She hurried to take a glance at some of the horses. Lifting a lantern from its hook, Alicia strode past the tack room toward the horse stalls.
“Wha’ ye doin’?” A lad, not much older than her ten-and-four-year-old sister, poked his head out from the last stall. She had apparently awakened him by the look of his tousled red hair and sleepy eyes.
“I’m inspecting the quarters,” Alicia replied. “Who are you?”
The boy warily studied her plain dress and riding boots. “Name is Penn. I’m one o’ the stable boys.” He scratched his head and frowned. “Ain’t never seen ye before.”
Alicia bit back a smile. “I’ll be working here for a while,” she said instead.
A golden horse, similar in size to her own stallion, stuck its head over the stall gate and neighed a welcome.
Without a thought, Alicia peered over the rail, eager to see the animal’s conformation. Suddenly, from the far end of the stable, came a piercing cry, followed by a chorus of whinnies from the other horses.
“What was that pitiful sound?” Alicia asked.
Penn’s freckled face paled. “Nothin’.”
“Nothing?” Alicia pushed past him and rushed toward the racket. The agonizing sound reminded her of the day, last spring, when one of her mares had broken loose and wandered along the river. Alicia had followed that fearful bellow until she found her horse, stuck in the mud, just in time to save her from a pack of wild dogs.
The racket in the stable stopped as quickly as it had began. Raising the lantern, Alicia rounded the next row of horse stalls. At the end of the wall stood another box stall, walls too high to peer over.
Alicia forgot everything as she dashed toward the cubicle, hung the lantern on a peg and lifted the stout beam that held the door fast.
“Don’t go in there, Miss,” Penn yelled. “E’ll kill ye.”
Ignoring the stableboy’s warning, Alicia stepped inside and closed the door behind her. In one corner stood a massive black stallion, trembling with fear. The horse’s piercing black eyes were ringed in white as he backed into the corner, watching her with apprehension.
Alicia gasped. Somehow she knew this Thoroughbred must be Wexton’s Bashshar. Dismissing thoughts of the man, she moved away from the stall’s door to give the animal a sense that he wasn’t cornered.
He tossed his massive head; the lantern’s soft glow emphasized the fiery glints along his satiny black coat. The stallion pawed the ground, ears laid flat against his head, teeth bared.
Alicia’s need to comfort far outweighed her fear. In a low clear sound, she began to hum, while in her mind she pictured a soothing image—wind rippling through swaying willow branches. At a safe distance from the horse, she stood still, allowing him to become accustomed to her scent. Although Alicia thought the stallion might rear, she held her ground and continued to hum.
She looked for some outward sign of his distress. Raised white scars zigzagged across the animal’s left flank, shining in the lantern light. She grimaced but leaned closer. The laceration had occurred within the month, as indicated by the proud flesh—the raised, white tissue—that formed around the wound.
She met the animal’s frightened eyes. Aye, what troubled the horse was more than his wounds. She could feel his terror and agony.
Penn peeked through a knothole in the wooden wall. Immediately, the horse caught the brief movement; his eyes again were ringed in white. Lips curling, the animal let out another terrifying scream. Alicia felt as if her body were being ripped in two. She squeezed her eyes shut, and reached to touch the animal’s neck.
Immediately, the horse’s feelings of fear and confusion shot through her—feelings so intense that she thought she had been pounded hard alongside the ear. Forcing the fervor from her mind, Alicia cleared her thoughts and braced herself. Her hand pressed gently along Bashshar’s warm, silky neck.
“Nobody dares touch the ‘orse ‘cept ‘is lordship.” Penn had opened the door a crack, keeping a respectful distance from her and the stallion.
Alicia turned to face the lad, “Then this is Bashshar?”
Penn nodded, his eyes wide.
“How did the accident happen?”
When Penn didn’t answer, she stopped petting the horse and backed up toward the door, moving very carefully so as not to frighten Bashshar.
“I asked you how the accident happened.”
“Dunno.”
“Nonsense. A valuable animal like Bashshar is injured and the stable boy knows nothing about it?” Maybe it was the severe look she gave him, but Penn finally answered her.
“Me father is Ulger, the stable master. He said fer me t’ say nothin’ ’bout that night.” Penn muttered so softly she could barely hear him.
“Why would your father give such an order?” But as soon as she’d asked, she wondered if Ulger felt intimidated by the duke. She decided on a change of tactic. “Was the duke of Wexton riding Bashshar when the injury occurred?”
Penn’s widening hazel eyes was his only answer.
“Please, Penn. If I knew how the horse was injured, it would help me understand him.” She felt guilty pressing the lad, but she needed to find out what she could. “Was the duke riding the horse when the accident occurred?” she repeated.
Penn pressed his lips into a grim line. “Yes, my lady. An’ weren’t no accident, neither.” His gaze narrowed with intended meaning.
“Surely you don’t mean that someone deliberately harmed the animal?” She studied Penn, who immediately averted his gaze.
No, Alicia thought. Penn wouldn’t dare say anything derogatory about his master, either. She took a deep breath. “Did you see—” she hesitated “—the incident?”
Penn shook his head. “Me father an’ the master brought the horse in an’—” He shook his red curls. “Never saw Bashshar like ’e was that night. Never saw any animal like ’im, thank God. When I asked what ‘appened, they told me t’ get out an’ sleep in the servants’ wing.” Penn glanced around as if he might be overheard. “After I left the stable, I couldn’t sleep thinkin’ o’ th’ poor creature’s sufferin’.”
Although she wanted to know more, Alicia didn’t want Penn telling Ulger or the duke that she was prodding the lad with questions. She’d find out what she needed to know in her own way. “Thank you, Penn. I won’t say a word to anyone about the matter.”
He gave her an uneasy look, then scratched his head.
Alicia felt the horse begin to settle. “Go back to sleep, Penn. I’d like to remain with Bashshar for a time.”
His eyes rounded like amber saucers. “B-but…”
She smiled reassuringly. “If your father should question you, I’ll explain to him in the morning.”
“It’s not me father I fear, my lady. It’s ’is lordship. ’E’ll eat me alive if ’e finds I let ye near ’is ’orse.”
Surprised that Penn hadn’t been told earlier that she was coming to help work with Bashshar, Alicia wondered how many people Dalton had told about her arrival. “Let me worry about his lordship.”
Penn hesitated, then glanced at the stallion. Bashshar tossed his head, the long silky mane shimmering like black satin in the lantern light. “The beast does seem quieter,” Penn said after a moment.
Alicia purposely waited for Penn’s approval. She sensed that the lad, although now frightened of Bashshar, held great respect and pride for the stallion.
“I think Bashshar likes ye,” the lad said finally, as though he’d considered the matter carefully. “’E might enjoy yer company.” Penn gave her a furtive glance, then dashed out of sight, his footfalls fading along the crushed gravel.
After the boy left, Alicia was still caught up in the intense feelings of her intuition. Although the stallion was still terrified of her, she sensed that eventually, she might earn the horse’s trust. But first, she must insist upon the truth about the accident from Wexton.
A shiver passed over her. She glanced out the window to the golden glow of Havencrest,
sitting in the distance like a glittering diamond against the inky velvet sky.
Whatever the truth, Wexton, I’ll find it out, you can be sure of that.
Chapter Three
When Dalton returned to the ballroom, he was more determined than ever to find out what Olivia had learned about the mysterious Lady Alicia. His gaze veered toward the crush of his mother’s guests—London’s finest. Damn, his sister was nowhere in sight.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Elizabeth waving to him from a crowd of admiring young bucks. Dalton nodded politely, giving her a warm smile.
His mother caught his attention. Garbed in black widow’s weeds, her diamond tiara atop her elaborately styled black hair, Mildred, the five-and-fifty-year-old dowager duchess of Wexton was still an attractive woman. She held court to the admiring throng of society’s ton as she always had. Several wives of the earls and viscounts met his eye. Dalton gave them a perfunctory nod.
His mother knew the latest rumor and scandal, although she’d never admit it to him. How ironic, he mused. As he stood watching her, the unbidden childhood image of his mother and her lover jumped into Dalton’s thoughts. He immediately pushed away the painful memory.
Reluctantly, Dalton made his way through the crush until he stood at his mother’s side.
“It’s about time you made your appearance, Dalton.” With stony dignity, her fingers brushed the glittering onyx-and-diamond necklace at her throat. In a whisper for his ears only, she added, “I expect you to attend these—”
“Dalton,” Elizabeth interrupted. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She curled her hand around his sleeve, then gave the dowager a most dazzling smile.
“Your grace, surely you don’t wish to keep your son from his guests?” she teased. “We see so little of Dalton as it is.”
A look of pleasure transformed the older woman’s thin face. “Surely my son doesn’t ignore you, dear Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth coquettishly tilted her head at Dalton. “Yes, he ignores me most outlandishly.” She pursed her lips into a delicate pout.
“I have been attending to the needs of one of the guests,” Dalton said without emotion. “A special favor, you might say.”
Curiosity sparkled Elizabeth’s green eyes. “A special guest? Do I know him?”
“I couldn’t say.” Dalton felt a hint of satisfaction in countering her undisguised curiosity. He patted her gloved hand. “I’m afraid I must be leaving,” he said, peeling her hand from his arm. “I hope to see you tomorrow.”
His mother waved her fan in a furious blur.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mother.” He gave her a dismissive bow, then one to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth’s cheeks blushed. He wasn’t aware that she had followed him out of the ballroom until he reached the hall. She rounded on him. “How dare you ignore me!”
Dalton stepped to one of the small private alcoves along the corridor. “Elizabeth, please—”
“You bastard!” Elizabeth’s eyes glittered with outrage. “How dare you treat me with such open disdain in front of everyone?”
Surprised, Dalton took a step back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She glared back. “Oh, yes, you do. Only this morning, Lady Fredricks told me that I should learn to whinny if I hope to gain any attention from you.” Angry red blotches begin to spread along her face and neck. “I’ll not become a laughingstock because of you. I won’t be ignored any longer!” She slapped his cheek, then spun around and rushed back toward the ballroom.
Dalton rubbed his stinging cheek and sighed. What in hell had brought that on?
“Dalton!” Olivia rushed along the hall to his side. “Whatever did you do to Elizabeth—?”
“I’m afraid it’s not what I did. It’s what I refused to do,” he replied playfully.
“Oh, Dalton. Trifling with Elizabeth can be a dangerous sport.”
Dalton laughed. “Dangerous?”
“Yes, dangerous.” Olivia’s blue eyes widened with alarm. “She fancies herself in love with you, Dalton.”
He felt a sudden jolt of sympathy for Elizabeth. “She’s still so very young, Olivia. Elizabeth only thinks she’s in love. By next week, she’ll outgrow her infatuation and fall hopelessly in love with someone else.” He winked at her. “You’ll see.”
Olivia shook her head. “Elizabeth is a headstrong woman who knows what she wants. She wants you, Dalton. I wish you’d take her seriously.”
He shrugged in futile helplessness. “You’re a delightful romantic, my sister. I hope your belief in true love will never desert you. But I’m afraid that every coupling can’t be as divine as yours and that husband you so cherish.”
Olivia frowned worriedly. “Sometimes you can be the most stubborn man.”
Dalton chuckled. “The evening is too lovely to spend arguing, Sister.” He took her arm and led her back toward the ballroom. “Forgive me for changing the subject, but have you spoken to Great-Aunt Mary about Lady Alicia?”
She stopped and looked up at him. Her fingers worked nervously with the ribbons on her fan. “Yes, I did.”
He glanced around for a quiet place to talk. “Come,” he said, urging his sister through the French doors and onto the terrace, away from the threat of meeting Elizabeth again. He took a deep breath of the invigorating night air. “Let’s take a walk through the gardens.”
Lilting music floated from the ballroom’s open windows as they strolled across the broad terrace. When they came to an empty bench beneath towering rhododendrons, they took a seat.
Olivia collected herself. “Alicia’s father is a notorious drunk, a gambler who has almost lost their family estate many times. Three years ago, when Alicia arrived for her first Season, she was thrown into the most shocking scandal.”
Dalton knew that Olivia, unlike their mother, disliked gossip, and he wished he could have found out what he needed to know about Lady Alicia Spencer some other way. But he needed to be discreet, and Olivia was one of the few people he trusted.
“The incident happened during Lady Alicia’s first ball, which was given by Mother at our London town house. It was also Elizabeth’s first Season. In fact, mother was Elizabeth’s patroness that year. Do you remember, Dalton?”
He shook his head. “No. That spring I was in Portugal, fighting with Wellesley’s campaign. Just before Drake enlisted—”
His words faded when he saw the pained expression cross Olivia’s face at the mention of their brother. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I didn’t mean…”
She laid her white-gloved hand on his sleeve. “It’s quite all right, Dalton.” She paused, glancing up at the stars twinkling overhead. “You’d think after three years that I would accept that he’s never coming home.” She shook her head. “I know I sound foolish, Dalton. Forgive me.”
“You’re not foolish, my dear. I miss him, too.”
“The worst part for me was not having Drake’s body returned to England. I so hate to think—”
He patted her hand. “Drake will remain alive in our hearts as long as we remember him, Olivia. He’d be so proud that you named your first son after him.”
The tight smile on Olivia’s lips faded. “Thank God that you returned safely from the war. I don’t know what I would have done without you, too.”
Olivia, so sensitive, so caring. He squeezed her hand in an attempt to comfort. She was almost nine years younger than he; maybe that was why he would always feel so protective of her.
“I haven’t told you the worst about Lady Alicia’s past,” Olivia said, recovering. She met his gaze. “On the evening of Alicia’s first ball, she was found with your friend, Justin Sykes, alone in his bedroom.”
“Sykes?” Dalton released her hand. “I don’t believe it.”
She nodded. “There’s no mistake. In fact, Great-Aunt Mary said that Mother and several of her friends found them together.”
Dalton furrowed his brows in disbelief. Justin Sykes’s reputation as a rake an
d a scoundrel was well-known. Rumor had it that he’d made his wealth from selling contraband to Napoleon’s troops, but Dalton had never believed it. Certainly an innocent like Alicia would be warned to steer clear of such a scoundrel, unless she thought herself in love with him. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Word of the affair spread and by nightfall of the next day, Lady Alicia had returned home in utter disgrace.” Blue eyes, so like his own, stared back at him. “Great-Aunt Mary remembers the incident vividly. Before Alicia’s downfall, everyone said that she was by far the most beautiful jewel of the Season.”
“Did Sykes offer for her?”
Olivia’s eyes widened. “That’s what upset everyone the most. Justin Sykes offered to marry her, and the girl turned him down.”
“That’s devilishly queer. Why?”
“Despite all the rumors, no one knew the truth.”
Dalton thought back to the lovely, free-spirited woman who had barely concealed her animosity toward him. Beneath her plain gown, he’d seen the full high breasts and the feminine outline of her tiny waist and gently rounded hips, and he remembered his immediate reaction to her. He prided himself on being able to look beyond this sort of attraction to women in order to make astute judgments of the fair sex.
Yet the more he discovered about Alicia, the more mysterious she became. Now, he understood her initial refusal to tend Bashshar, and the sacrifice she’d made to come to the family estate and face his mother.
“I’ve done Lady Alicia a grave disservice, I’m afraid.”
“What do you mean, Dalton?”
“Alicia has put aside her feelings about our mother to help an injured animal. She’s here solely because she wants to cure Bashshar.”
“Hmm. I see she’s impressed you, brother.” A note of inquisitiveness rang on her words. “I’m curious to meet her.”
“Perhaps you could pay her a visit tomorrow. I haven’t told anyone else that she’s arrived. I’m afraid you might be her only friend while she’s here.”
“Oh, Dalton. Mother will never permit her to stay.”
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