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The ride to Foldger’s Foals wasn’t a long journey, but the road was rut-ridden due to frequent use. A peek through the window in his room revealed a bright morning with nary a cloud in the sky, although the weather could change suddenly and let loose a downpour within minutes. Weather in this part of the country was fickle, to say the least.
Brock stuffed his remaining personal effects into his saddle bag and headed back downstairs to retrieve his stallion, Sage. He quickly made his way through the common room, avoiding the penetrating gaze of the barkeep’s wanton daughter. He had more pressing matters. He had a stable to establish, an estate to refurbish, a family name to polish, and a wife to find—not necessarily in that order.
Sage awaited him outside the inn’s main door, hitched to a post. He hoped the stable hand had fed him substantially and brushed the sweat from his coat after their long journey the day before.
“Hello, boy,” Brock greeted the only stable presence in his life. Sage had been by his side for more years than he could count. With the animal’s muzzle in his palm, he scratched just the right spot. Sage swooshed his tail to and fro.
“He be watered and fed for ye, just as ye asked last evening.”
Brock turned to face the stable lad behind him, a warm smile on his face. “Many thanks.” He flipped the boy a shilling, loaded his knapsack with the few things he’d brought with him, and mounted the horse.
Sage made quick time of the trip to Foldger’s Foals, and Brock was glad for it. As the stable came into view, he searched the open fields, the horse corral, and stable yard for any sight of Lady Posey. He told himself it was only to conduct their business as swiftly as possible and return back to his estate.
Is that really true? Whether it was or not didn’t matter; he had responsibilities to attend to at Haversham House. At this moment, lumber should be arriving to repair the neglected carriage house and stable. His butler and housekeeper would be training a new household staff, and he hoped to bring home a wife soon.
Yes, Brock was tired of being alone, living the solitary life of a military man. He missed his mother’s laughter, his father’s barking, and the twins’ hijinks.
Maneuvering Sage onto the lane leading up to the stable office, he spotted Lady Posey entering the yard through an ivy-covered gate before heading into the stables. Was that a potato sack the woman was wearing? Surely her maid should be relieved of her duties for allowing her mistress to leave her dressing chamber in such disarray.
Brock spurred Sage to a gallop and moved swiftly down the road, dust flying in his wake. He feared she’d disappear into the stables and not return for their meeting. He was stunned to realize he looked forward to bantering with her; she would drive a hard bargain, Brock was certain.
“Lady Posey!” He brought Sage to a stop feet from the entrance to her stables. “Good morning.” He leapt from his horse and threw his reins to the lad who ran out.
Her dress was not exactly a sack, but the sturdiness of the brown material would most likely hold the weight of one hundred pounds of potatoes. Gone was the young maiden with the sensible-yet-fashionable gown he had met yesterday. In her place stood an old maid.
“And to you, my lord.” Her gaze coyly directed at the ground as she sank into a curtsey the likes of which he hadn’t seen in years, if ever. Rising, she continued. “I have drawn up the appropriate paperwork. Please accompany me to my office. Tuck, please find Mr. Cale and direct him to my office, as well.” She addressed the lad leading Sage into the stables.
“Yes, miss.”
“I had not expected you this early,” she said as they walked the short distance to her office.
“I have long been an early riser. You’ve likewise surprised me.” Her coffee-colored dress, if that was indeed the exact shade, moved around her ankles as she walked two steps ahead of him.
“How so, my lord?” she asked over her shoulder. Stopping, she slipped a key into the lock of the door.
“It is my understanding that most maidens are wont to rise before the noon-day meal.” From her stern look and the hardness in her eyes, he feared he’d insulted her again. Another thing he would be made to apologize for. “I meant no disrespect, Lady Posey, I only—”
She stepped into the room and turned to face him. “You will learn in short order that I am not your common society miss or debutante.” She held her stance, blocking him entrance to the room.
Is she awaiting an apology? “Again, pardon my rudeness. I have only recently returned to polite society.”
She continued to stare at him, and he at her. He didn’t mind, as it gave him time to inspect her indigo eyes, clear as the channel he’d crossed between the continents.
“Lord Haversham,” Mr. Cale called from behind him. “So lovely to see you back. Shall we finalize the sell? I am sure you are most eager to return home.”
“As I was telling Lord Haversham, I have the necessary papers ready for signature,” Lady Posey said, severing eye contact with him.
“That I am,” Brock assured her. He moved to the side to allow her man of business to enter.
“Wonderful, wonderful. Lady V—Posey, I can handle this if you have other pressing matters to attend to.” Mr. Cale crossed the room to stand next to Lady Posey’s desk, his body creating a virtual shield between Brock and the woman. “I know you have an important meeting to prepare for.”
The pair held eye contact, and Brock felt as though he was intruding on a private moment. He grew uneasy. Though Lady Posey didn’t appear to reciprocate the feeling, it was clear from his possessive posturing that Mr. Cale had more than a professional interest in his employer.
“That would be most helpful, Connor.” Lady Posey slipped past the man and Brock. She didn’t stop until her hand rested on the door handle, ready to pull the door shut after she departed. “The papers are drawn up according to our policies, and places marked for signatures. Lord Haversham, Connor can deliver the foals to your estate in two weeks’ time, if that is agreeable?”
She didn’t give him a chance to reply before she pulled the door shut behind her.
A part of him wanted to run after her. She intrigued him as no other had in a long time—possibly ever. That her looks were as appealing as her personality only further garnered his interest.
Instead, he turned to Mr. Cale while the man laid out the necessary paperwork.
Shunned No More Page 4
