his brows. Just as Humbolt had said, this young woman clearly wasn’t leaving without some resistance. Normally, such audacity would have earned her a swift visit from him and some harsh words as he escorted her to the door, but now it only served to make him more curious to see her face.
“I told the viscount your name, my lady. I’ve no idea if he’s aware of your address,” Humbolt was saying.
Ewan strode up to the door and, remaining at least two steps away, peered inside the crack that Humbolt had left.
She stood in front of the settee. She wore a matching pelisse over a gown of light green. Long white gloves, small leather traveling boots, and a bonnet of the latest fashion with a wide green ribbon tied beneath her chin. She was slender and tall, and her hair was dark and swept beneath the hat. Her profile revealed a pretty enough face, but it wasn’t until she turned toward the door, with narrowed eyes, that he saw the glint of steel in the gray of her eyes. She was absolutely stunning. There was no other way to describe her. Stunning, and angry, with one of the most determinedly set jaws he’d ever seen on a female. No wonder Humbolt had been worried she wouldn’t leave quietly. There was clearly nothing quiet about this woman.
Those steel-gray eyes flashed with fire as if a blacksmith had struck an anvil and made a spark deep within them. Ewan eyed her carefully. She might be gorgeous, but he had no intention of selling the horse to her or anyone.
“Well, I’m sorry to say that’s not good enough for me, Mr. Humbolt,” came the young lady’s overly confident, self-assured voice. “I have no intention of leaving until I’ve spoken to the viscount.”
Humbolt’s voice replied firm and calm. “I’m sorry, my lady, but that is quite impossible—”
“I’ll wait,” the lady replied sharply and plopped back down upon the settee, settling her gloved hands into her lap.
That was it. This could not stand. Ewan kicked open the door with the toe of his boot and stepped inside.
“Not entirely impossible, Humbolt. Here I am, and I have a few things I’d like to say to our guest.”
Chapter Five
When Ewan stepped into the room, his gaze locked with Lady Theodora’s. Anger flashed in her eyes, but there was something else there, too. Triumph. Given his presence she no doubt believed she’d won.
“My lord,” Humbolt said as he bowed and took his leave. Ewan knew the man would not go far in the event Ewan required his assistance.
Lady Theodora gave the butler a tight (but still triumphant) smile on his way out.
Ewan set his jaw, but remembered his manners. “My lady.” His tone was hardly pleasant, but he managed a gentlemanly bow. “It’s been many years. A pleasure to see you again.”
They both knew the ‘pleasure’ bit was a lie, but manners were manners.
She lifted her chin. “Unfortunately, I don’t recall our first meeting, my lord. Thank you for the honor of your time.” Sarcasm dripped from her lips.
“As I’m certain Mr. Humbolt informed you, I’m otherwise occupied with a guest in another room. What can I do to help you, my lady?” His smile was tight and fake.
She looked momentarily flustered as if she hadn’t expected to get this far and therefore wasn’t entirely prepared for what she intended to say next. But her dismay was quickly replaced with a gleam in her eyes, a gleam that made Ewan immediately wary.
She folded her hands together in front of her. Her matching green reticule, which he’d previously missed, swung from her wrist. She wasted no time getting precisely to her point. “I would like to purchase Harlowe’s Arabian from you.”
He pressed his lips together tightly before replying. “I am aware. The answer is no.”
Frustration and a hint of anger flittered across her pretty face. “May we not discuss it?” He could tell she was doing her best to sound friendly. He could almost laugh at her poor attempt. He would laugh, in fact, if he wasn’t so angry that she was wasting his time.
Ewan clasped his hands together behind his back. “There’s nothing to discuss. I thought I made myself clear in my last letter. I regret that you wasted your time traveling here.”
She lifted her chin even higher. “I came here to discuss the terms.”
He clenched his jaw. By God, this woman was stubborn. “There will be no terms. The Arabian is not for sale. Now if you’ll just—” He turned to escort her toward the door.
“He’s my horse.” Her harsh voice seemed to crack against the wall of the room.
Ewan turned back toward her and gave her a patient smile. “On the contrary, he’s mine.”
She pulled so tightly on the strings to her reticule that Ewan was certain they would snap. “Why do you refuse to bargain?” she asked, doing her best to attempt a smile again. “You haven’t even heard my offer yet.”
Ewan crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to the side. He regarded her down the side of his nose. There was something commanding about this young woman’s presence. Something that made him want to hear what she said next. Even if the answer would always be no.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” he began, “but why is it that you’re here to discuss the matter of the horse’s sale, instead of say, your brother or your father?”
“I do mind you asking,” she replied, blinking her long dark eyelashes at him. That false smile was still pinned to her face. “But the answer is, if I want something done correctly, I do it myself.”
“Is that so?” Ewan asked. No wonder the chit was still on the shelf. What sane man would want to deal with her demands and waspish temper?
“Indeed,” she replied, inclining her head to the side. “If I’d been allowed in that auction house to begin with the horse would already be mine.”
Ewan continued to watch her. He’d never known a young lady to be so certain of herself or so aggressive. Most of the young ladies of his acquaintance simpered and giggled into their handkerchiefs and feigned fainting. He was positive Lady Theodora hadn’t fainted once in her life. He had to know. “Lady Theodora, may I ask you a question?”
“Certainly,” she replied, her shoulders relaxing a hint. He could tell she was still trying to seem friendly in the hopes that he might still sell her the horse. She was sorely mistaken, but he’d take the false niceties as long as he could get them.
“Have you ever … fainted?” He narrowed his eyes on her.
She drew up her shoulders tight again. “Certainly not. Fainting is for simpering nitwits.”
He nodded, doing his best to hide his smile. “Somehow I knew you would say that.”
“Allow me to keep you from wasting anymore of your precious time, my lord, or mine,” she said next. She took a deep breath and her nostrils flared. “I know how much you paid for the horse. Surely you have regrets.”
His brows shot up. Well, that comment had certainly been direct. “Not one, actually,” he replied, grinning at her. He didn’t know what her game was, but she certainly wasn’t about to
win her argument by telling him he’d been a fool for paying so much for the Arabian.
She narrowed her eyes on him. “No one’s has ever paid that much for a horse.”
“They have now,” he replied simply.
“Even Pegasus, the son descended directly from of one of the original Arabians didn’t sell for that much at Tattersall’s two years ago,” she pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest.
He eyed her carefully. “You seem to know quite a lot about horses and their prices.”
“Believe me, I do,” she replied. “I’ve studied the subject extensively. I’ve had my eye on the papers and auction prices for years. Ever since Alabaster was stolen from me.”
“Stolen?” Ewan’s brows shot up once again. “I hadn’t heard the horse had ever been stolen.”
She cleared her throat. “Well, perhaps he wasn’t officially stolen, but my father took him from me and sold him to the Duke of Harlowe without my consent four years ago.”
Ewan refrained from pointing out that any horse of hers was hers at her father’s discretion. They both knew it. There was little need to say it. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said instead. “He’s a fine horse. But allow me not to waste anymore of your precious time, my lady. I have no intention of selling the Arabian. There is no amount of money that would sway my decision.”
Her jaw momentarily dropped open. “What? Why, that’s unreasonable.”
Another patient smile. “I prefer to call it decisive.”
Panic sparked in her eyes. She glanced wildly around the room before saying, “What if I offered you double?”
Ewan arched a brow. “Double? Double what I paid at auction? Are you quite certain you’re aware of the amount?”
Her eyes narrowed nearly to slits. “I’m not an imbecile or a child, my lord. I’m quite aware of the purchase price and I know the value of coin.”
Ewan pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. She had spunk, this young lady. He had to give her that much. She didn’t appear to be afraid of anyone or anything and she certainly knew precisely what she wanted. “Forgive me for asking, my lady, but are you currently in possession of that amount of money?”
Save a Horse, Ride a Viscount Page 3
