Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels #1)(31)

“Good God,” West muttered, “my brother was right. You do have the temperament of a baited badger.”

They exchanged glances of mutual loathing and walked away from each other.

Fortunately the girls kept the conversation cheerful at dinner. Only Helen seemed to notice the bitter tension between Kathleen and West, sending Kathleen discreet glances of concern. With each course, West asked for new wine, obliging the underbutler to fetch bottle after bottle from the cellar. Fuming at his wastefulness, Kathleen bit her tongue to keep from commenting as he became increasingly soused. At the conclusion of the meal, Kathleen ushered the girls upstairs, leaving West alone at the table with a bottle of port.

In the morning Kathleen rose early, dressed in her riding habit, and went out to the stable as usual. With the assistance of Mr. Bloom, the stable master, she was training Asad to resist shying at objects that frightened him. Bloom accompanied her out to the paddock as she led Asad with a special training halter.

Kathleen had quickly come to value Bloom’s advice. He did not believe that physically restraining a horse, especially an Arabian, was the right way to help him overcome his fear. “Tha would only break his spirit, binding him up like a fly in a spider’s web. ’Appen he’ll take his reassurance from thee, milady. He’ll trust tha to keep him safe and know what’s best for him.”

At Bloom’s direction, Kathleen grasped the lead rope under Asad’s chin and guided him to take a step forward and then a step back.

“Again,” Bloom said approvingly. “Back’ard and for’ard, and again.”

Asad was perplexed but willing, moving back and forth easily, almost as if he were learning to dance.

“Well done, lass,” Bloom praised, so involved in the training that he forgot to address Kathleen by her title. “Now tha’s taking up all his thoughts and leaving no room for fear.” He placed a crop in Kathleen’s left hand. “This is for tha to tap his side if need be.” Standing by Asad’s side, he began to unfold a black umbrella. The horse started and nickered, instinctively cringing away from the unfamiliar object. “This umbrolly scares tha a bit, lad, doesn’t it?” He closed and opened the umbrella repeatedly, while telling Kathleen, “Make the task tha’s given him more important than the thing that scares him.”

Kathleen continued to move Asad in the back-and-forth step, distracting him from the threatening movement of the billowing black object. When he tried to swing his hindquarters away, she tapped him back into place with a touch of the crop, not allowing him to put distance between himself and the umbrella. Although Asad was clearly uneasy, his ears swiveling in every direction, he did exactly as she commanded. His hide twitched nervously at the umbrella’s proximity… but he didn’t shy away.

When Bloom finally closed the umbrella, Kathleen grinned and patted Asad’s neck with affectionate pride. “Good boy,” she exclaimed. “You’re a fast learner, aren’t you?” She took a carrot stub from the pocket of her skirt and gave it to him. Asad accepted the treat, crunching noisily.

“Next we’ll try it as tha rides him —” Bloom began.

He was interrupted by a stable boy, Freddie, who hadn’t yet reached his teenage years. “Mr. Bloom,” the boy said breathlessly, hurrying up to the paddock railing, “The head groom bade me tell you that Mr. Ravenel has come to the stables for his mount.”

“Aye, I told the lads to saddle Royal.”

Freddie’s small face was pinched with anxiety. “There’s a problem, sir. Mr. Ravenel is the worse for drink and isn’t fit to ride, but he ordered them to bring the horse to him. The head groom tried to refuse, but the land agent, Mr. Carlow, is there as well, and he said to give Royal to Mr. Ravenel because they’re supposed to ride out to a tenant farm.”

Once again, Kathleen thought in panicked fury, a drunken Ravenel was going to try to ride a horse from the stables.

Wordlessly she climbed through the paddock rails, in too much of a hurry to bother with the gate. She grabbed handfuls of her riding skirt and ran to the stables, ignoring the sound of Bloom calling after her.

As soon as she entered the building, she saw West gesturing angrily at the head groom, John, whose face was averted. The land agent, Carlow, stood by looking impatient and embarrassed. Carlow, a portly middle-aged man who resided in town, had been employed by Theo’s family for more than a decade. It would be his job to escort West to the tenant farms.

One glance was all Kathleen needed to take stock of the situation. West was red-faced and sweating, his eyes bloodshot, and he was swaying on his feet.

“I’m the one to judge my capabilities,” West was saying belligerently. “I’ve ridden in far worse condition than this – and I’ll be damned if —”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Kathleen interrupted, her heart hammering. Without warning, the image of Theo’s stricken face appeared in her mind… the way he had looked at her, his eyes like cooling embers as the last seconds of his life had ticked away. She blinked hard, the memory vanishing. The reek of alcohol drifted to her nostrils, provoking a touch of nausea.

“Lady Trenear,” the land agent exclaimed with relief. “Perhaps you would be able to talk sense into this half-wit.”

“Indeed.” Without expression, she took hold of West’s arm, digging her fingers in as she felt him resist. “Come outside with me, Mr. Ravenel.”