And Then She Fell(43)



Louise’s lips curved with that deeper understanding only a mother possessed. “Indeed, so it seems. Now go up and have your bath, and you would be wise to take a nap. Mary and I will be out for luncheon, but we’ll be back to see you off this afternoon.”

After quitting the back parlor, James paused in the front hall, then glanced at the butler, Hudson. “Have you heard whether the groom caught Miss Cynster’s mare?”

“Yes, sir. Gibbs caught up with the beast on the other side of Grosvenor Square, when some carriages blocked it in.”

“So the animal’s back in the stables?”

“Indeed, sir.”

“And where might your master’s stables be?”

Directed to the mews, James found the stables easily enough. The stableman, an older, experienced man, was walking the black mare, now perfectly placid again, on the cobbles before the stable doors, studying the horse’s finely shaped black legs, no doubt checking for any wounds.

Hands in his pockets, James walked up and halted beside the man. “Good morning. Hudson told me where to find you. I was riding with Miss Cynster this morning—I’m a friend of Mr. Simon Cynster.”

“Oh, aye.” The stableman regarded him. “You’re the one who saved our lassie.” He nodded respectfully. “You have our thanks and more besides, sir. Miss Henrietta’s a game rider, but from what Gibbs—her groom—said, she’d never have been able to rein in Marie here.”

“Indeed. Miss Cynster told me the horse came from her cousin Demon’s stable. And that, I admit, makes me curious.” James tipped his head toward the horse. “Marie here was perfectly placid earlier, all the way until she screamed and reared, and I can’t imagine Demon Cynster allowing any of his female cousins to possess a horse with an uncertain temper, or any other susceptibility that might result in what I saw this morning.”

“No, indeed.” The stableman’s face darkened. “You’re right there, but it’s no wonder that Marie screamed as she did.” Moving to the horse’s rump, the stableman lifted a corner of the blanket currently draped over Marie’s back. “Just look at what some bastard did to her.”

James looked at where the man pointed. A small wound was still seeping blood. It took him an instant to realize what it meant. “A dart?”

Straightening, he looked incredulously at the stableman, who nodded grimly. “Aye—that’s my guess. Some idiot boy out for a lark, I suppose—throw the dart and watch the fine lady flying off her horse.” The stableman snorted. “If me or my boys could lay hands on the blighter, he wouldn’t be smiling.”

“No, indeed.” But they’d have to get in line. James quashed the sudden impulse to violence, and nodded at the stableman. “Thank you for showing me—I thought it must have been something like that.”

They parted with goodwill and good wishes all around.

James walked slowly back up the mews, lips twisting as he wondered . . . but there was no reason to suppose that the dart had been aimed specifically at Henrietta’s horse, and not, as the stableman assumed, simply at the horse of some fine lady.





Chapter Seven



James left London early in the afternoon. Driving his curricle, he reached Ellsmere Grange in good time. After greeting his hosts, Lord and Lady Ellsmere, friends of his parents, and being shown to his room, he descended to the drawing room to lounge and chat with the other guests who had already assembled.

Miss Violet Ellsmere, the daughter of the house, had recently become engaged to Viscount Channing. James and Channing had known each other for years; James duly ribbed Channing over his soon-to-be lost freedom, which, James noted, Channing bore with the smugness of a well-satisfied cat.

Which only made James all the more restless as he prowled the gathering while constantly keeping one eye on the forecourt.

Finally, a black carriage rolled up the drive—the right black carriage; James recognized the Cynsters’ coachman. By the time the coach rocked to a halt on the fine gravel of the forecourt, James was stepping off the porch, waving the footman back as he reached for the carriage door.

He swung it open. Henrietta blinked at him, then smiled. Happily. She was clearly suffering no ill effects from their morning’s excitement.

Extending her hand, she let him help her down. “Thank you.” When he offered his arm, with a laughing smile, she twined her arm in his. “Are you intending to monopolize me?”

Stephanie Laurens's Books