by Gill, Tamara
Anger simmered in her blood, and even by the time she trotted into Tuttle Farm’s yard, her temper had not waned. She spotted Mr. Tuttle lunging a horse in the lunging yard and walked her mount up to the fence, waiting for him to notice her.
His look of contrition told her he knew exactly why she’d come.
“How could you, Mr. Tuttle? You had an agreement with my father that still stands with me,” she demanded, forgoing all pleasantries.
The older gentleman yelled out for a nearby stable lad to take the rope and whip and walked over to the fence. He seemed to have aged in the last few months since she’d seen him. As she looked down at his gray, receding hairline and whiskers to match, a little of her temper eased.
“I had no choice, Miss Ava. In fact, if you do not purchase your foal back from me, you’ll be buying her back at auction.”
She frowned. “What is wrong, Mr. Tuttle? Has something happened to force you to sell Titan and Beatrice?”
He sighed, his shoulders slumping at the words. “It has, my dear. I don’t mind telling you as our families have known each other for many years, but I made a bad investment last year and, well, it’ll cost me the farm. We’re preparing to move to Bath where my wife, Rose, has family. Selling Titan, at least, enabled me to pay off the most pressing debt. With the sale of the house, the land, together with the horses of course, we may have a little left over to keep us for a few years in reasonably comfortable conditions.” He met her gaze, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Ava. I know how much you wanted Titan’s bloodline.”
Forgetting about the horse, she said, “Can I help at all? Is there anything that I can do to ease the debt and enable you to stay? These stables have been in your family for three generations. I would hate to see you lose it all.”
“Well,” he said, looking about his property, the love he had for his land evident in his gray orbs. “When one makes a mistake, one must own it. I’m just sorry that my wife and my children will lose all that we’ve worked so hard to build. And I thank you, Miss Ava, but I cannot accept your generous offer. It wouldn’t be right.”
She nodded, wanting to press, but Mr. Tuttle had always been a proud man. To force him into anything had never worked before and she could not see it changing now. And she did not want to part having argued with him, even if she wanted so very much to help. “Very well, but do let me know if I can support you in any way. Or if there is something you do not want to be sold off to anyone else that maybe I can purchase. At least you’ll know who has it and that it’ll be loved.”
“You’re a good girl. And know that I would never have reneged on our deal if I could help it. There really was no other way around it.”
Ava adjusted her seat, watching the horse that was being lunged who seemed quite interested in their conversation instead of doing what it was supposed to be doing. “May I ask whom you sold Titan to? Maybe I can negotiate with them.”
He looked down at his feet, shuffling them a little.
“Mr. Tuttle,” she ventured when he didn’t reply.
“As to that, my dear. Well, that is to say…”
What was wrong with the man? “Mr. Tuttle, tell me. Surely, it is not a secret.”
He met her gaze and, for a moment, she wondered if he had been sworn to secrecy. Surely not?
“The Duke of Whitstone purchased Titan, Miss Ava. I heard from your father, you see, all about your family falling out with them and, well, I’m sorry that for you to have Titan cover your mare you’ll have to go through his grace.”
Her hands shook at the mention of him and she clasped the reins tight, anger simmering in her veins at having heard his name. Even after all these years. “Why did you sell it to him? I could’ve matched the price you wanted.”
He shook his head, again shuffling his feet like a naughty school child. “He came here only yesterday and offered cash. I’ve had money lenders down my back for weeks, so I took it without thinking. I’m sorry, Ava. But I had to think of my family.”
Damn it! “I understand,” she said, unable to hide the disappointment in her tone. The Duke of Whitstone could be a persuasive gentleman from what she understood. The stories she’d heard about Tate in London did not resemble the boy she’d once loved. If anything, he now sounded like a man who only sought pleasure and cared for little. In the year since she’d been back in England, he’d not once called to apologize for his treatment of her all those years ago.
Ava turned her horse, preparing to leave. “Do come by before you leave, Mr. Tuttle. Bring your family and we shall have tea and cakes. I am disappointed about the horse, but I’m more disappointed you’ve been placed in this situation. I wish it were not so.”
He tipped his hat, bowing a little. “You’re very generous, Miss Ava, and we shall call around to say our farewells.”
“Very good.” Ava waved and started toward home. She kicked her mount into a gallop and swore. Damn the duke and his interfering ways. If only she’d heard of Mr. Tuttle’s struggles earlier, she might have been able to help him, or purchase the horse instead of the duke doing so. In her estimation, the duke was not worthy of such high standard of horse.
She could not face having to deal with him either for that matter. That he had not called was a blessing, for she certainly had not wanted to see him and his ugly, lying heart.
But it did not solve how she would gain access to Titan for her breeding program. It was a dilemma she hadn’t thought she’d have to cross. But the stallion was paramount to supplementing her bloodlines, possibly siring future winners, and enabling the farm to prosper and never have to face the same fate that Mr. Tuttle has had to.
To give up on her dream to become the best and most esteemed breeding and racing stable in England wouldn’t do. She’d given up previously on things she’d wanted, marriage and a family with a man she’d thought loved her, but she wouldn’t in this regard. The duke would not take this away from her as well. She would send her manager, Greg, over to the ducal property and have him negotiate if at all possible.
And with any good fortune, the whole breeding program could be accomplished without his grace or her having to step one foot near each other. Just as she preferred.
* * *
Tate Wells, the Duke of Whitstone, leaned back in his leather-bound chair behind his desk and steepled his fingers as he listened to the Knight Stables’ manager lay out the suggested terms for allowing Miss. Ava Knight access to his prized runner, Titan.
Not that he would tell the old man, who was as loyal to Ava as her own father had been prior to his death, that hell would have to freeze over before he’d allow her anywhere near his property or Titan. It had been five years since he’d seen or thought of the woman, and he wasn’t about to start now.
He shifted on his chair, his mind mocking him for the lie that was. Hell, he thought of her often. Hoped she was well and happy. Even when he went down to the local inn and had a tankard of ale, his ears would always prick up with the mention of Knight Stables and the mistress who ran the successful horseracing farm.
Even so, he would never forgive her for having him sent away. His being in America had stopped him from saying goodbye to his father. By the time news of his father’s illness, two years ago now, had arrived in America his departure for England had already been too late. He’d arrived in Berkshire two weeks after his father had been placed in the family mausoleum.
Another hurt he could lay at Ava’s door. Or Miss. Knight, whose soul was as black as a moonless night.
“Therefore, you see, Your Grace, it would be beneficial if we were to have Titan cover our mare, Black Lace. Miss. Knight is willing to pay handsomely for the service and I, along with your own head trainer, can organize all the particulars regarding the horses so you and Miss. Knight need not be disturbed.”
Tate met the older gentleman’s gray gaze, his eyes a little watery with age. So, Ava didn’t wish to see him, did she? Well, there at least was one part of the agreement on which
they could concur. A small part of his heart ached at the notion that she wanted nothing to do with him. Her severing of their relationship, of leaving England had been so different from the girl he’d once known. There was a time when they could not be kept apart, when every hour, every minute was spent together.
Tate shook the unhelpful thought aside. “I’m not interested in breeding Titan at present. We’re looking to have him race in Ascot next year, which I need not remind you is less than eight months away. I do not need the horse taxing himself if it’s not necessary.”
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but horses run and tax themselves daily. To breed the horse will be no more vigorous than training.”
Which was true, not that Tate was going to abide by those rules. And he liked the idea of Ava not getting what she wanted. She had ripped his hopes for his future from beneath him. Marrying the woman he loved, respected and adored, not simply a woman who was considered suitable to become a duchess. “It is too much for my horse and I’ll not allow it. Please tell Miss. Knight to look for another stallion elsewhere for her breeding program.”
The older gentleman wrung his cap in his hands. If this deal was so very important to Ava, why hadn’t she come and asked him herself? He’d taken great pains in not running into her here in Berkshire and, so far, he’d been successful in his plan.
To know that she was back from France, had been for a year, it was nigh on improbable that they’d not run into each other thus far, even at race meetings and such. Tate thought on it a moment and wondered if she, too, was avoiding him as much as he avoided her.
He stood. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Mr. Brown, but my decision on this is final. Please let Miss. Knight know.” He held out his hand. “Good day to you, sir,” he said, ending the conversation.
Mr. Brown stood his shoulders slumped. Tate felt for the man. He would now have to go back and face Ava. It was certainly not something even Tate would enjoy. At least, when he’d known her well all those years ago, she had been determined as much as opinionated. Two traits he’d once adored about her. They had been friends before he’d fallen head over boots in love with her. She had never backed down on a subject if she thought he was incorrect with his thinking, going to great pains to make him see the sense in her judgement. Her determination, her fierce brown eyes alight with fire when she spoke of making Knight’s stables the best known in England and with Tate by her side. Ava had always expected the best of people. What a shame she was not able to live up to her own standard.
Mr. Brown shook his hand. “Thank you for your time, Your Grace. Good day to you.”
Tate watched him leave. He sat back in his chair, leaning back, thinking on who Miss. Knight was today. That she’d not come here and asked herself for the use of Titan was telling, indeed. It seemed all their association of years past meant very little to her. That they were truly strangers.
Not that such a realization surprised Tate. The day she’d sent a missive telling him she would not marry him had been enough to tell him exactly what Miss. Knight thought of him. Of how much she’d lied and teased his boyish ideals.
Tate ran a hand over his jaw. Even with all that had passed between them, all the hurts, he couldn’t help but wonder if she still looked the same. Did she still have long locks that were as rich as chocolate? Were her eyes as brown and wide? Were her cheekbones as high, or had they filled out a little with age?
The clock chimed the hour and, picking up his quill, he pulled the estate paperwork before him and started to check the finance ledgers for the stables and his tenant farms. What did it matter how much she’d changed? He’d changed, too, moved on.
The past two years as duke, he’d been lax in attending to the running of his estates, but no more. It was time he ensured the people who lived off his lands were well cared for. That his racing stable here in Berkshire grew and prospered as he’d always wanted. To make his stables better than the Knights’ three miles from here was a good enough motivation to be here instead of town. And with Titan in his stables, he already had the upper hand in moving his plans forward.
Tate pushed thoughts of Ava from his mind, just as she’d thrown him away without a backward glance. No-one who was so disloyal and self-centered deserved a minute of his time. Not ever again.
Chapter 2
Ava pushed her horse into a gallop, the roofline of Cleremore Hall, named when the family only had the marquessate emerged from the trees. In only a few moments, she would see Tate again. Be once more in the hallowed halls of the Duke of Whitstone’s home. It had been years since she’d ridden this close to his estate, and nerves pooled in her stomach at the thought of seeing him again.
Had he changed as much as she? Five years was a long time, and he’d been away in America for three of them. She supposed that could change someone very much, make them more worldly, knowledgeable even. Over the years, she’d secretly listened to the idle gossip about the great family whenever she heard it, wanting to hear if Tate had married or was engaged. Nothing of the kind had ever been mentioned but, upon his return to England, his antics in London certainly had been all that was on anyone’s lips. In this county at least.
The man was a veritable rogue from all accounts and, somehow, the notion that he had many lovers, or at least took women to his bed with on a regular basis, left the hollowness of his betrayal open like a gaping wound.
It was also not who she’d thought he was. Tate had certainly never been such a man when she had known him but they’d been a lot younger then, only nineteen in fact. His grace had also refused to marry her. So, she supposed, maybe if he had been legitimately attracted to her and loved her, he would’ve taken her to his bed as well. He had not.
She pulled Manny up on a small incline not far from the ducal horseracing stables, and from here she could see Titan eating grass in an adjacent paddock. Clicking her tongue, she pushed her mount forward in the direction of the stables, wanting to speak to the head trainer. See if she could get him to barter with the duke, who seemed to be a stubborn oaf, all of a sudden.
She tied up her mount to a nearby railing, leaving her with enough rein to nibble the grass. The stables were as large as hers, and yet the wood did look in need of fresh paint. At least hers were in better condition, much better than a duke’s.
Entering the stables, she stood inside the darkened space and gave her eyes time to adjust. Men went about their business, some boys shoveling out days’ old straw from the stalls while a couple of younger lads sat oiling the stirrups on the leather saddles.
“No oats today. He’s getting fat,” a familiar voice said and she gasped at hearing Tate again after all these years. The thought of fleeing entered her mind for a moment, before she raised her chin and faced the inevitable reunion that was bound to happen now that they were both back in England.
He walked out of a stall and she took the opportunity to drink in his form, his features, while he was unaware of her presence. The youth she’d once loved was no more. His soft brown hair looked sun kissed, longer on top than the sides and he’d pushed it back without thought giving it a ruffled appearance. His straight nose and chiseled jaw were as perfect as ever and, even now, she recalled the feel of it. Tate’s lips were pulled into a half smile after talking to his workers, and she marveled at the fact that one man could be blessed so generously with good looks.
Certainly he was a good four inches taller, and as for his arms that once had been spindly, the current Duke of Whitstone’s were muscular and strong. His thighs, encased in tan breeches, bulged with lean muscle and heat bloomed on her cheeks. She bit the inside of her cheek. Even after all that had passed between them, that her body betrayed her by longing for one more caress, a look, a kiss…
What a silly little commoner she was.
He turned and started when he spotted her. A flash of pleasure crossed his features before he blinked and it was gone, replaced with annoyance.
“I will not change my mind, Miss. Knight. You’r
e wasting my time and your own.”
She sighed, lifting her chin. “I had an agreement with Mr. Tuttle before you forced him to sell you Titan. I deserve for that agreement to be upheld.”
He turned, giving her his back. If he meant it to be a slight, he was sadly mistaken. Instead of infuriating her, her body simply had a mind of its own and her gaze dipped to his bottom. Biting her lip, she fought not to grin at how perfect he still was down there.
“By and by, Miss. Knight, should you be dressed in such a way? You look like a man.”
She raised one brow, still staring at his bottom since he was still looking the other way. “Like I care what you think, Your Grace. I didn’t come here to discuss our clothing, but horse stock. What will it take for you to give me Titan so I can have him cover my mare, Black Lace? I’m willing to pay if its money you want. I remember well how much your family adores currency.”
He did turn at that and she narrowed her eyes. Good. She wanted him annoyed. Annoyed as she was, that it was because of her lack of connections, of titled ancestors in her bloodline that had made her so ineligible for him. He’d left for America, abandoned her instead of telling her to her face that he’d made a mistake. That he no longer loved her and didn’t wish them to marry.
She would’ve been hurt, to be sure. But that hurt would’ve healed knowing that he’d been honest had acted the gentleman. The man before her was a coward who ran away instead of facing his responsibilities. He’d left her alone and vulnerable. Her school friends had been her salvation, but upon returning to England there was no-one. With her father gone, she’d been alone, without protection and she’d paid for that lapse in the worst way possible. She would never forgive him for that.
