Save a Horse, Ride a Viscount Read online

  “Harlowe’s story may not have been of consequence to you,” Anthony continued, “but the tragic story of the duke had every horse-loving man in London at Tattersall’s that day, with his pocketbook at the ready. I’ve never seen the place so crowded. It was madness.”

  Thea clenched her fists. Confound it. Why did her horse have to have former owners with such a dramatic history? She immediately chastised herself for having such an ungenerous thought. It was hardly the Duke of Harlowe’s fault that he and his brother had died unceremoniously. But Thea hadn’t counted on there being such stiff competition at the auction. And she certainly hadn’t counted on the horse selling for more than Father had in addition to her dowry. There had to be a way to get more money and buy the horse from whoever had won the auction. Which reminded her ... Anthony had yet to give her the name of her new sworn enemy.

  “Who was it?” Thea demanded, plunking her fists to her hips and fighting the urge to stamp her slippered foot. “Who paid that much? Who won the auction?”

  “Clayton.” Anthony replied, inclining his head. “Viscount Clayton. I knew the man had money, but his investments must be doing even better than I’d heard.”

  “Indeed,” Father added, nodding sagely.

  “Clayton?” Theodora repeated, narrowing her eyes again. She tapped one finger against her cheek. “The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I’m not placing him.”

  “Viscount Clayton lives here in Devon. He’s a good man. Smart. Shrewd. A favorite in Parliament. A scientist, I believe,” Father said.

  “Have I met him?” Thea asked, her eyes still narrowed. “I don’t remember him. Does he attend our Christmastide ball?”

  “I invite him to the ball every year, that’s probably how you remember the name. But he always sends his regrets. He spends a great deal of time in London. He has been here before, but it’s been many years. I’m certain you wouldn’t recall what a lot of old men were discussing. His family has lived at Clayton Manor for generations, of course. The current viscount is a force in Parliament from what I understand. Quite the politician. Knows everyone. Very connected.”

  Thea stepped toward the window and stared out toward the pasture. Perfect. An old man bought her horse. An old rich man. Someone who probably wouldn’t even be able to ride the animal and enjoy it. Perhaps she could talk him out of it. Perhaps she could appeal to his kindness. He’d been in competition against other men at the auction. Perhaps a young woman could talk him into seeing reason, to appeal to his softer side. At least he was a neighbor. She wouldn’t have to travel terribly far to get Alabaster. Surely if she explained to Viscount Clayton that she didn’t want the horse because of the notoriety surrounding his former owner, but because of her deep love of the animal, the man couldn’t possibly refuse to sell her the horse. Not if he were a gentleman.

  Thea turned swiftly to address Anthony and her father. “How far away is Lord Clayton’s estate?”

  “About an hour’s ride from here,” Father replied. “Due East.”

  Anthony narrowed his eyes on his sister. “Why are you asking?”

  “I’m simply curious about the man,” Thea replied, calmly folding her hands together in front of her. It wouldn’t do for Anthony to guess that she intended to visit the viscount if she had to. Her brother would surely put a stop to it. Or try to at any rate.

  Theodora turned once more and stared out the window, her mind racing. In addition to her dowry, she had additional monies that her mother had left her. Mother had left special instructions that she was to have control over it. It was meant to ensure that she would be able to pick her own husband, but instead, she would use that money and the additional amount to get her horse. A horse was more important than a husband after all. More loyal at least. Besides, what did Thea need with a dowry? She was already two and twenty and firmly on the shelf. Her mother’s death prior to her come-out had ensured that Thea was able to skip that obnoxious event and then, two years later, when her father had insisted she arrive at the palace and be presented to the queen (her mother’s childhood friend Lady Hophouse had sponsored her), Thea had promptly curtsied to the queen, made the obligatory rounds, and retreated to the countryside where she’d remained for the last two years, ignoring Lady Hophouse’s repeated letters begging her to return to London and find a husband. Husbands weren’t good for much. Horses were.

  Of course even if her father gave her their originally agreed upon amount and she used her dowry and the additional money from her mother, it still wouldn’t be enough to pay Viscount Clayton as much as he’d spent. How in the world would she come up with the difference? She wasn’t entirely certain, but she knew the first step would be to write to the viscount and find out if an attempt to buy the horse from him would be in vain. She’d worry about how to procure the money later. Yes. She intended to write a letter to old, frail Lord Clayton, and appeal to the man’s heart … the first chance she got.

  Chapter Two

  Ewan Fairchild, Viscount Clayton, stood just beyond the paddock gate behind his manor house watching his latest—and by far most extravagant—purchase run across the field. His newly hired horse trainer, Forrester, was there, ensuring the best of everything for the Arabian.

  In his twenty-eight years of life, Ewan had never spent more on a purchase. Certainly not for a horse, not even for one of his London town houses, but the Arabian was magnificent, and irreplaceable as far as Ewan was concerned.

  He hadn’t intended to pay so much, of course. The price had been raised to a ridiculous extent by Lord Anthony Ballard, the son of the Earl of Blackstone. Ewan had never had a quarrel with Ballard. They were neighbors, in fact, but Ballard had seemed beyond intent upon winning the steed. It had surprised Ewan. He’d never known Ballard to be such a connoisseur of horseflesh. Was Ballard merely impressed by the animal’s ancestry? Or was he just another one of the many who’d been intrigued by Harlowe’s sad tale?

  No, Ewan hadn’t expected the bidding to go as high as it had, but in the end, he’d won and that was what mattered. Ewan loved to win. Loved nothing better in fact. In Parliament, he excelled at winning by talking other gentlemen into seeing things his way. He had a knack for diplomacy and a reputation for being able to talk almost anyone into almost anything, but the auction hadn’t required either of those skills. It had merely required the biggest pocketbook and luckily for Ewan, the years he’d spent investing his father’s money since he’d inherited the title had paid off. In spades. As it turned out, in addition to his predilection for politics, he also had a knack for investment decisions. Besides, what was a bit of coin when a man’s life hung in the balance?

  Ewan prided himself on having all his affairs in order and winning every match he came up against, be it getting a bill passed in Parliament or a horse at auction. He had his entire life planned out to the slightest detail. He had a scientific mind and scientific minds liked to leave nothing to chance. Why, he even knew who he would marry, not that he intended to tie the parson’s noose around his neck anytime soon. But one had to be prepared and Ewan was always prepared. He’d chosen a future bride the same way he made all his decisions, with calculation and precision. Lord Malcolm was the leader of the opposition in Parliament and a union between his family and Clayton’s would go a long way toward solving many an argument in Whitehall. Malcolm’s daughter, Lady Lydia, was twenty years old already, but apparently, she was in no hurry to marry either, or so her father claimed. Just as well. Ewan was hardly eager to marry a young girl. A union with Lydia would be just the advantageous match he’d always dreamed of. It would set up Ewan to be the de facto leader in Parliament. And that connection, along with his skills in diplomacy would be all he needed to ensure his bills were passed in a timely manner. The most important ones at least. The ones he truly cared about.

  In addition to politics, friendship was one of the most important things in the world to Ewan. His own close friends were like brothers to him. He’d never had brothers of his own. He’d been an only
child. When he’d met his close friends Kendall, Worth, and Bell at school, the lads had become thick as thieves in no time at all.

  Of course Ewan had already known Phillip. Phillip was his oldest friend. They had met as small lads, no more than six years old. Phillip’s father had been visiting Ewan’s father and the two boys had hit it off immediately. They’d run down to the creek to try to float the small boat Ewan had just finished creating out of wood earlier that day. What happened that day had changed the course of their lives. It was something Ewan would never forget and something he would always be in Phillip’s debt for.

  None of Ewan’s closest friends knew about his intent to wed Lady Lydia. No need to frighten them all before the time was right. They wouldn’t be particularly surprised to learn that he would marry for politics, however. It’s not as if any of them intended to marry for anything as crass as love. Well, Kendall perhaps, Ewan thought with a chuckle.

  As far as Ewan was concerned, ambition was more important than love. Or at least it got you farther in life.

  Ewan glanced back toward the estate. His gaze lifted to a large second-floor window that faced that back of his land. Phillip’s bedchamber. Phillip hadn’t left that room for months. Phillip needed this horse. That was all there was to it.

  Ewan strolled to the side of the paddock and his gaze traveled toward the front of the property where coach after coach arrived with the additional items he’d purchased at auction in London this week. He’d got nearly everything he’d gone to the city for, but the horse had been the most important item by far. Ewan and Forrester, the horse trainer, were going to ensure the Arabian did what he’d purchased him to do. They could not fail.

  Ewan turned his gaze back to the horse. The stallion galloped past a small stable boy who flew backwards upending a bucket of water he’d been carrying out to the far end of the paddock. Ewan jogged over and helped the boy to his feet.

  “I’m sorry, me lord,” the boy stumbled over his words, fear making his eyes bright. “Please forgive me, Sir. Don’t send me off, please.”

  Ewan frowned. Why was this boy so frightened? “Are you the new boy Mr. Hereford just hired?”

  I am, Sir,” the boy gulped. “I began just two days ago. Please don’t sack me, me lord. I won’t make the mistake again, I promise.”

  “It was an honest mistake, Mr. …” Ewan waited for the boy to provide him with a surname.

  “Candle, me lord. Me name be Geoffrey Candle.”

  “Very well, Candle. As I was saying, it was an honest mistake and I do not terminate an honest man’s employment over small trifles. In future, you may want to go the long way around near the fence to deliver the bucket.”

  Relief washed across the boy’s face and the hint of a smile played across his cracked lips. “Aye, me lord. Certainly.” He grabbed the bucket and was about to scurry back to the barn to refill it when Ewan stopped him again.

  “Candle?” he called.

  The boy turned back to face him, the bucket bumping against his leg. “Aye, me lord?”

  Ewan pursed his lips. “Out of curiosity, where were you employed prior to coming here?”

  “Lord Mayfeather’s estate, me lord.” The boy’s face showed fear even before he shuddered.

  “I see,” Ewan replied. “Very well. That’ll be all.”

  The boy scampered off and Ewan shook his head. Lord Mayfeather was an old man known for his temper. He lived on a dilapidated estate at least two hours ride away. He had a reputation for treating his servants poorly. No wonder the poor lad had been afraid of being sacked.

  Ewan turned his attention back to the horse. The magnificent stallion tossed its mane and lifted its gorgeous hooves from the packed earth.

  Phillip needed him. Ewan wouldn’t fail his friend. After all, he owed him his life.

  Chapter Three

  The next afternoon, Thea squared her shoulders and expelled a long pent-up breath. She sat at the writing desk in the far corner of her bedchamber at the window. She’d never been much for writing letters, but she could certainly do an adequate job when the situation called for it. This time it called not just for writing but for a bit of storytelling, perhaps. Not lying. No. No. Never that, but it didn’t hurt to bend the truth if absolutely necessary. Now, did it?

  She’d already crossed out several lines on a clean sheet of vellum before starting for a fifth time. She cleared her throat and read the words aloud as she wrote them.

  Dear Lord Clayton,

  My brother tells me you won the auction for the Duke of Harlowe’s Arabian. I would like to inquire as to whether you would be willing to sell the horse to me.

  Blast. No. That was simply boring. She crossed it out.

  Dear Lord Clayton,

  It seems you and I have something in common. A love of fine horseflesh. Would you please sell the Arabian to me? I’d be ever so grateful.

  No. No. Far too desperate. She crossed it out.

  Dear Lord Clayton,

  Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lady Theodora Ballard. I am the daughter of the Earl of Blackstone and we are neighbors. I want your horse.

  Gah. Too blunt. More crossing out.

  Dear Lord Clayton,

  You may not be aware, but Alabaster, the Arabian, was my horse when he was a foal. I’ve loved him since I was a child. My brother attempted to purchase him back for me last week, but it seems your desire to own the horse was as great as ours, greater in fact, as you were the winner of the auction. I appeal to you as a horse owner and lover. Will you please entertain an offer for me to purchase the horse from you for the full purchase amount you paid? I would be ever so grateful. Besides, you must be regretting spending such an exorbitant amount.

  Yours with sincerity,

  Lady Theodora Ballard

  She read it over a few more times, settling on crossing out the very last line about regretting spending so much. That might just anger him.

  “What do you think, Mag?” Thea said to the maid who was mending clothing on the other side of the room.

  “Why didn’t you mention how your father sold Alabaster without your knowledge?”

  Thea contemplated the question for a moment. “Men like Viscount Clayton don’t care about such things, Maggie. He’s probably wanting his money back. I intend to give it to him.”

  Maggie shook her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing and that spending that sort of money won’t be something you regret one day.”

  Thea pursed her lips. “I only regret that dodgy old Viscount Clayton has forced me to spend so much to get what I want.”

  “There are other horses in the world, Thea,” Maggie began.

  “Don’t you dare start,” Thea said, giving her friend a look that indicated she wouldn’t hear of it. “There is only one Alabaster and there only ever will be.”

  “Lord, you’re stubborn,” Maggie retorted, rolling her eyes. “Very well, send the letter. But I honestly have no idea how you think you’ll come up with that much money.”

  Thea shrugged. She’d been thinking about that particular problem ever since she’d heard the amount Alabaster had sold for. “I’ve decided to write to my uncle Teddy. He’s rich as Croesus and he loved my mother to distraction.”

  “Do you think he’ll give you that much money?” Maggie wanted to know.

  “I don’t see why not. Besides, it shall only be a loan.”

  “A loan?” Maggie furrowed her brow.

  “Yes. I will promise to repay him in future. It may take the rest of my life saving my pin money, of course, but I’ll give it to him.”

  Maggie lowered her voice. Her eyes softened. “Thea, getting that horse back … it won’t bring back your moth—”

  “Don’t,” Thea warned, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. “I’m getting Alabaster back. No matter the cost.”

  Maggie averted her gaze, nodded, and returned her attention to her sewing.

  Thea waited on tenterhooks for two entire torturous days before she re
ceived an answer from Viscount Clayton. She’d sent a footman directly to his estate with her letter, but his letter came back in the regular post as if he couldn’t be bothered to believe it was of importance.

  The moment her butler handed the letter to her, she ripped open the seal and scanned the page, all the while holding her breath as her heart pounded in her chest.

  Dear Lady Theodora,

  While I appreciate your story and am sorry for your loss, I could not possibly part with the Arabian. I, too, have reasons for wanting him. He’s a beautiful steed.

  Lord Ewan Fairchild, Viscount Clayton

  Thea read it once more. Then she turned over the page. It was blank. There had to be more to it. “That’s it! That’s all he has to say? He has ‘reasons’? He didn’t even bother to tell me what they are.”

  Maggie wrinkled her nose. “He’s not required to tell you his reasons.”

  Thea fought the urge to crumple the letter in her fist. “You’re right, but it would have been gentlemanly of him. I told him how much I love Alabaster.” She was already pulling out a fresh piece of vellum to write back to the old curmudgeon.

  Dear Lord Clayton,

  While I appreciate that you may have your reasons for wanting Alabaster, though you failed to enumerate them, you cannot know what his loss has done to me. Please name your price. I eagerly await your reply.

  Lady Theodora Ballard

  There, that was succinct enough, was it not? He couldn’t possibly mistake that for some sort of coy negotiation tactic. She wanted that horse and was prepared to stop at nothing to get him.

  This time, she had to wait even longer for the reply, prompting her to attempt to mount a trip to his estate more than once. Maggie had to talk her out of doing that, of course. Finally, the reply came one week later.