He remained crouched, alert but entirely calm, as he watched the window creak open, and the shoulders and torso of the intruder emerge. The culprit was wearing a dark cap and a black shirt with an equally dark neckcloth. No wonder the stablehands hadn’t been able to see him in the meadow. As the form emerged through the window, Ewan also saw dark breeches and dark boots. He couldn’t make out a face, however.
Ewan waited until the intruder was perched atop the windowsill and poised to jump to the ground inside of the stables. “Evening,” he drawled, ready to pounce if the intruder tried to escape back through the window.
Instead, his voice startled the thief. The lad wobbled on the sill and fell, hitting the ground with a loud thump. The distinctive sound of a bone cracking made Ewan wince.
A half groan, half whimper came from the slight form lying on the ground. Ewan could tell the thief was doing his best not to cry out, but Ewan was certain whoever this intruder was had just broken a leg.
Ewan cursed under his breath and lit the lantern he’d hidden behind a nearby blanket. The area lit up. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?” he asked. He knelt down and reached for the culprit’s leg to take a look.
“Don’t touch me,” came a slight, but extremely certain voice.
Ewan pulled his hand away. Based on the voice alone, he still wasn’t certain if the intruder was a lad or Lady Theodora. “Who are you?” he asked. “And what are you doing here?”
“That’s none o’ yer affair,” the culprit said. If it was Lady Theodora, she was obviously doing her best to disguise her voice.
“On the contrary,” Ewan replied, “it’s entirely my affair. You see, I own this entire estate and if you don’t want me to call the constable, I’ll thank you to tell me why you’ve been breaking into my stables.”
The thief tried to jump up, presumably to run, but quickly fell to the ground again with an agonized, distinctly ladylike whimper. “Call the constable, then,” the small form replied defiantly.
Ewan sat back on his heels and regarded her for a moment. Apparently, she wasn’t frightened of the constable. Or if she was, she was certainly doing a fine job of maintaining her bravado. Pain was etched on the small mouth, but the culprit’s cap was pulled down so low and her chin was tucked down so tightly that Ewan couldn’t be entirely certain it was Lady Theodora.
But there was one way to find out.
“Very well, what if I call the doctor instead? To look at that leg,” Ewan said next.
“No!” she shouted. The voice was distinctly ladylike again. He knew if it was Lady Theodora, she’d be much more worried about a doctor than the constable. The doctor might ask her to take off her breeches.
“Who are you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on her.
She clenched her jaw and didn’t reply.
“Very well, you leave me no choice,” Ewan said. “I’m carrying you to the house and summoning the doctor.”
“What? No!” She tried to stand again and promptly fell back to the ground.
“You don’t have a knife on you, do you?” he asked, certain she didn’t, but cautious just the same.
“No,” she nearly shouted.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t quite take your word for it?” he asked as he began patting down her sides.
She squealed before nearly shouting, “Unhand me, you rogue.”
Oh, yes. This was definitely Lady Theodora.
Certain of his prey, Ewan broke off his search of her pockets. “Very well, let’s go.” He brooked no argument. Instead, he left the lantern sitting on the dirt floor and scooped her up into his arms, doing his best not to hurt her leg, which he cradled. Despite his best efforts, she winced and whimpered, but he could tell she was doing her best to be brave. Grown men with broken legs would have carried on more than she was doing at the moment. It was somewhat surprising.
The moment he had her in his arms, Ewan was even more certain it was Lady Theodora herself and no young lad. First, she smelled like a woman, a hint of perfume hit his nostrils. No boy smelled anything close to that good. Second, the softness of her body gave her away along with the fact that when he pressed her to him—which, of course he did on purpose—he felt the distinctive outline of a breast through her shirt.
He cursed under his breath again. What had this chit been thinking? A broken leg was the least of her worries. Mr. Hereford might well have shot her.
Ewan stalked toward the house with her in his arms. He was silent and so was she other than the occasional futile attempt to squirm out of his arms. She was obviously not happy with his decision to take her to the house, but what alternative had she left him? And what did she possibly think she would do if she made it out of his arms? She couldn’t even limp away if her leg was broken as badly as he suspected.
She was brave. He would give her that. Her jaw was tightly clenched against the ungodly amount of pain she had to be in, and her arms were locked tightly around his neck, another indication that she was a woman. No lad would be gripping him for dear life. Every once in a while, the moon hit her face in an angle where Ewan could see the sweat beaded on her brow. She might be pretending otherwise, but she was frightened.
Ewan had to handle this carefully. He knew it was her, but it could possibly cause a scandal if the servants found out who the intruder was. Loose lips in the ranks of servants certainly weren’t unheard of. As he stalked toward the house, he made the decision that he would only summon a trusted few. Otherwise, he would keep the entire affair quiet until the doctor arrived and treated her leg. That was the right thing to do. Then he would send her discreetly back to her father’s estate, where she would hopefully stay and stop plaguing him and his horses.
Ewan carried her into a side door of the house, through several corridors and into his study. They’d have privacy here. He set her on a large leather sofa that sat in front of a wall of windows before summoning Humbolt. Humbolt was the soul of discretion. He would ensure only a few trusted servants were aware of this incident.
When Humbolt arrived at the door to the study minutes later, Ewan saw the butler glance at the intruder before Ewan motioned for him to speak to him in the corridor. He closed the door behind him.
Humbolt’s eyes were wide. “You caught the horse thief, my lord?”
“Yes, and I’ve reason to suspect he’s broken his leg. Please send a footman to fetch Dr. Blanchard from town. Choose a footman who will not gossip about this. Ask him to tell the doctor to come immediately.”
“Of course, my lord.” Humbolt bowed and disappeared into the corridor to carry out his orders.
Ewan took a deep breath and re-entered the study. Lady Theodora was sitting up, her arms braced behind her on the sofa, wincing and staring at her broken right leg as if it had betrayed her.
Ewan grabbed a pillow from the far end of the sofa and carefully propped it under her sore leg. She winced and let out a barely audible whimper.
“I broke my leg once when I was a boy,” Ewan offered. “Godawful pain. You’re being quite brave.”
His comment was met with stony silence.
“The doctor is on the way,” Ewan offered next. But before she could deliver a pert reply, he said, “Would you care for a drink?” He moved over to the sideboard and poured some brandy into a glass.
“No,” she shot back.
Ewan cocked his head to the side. “You may want to reconsider. You’re sure to be in even more pain when the shock wears off. A drink might well help.”
She must have seen the reason in that because she quickly replied. “Fine. I’ll take it. Thank ye.”
Ewan poured another glass for her and walked over and handed it to her. She took it silently and lifting the glass to her lips, took a sip. She winced again. “This tastes like poison.”
He fought his chuckle. He had to wonder if she’d ever had brandy before. Probably not. “I assure you, it’s not poison. On the contrary, a duke gave me this brandy. It’s quite rare.”
“Rare and
tasty are two different things,” she mumbled under her breath, making Ewan smile again. How long would she keep up the charade that she was a boy? He wanted to find out.
“Are you going to tell me why you’ve been trying to steal my horse?” he ventured.
“I was not stealing!” she insisted before taking another larger swig of brandy. She winced again, wrinkled up her nose and shook her head.
“Then why are you sneaking into my stables at night?” Ewan continued.
His question was met with defiant silence.
Ewan watched her carefully as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. He’d taken a seat across from her in a large dark blue upholstered chair that sat at right angles across from the sofa.
She squirmed under his regard and clenched her jaw. He could only imagine the pain she was in. He regretted that he’d scared her enough to cause her to injure herself, but it was frankly one of the kindest things that could have happened to her. Far better than being shot by his stablemaster. And perhaps her leg being broken would put an end to her midnight escapades.
“What is your name?” he ventured.
She swallowed and lowered her chin. But she didn’t say a word. He could barely see the shadow of her face. The dark cap was still pulled so far down over her eyes that he couldn’t see her features. He took in the rest of her clothing in the light. In addition to her dark breeches, her dark shirt was wrinkled, but both items of clothing looked new and all of it was far too clean to be on the back of an underaged male thief.
Ewan took another sip of brandy. “If you won’t tell me your name, will you tell the doctor when he arrives? I have to send you back home somewhere.”
She struggled against the sofa and pushed herself up on her hands as if to stand. “I don’t need a surgeon. I intend ta leave.” She made it all the way up to a standing position, bracing herself on her good leg, and hopping a bit, but the moment she attempted even one step onto her right leg, she collapsed.
Ewan lunged from his seat and caught her before she hit the floor. He carefully laid her back onto the sofa and repositioned her hurt leg with the pillow again. “I hope you’ll see the reason in not attempting that again. You may as well stay and get your leg examined by the doctor,” he said, keeping up the ruse. “Besides, I fear you have little choice.”
“I will not stay here,” she said, attempting to stand yet again.
That was it. Ewan needed to put an end to this little charade before she hurt herself even worse. The chit was more stubborn that anyone he’d ever met, and given the men he’d faced in Parliament over the years, that was saying something. “I think you have a much more pressing concern,” Ewan told her.
She lifted her chin and for the first time he saw her bright gray eyes flash in the candlelight. “Wot’s that?”
“How in the world you intend to convince a doctor that you’re a lad, Lady Theodora.” And with that, Ewan reached down and plucked the cap off her head. Dark brown hair tumbled over her shoulders.
Chapter Eleven
How in the devil had he known it was her? Thea’s skin flashed hot and cold. The room spun. She clutched the only thing she had in her hands, which was the glass of brandy Lord Clayton had given her. She lifted it to her lips and downed the entire contents in one gulp, sputtering and choking as the liquid burned its way down her throat.
Viscount Clayton’s laughter filled the air. “Now that was the first clever thing you’ve done all evening,” he said as he reached out and took the empty glass from her.
“What do you want from me?” Thea asked, as she tried to put her breathing back to rights. She abandoned the pretense of changing her voice to sound like a lad.
Lord Clayton cocked his head to the side and regarded her while taking a sip from his still full brandy glass. “You’ve got it wrong. The question is, what do you want from me? I’m not the one who’s been trying to steal your horse.”
“No,” she grumbled, “you already stole him.”
Lord Clayton’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon. I purchased that horse fairly at auction and we both know it. I’m sorry that you were disappointed, but—”
She plunked her hands on her hips. “Are you sorry that you caused me to break my leg?”
His brows shot up. “If you weren’t trying to steal my horse, your leg wouldn’t be broken.”
“I was not trying to steal anything,” she insisted.
Lord Clayton cocked his head to the side. “What were you doing in the stables then? Just visiting?”
“Yes, actually.”
That stopped him. For the first time since he’d been in her presence, he was at a loss for words. “You cannot be serious,” he finally managed.
“You don’t understand. He’s my horse. I owned him when he was a foal. My father sold him. I—”
“Sometimes men have to do things for certain reasons that—”
Thea held up a hand. “Spare me, please. You don’t know anything about why my father sold the horse.” That was it. She wasn’t about to try to explain anything further to Lord Clayton. He didn’t care about her past. He didn’t care about the fact that her father had sold both horses without even asking Thea or her mother. Lord Clayton certainly didn’t care that she loved the horse. She’d already tried to tell him as much.
“You’re right,” Lord Clayton allowed. “I don’t know.”
Thea refused to be mollified by him. “As far as I’m concerned, you left me no other choice. You refused to sell him to me, Lord Clayton, you even refused to let me see him. I had to do something.”
Clayton rubbed his chin and contemplated her for a moment. “May I ask you something about the horse, Lady Theodora?”
She tossed an impatient hand in the air. “Very well.”
“Are you the one who named him Alabaster?”
“I did,” she said, staring briefly unseeing at the carpet, remembering the day she’d first seen the perfect baby horse. He’d been such a fine foal.
“Why did you name him that?” Clayton asked. “The horse is dark as night.”
The side of her mouth quirked up. “Precisely why it’s the perfect name. Or does irony confuse you, my lord?” She blinked her lashes at him.
He shook his head and chuckled. “Has anyone ever told you, you have the tongue of a wasp?”
“Has anyone ever told you, you have the manners of a boar?”
“No. I suppose we’re even.” He shook his head again.
Thea lifted her chin. “I would like to go home, my lord. I have a pony tied in the tree line. If you would please have a footman fetch him, I will be on my way.”
“You cannot ride a pony home with a broken leg and even if you could, I wouldn’t allow it. It’s not safe out there at night for a female alone.”
“I’ve traveled on my own before,” she shot back. How dare this man try to tell her what to do?
“This conversation is ridiculous. You’re dressed as a lad, lying on my sofa with a broken leg, and you want me to hand over a pony so you can ride home and act as if none of this had ever happened.”
“Yes,” she replied with a nod. “That’s precisely what I want.”
“Then you’re either inebriated or mad.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m neither.”
“Let me be clear, Lady Theodora, despite the fact that you’ve been nothing but a bother to me the past few weeks, I’m not about to send you off into the night with a broken leg.”
Thea’s mind raced. What were her options? If she stayed, she’d surely have to admit who she was to Dr. Blanchard. What would the doctor say? How could she possibly explain her state? If word were to get out that she’d been found alone, dressed as a lad at Lord Clayton’s estate, her reputation would be in tatters. Worse, her brother’s reputation would be in tatters.
However, Clayton was maddeningly correct in that it was ludicrous to expect that she would be able to ride her pony off into the night and pretend none of this had happened. Her l
eg was throbbing, and she couldn’t so much as take one step, let alone mount a horse. Blast. Blast. Blast. Why hadn’t she left well enough alone after seeing Alabaster twice?
In addition, Maggie would be worried about her. It was already past time that Thea should have returned home. Her friend would be pacing the bedchamber worrying that Thea had been shot.
Furthermore, Thea could hardly ask that a footman take a note to her home for Maggie. That would wake the servants in her household and the story would eventually get back to her father.
Thea reluctantly lifted her gaze to Lord Clayton. Under the circumstances, he was being surprisingly kind. “I didn’t mean to be a bother,” she grumbled, feeling not only petulant but foolish for having made such a mess of her intentions and a bit guilty for telling him he had the manners of a boar.
Lord Clayton lowered his voice, contemplating the liquid in his glass. “I should have allowed you to see the horse. I didn’t realize how much it meant to you.”
Thea sucked in her breath slightly. In a hundred years she wouldn’t have expected the detestable Lord Clayton to admit he’d been wrong. She hung her head. But the truth was she’d been wrong too. She took a deep breath. This would not be pleasant to say, “I’m sorry I sneaked into your stables like a thief.”
The hint of a smile quirked his lips and he looked downright … oh, for heaven’s sake, handsome. She quickly pushed the thought from her traitorous mind.
“Don’t worry,” he continued. “I intend to keep this entire debacle as quiet as possible. At the moment only my butler is aware that you’re here and he thinks you’re a lad. Dr. Blanchard will have to know, of course, but we can trust him to remain silent on the matter. As soon as your leg is set, I’ll have my coach put to and my servants will take you back to your father’s estate as discreetly as possible.”
Thea nodded slowly. That was all certainly good of him. Unexpected, but appreciated. Perhaps she might actually get back home with little fanfare or at least as little as could be expected, given the circumstances.
Save a Horse, Ride a Viscount Page 6
