Suitors and Sabotage(39)

“Was he injured in the fall?” Ernest asked.

“No. Actually—”

“Parted company.” Jake laughed. “Beautiful stepper, and yet you parted company. Not the top-sawyer you thought, eh? Such a shame you missed it, Percy. It was a sight!”

“Appreciating the fruits of your labor?” Ben turned to face Jake square on.

“My labor? I had nothing to do with it, my friend. This was all on you. Trying to jump before your horse was ready.”

“I think the fall had more to do with the burr than the hedge, don’t you?”

Jake stilled, finally realizing that Ben was seething. “What burr?”

“The one under his saddle pad? Know anything about it?”

Pushing his shoulders back, lifting his chin, Jake scowled at Ben. “I most certainly do not. I don’t care a wit about your hide, Mr. Ben Steeple, but I would never do anything to harm a horse, and I heartily resent the implication. Did you hear that, Percy? Next he’ll be accusing you.”

“It has crossed my mind.” Ben’s voice was edged with frost.

“Well, cross it off your mind. Neither Percy nor I had anything to do with your spill.” And with that, Jake harrumphed, glared at the company as if they had done something other than serve as witnesses, and marched toward the manor. Percy looked daggers at Ben and then followed.

“That was uncalled for, Mr. Ben. I believe you owe Jake and Percy an apology,” Imogene’s father said as the group shuffled away in discomfort, leaving only Imogene and Emily standing beside Mr. Chively.

Ben pulled the burr from his pocket, presenting it on his open palm. “It was under Lancelot’s saddle pad. Do you have another suggestion?”

“Yes, young man. The pad could have picked it up drying in the grass or some such. There was no need to accuse Percy or Jake of mischief. You might wish to withdraw your accusation.”

“I did not accuse, Mr. Chively. I merely asked if they knew whence came the burr. And Jake assured me that he did not know.” Ben’s voice dripped with derision. “It is up to each of us to decide if we believe that assurance.”

“Really, young man, your manners are as suspect as that burr. Boorish behavior. You are a guest here … invited solely on your brother’s merit.”

Ben glanced at Imogene with a set down on his tongue and saw her eyes wide with distress. It stopped him short. He blinked, gulped at the air, and swallowed his spleen—with difficulty. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Chively. The fall has clearly rattled my brain, and I am not thinking rationally.”

“Clearly!” Mr. Chively harrumphed—not unlike Jake had done—and nodded, walking away without another word.

“Oh dear,” Imogene said.

“Oh dear,” Emily echoed. “Worry not, Benjamin. It’s no more than bluster. Your question was reasonable to those of us who know the true state of affairs. I’m sure Mr. Chively will come around.” Linking her elbow to that of Imogene, she pulled her friend forward. “My parents certainly understand. They mentioned trying to keep Percy and Jake out of mischief before you arrived. Mr. Chively is, and always has been, indulgent and overprotective of Percy. His heir, you know.” Her last statement was said in a fairly good imitation of Mr. Chively’s imperial tone.

Imogene, looking over her shoulder, nodded just before they disappeared around the corner of the stables.

“Well, the race was entertaining,” Ernest said, staring after the ladies.

“Who won?”

“I did,” Ernest said with a sigh.

Ben laughed and slapped his brother on the back. “Well done! That’s the best way to thwart our villains. Beat them at their own game.”

Ernest smiled, though the worry never left his eyes. “Think I should propose soon, before we outstay our welcome.”

*

“WHY ARE YOU SKULKING?”

Imogene jumped and whirled around without thought, despite recognizing the voice. “Oh, Emily, you gave me such a start.” She laughed weakly, holding a hand to the top of her bodice. “Did I really give the appearance of skulking?”

They were standing at the bottom of one of the twin circular staircase towers that curved past the main floors. Emily must have come around behind Imogene, though the carpeted stone had offered up no betraying sound.

“Looking into the hallway before stepping across the threshold is certainly … odd.” Emily’s laugh was strong and genuine, and she hooked her arm through Imogene’s. About to stride forward, she hesitated and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. “Where are we going?”

“The stables,” Imogene whispered back, grinning, glad to have company.

“An unusual destination being that you are not dressed for riding and we will be called to ready for dinner soon.”

“Perhaps a trifle unusual. However, asking your coachman to come into the manor would be odder.”

“There is that.” She pulled Imogene forward, adopting an easy gait. “Still, that begs the question, why do you need to speak to our coachman? Should we go through the conservatory? It’s faster.”

“Excellent idea.” Imogene nodded. “Father is quite put out about the burr. I heard his indignant comments to Mother and Mr. Tabard. They all seem to be in agreement.”