The Belle of Belgrave Square (Belles of London #2)(94)

“Disappointing the children. Disappointing you.”

He uttered a husky laugh. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

She gave him a speaking glance. “I know that isn’t true. If it was, you wouldn’t leave our bed with such haste every morning.”

His gaze shot to hers.

What the devil?

Did she truly believe he was leaving her at break of dawn every day because he was disappointed in her in some way? The idea was so ludicrous—so ridiculously far from the truth—he’d have laughed if he wasn’t so stunned.

They were but a few yards from the outbuilding, still unable to see it clearly from around the corner of the house. Only a few seconds of privacy remained.

“Julia,” he began. “I—”

The shrill whinny of a horse cut through his words.

Julia eyes brightened with recognition. She released his arm. “It’s Cossack!” she cried. Hoisting her voluminous skirts in her hands, she took off at a sprint.



* * *





?Julia cradled Cossack’s large head in her hands, pressing kisses to his velvety nose. He appeared in good health, none the worse for wear after his long journey from London. He whickered softly to her, nostrils quivering, as she murmured to him about how much she’d missed him.

The groom who had delivered the horses stood outside the outbuilding that was serving as their temporary stables. He was a genial fellow approaching middle age, with sandy hair and a broad, muscular frame. “He were a good traveler, ma’am,” he said. “Never put up a fuss, not at any of the coaching inns we stopped at along the way.”

“He’s always been very good.” Julia hugged Cossack’s neck, vaguely conscious that, in doing so, she was soiling the bodice of her gown. “Ever since he was young.”

“Not like that one.” The groom cast a pointed look at Quintus. Jasper’s enormous black stallion had already been set loose in a paddock nearby and was rolling in the grass, rubbing his neck and head as if to scratch an itch he couldn’t quite reach. “That one were a handful.”

“He has a delicate temperament,” Jasper said. “Like all oversized brutes.”

Julia smiled at her husband. “He’s glad to be home.”

“Undoubtedly. Except for the occasional ride into Hardholme, he’s left to do as he pleases here.” Jasper set his hand on Julia’s back as he addressed the groom. “You’ll be wanting to get back there before sunset, once your team’s rested.”

The groom had driven to the Hall in a four-wheeled open carriage pulled by a pair of chestnuts. They were nothing very fancy, but they were solid horses, obviously chosen with care.

“As to that, sir, Lord Ridgeway said as how I was to give you this.” The groom retrieved a rumpled letter from the inside of his brown cloth coat. He gave it to Jasper.

Frowning, Jasper broke open the wax seal and began to read. As he did so, Charlie, Alfred, and Daisy trotted down to join them.

“Famous!” Alfred exclaimed on seeing Cossack. “He’s nearly as big as Quintus!”

“May I pet him?” Daisy asked.

“You may,” Julia said. “Charlie? Would you take charge of him for me? I’m sure he’d like to graze while you all get to know him.”

Charlie stood a little straighter. Taking the lead rope from Julia’s hand, he walked Cossack further out on the grass. Alfred and Daisy went with him, Alfred chattering all the while.

Julia turned her attention back to Jasper. The expression on his face sparked a flicker of apprehension in her veins. “What is it?”

He passed her the letter. “It seems Ridgeway has made us a wedding present.”

Julia quickly read the brief note for herself.

    Blunt,

I’ve entrusted your horses to Plimstock for the journey. He’s a decent fellow and a competent groom, though not suited for London at present. His wages have been paid for the year. Please accept him, along with the carriage and matched pair, as a wedding gift.

Yours, etc.

Ridgeway



Julia looked to the groom—Plimstock, apparently—and the two chestnuts who were grazing in a paddock next door to the one where Quintus was cavorting.

“Is there a particular reason you wish to remove from London?” Jasper asked the man.

“Aye, sir,” Plimstock said. “I’m Yorkshire born. My young lady resides in Malton. She’s in service to the squire there. We plan to marry as soon as we can settle our living arrangements. Lord Ridgeway said as how you might be in the way of giving us a cottage.”

Jasper’s frown deepened. “Did he, indeed.”

Julia waited until they were alone again to ask, “Are you displeased with Lord Ridgeway?”

Jasper walked alongside her up the drive to the house. The sun gleamed in the thick raven-black threads of his hair. He wasn’t wearing a hat, nor even a coat. Clad in black trousers and a plain black waistcoat, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal the sinewy muscles of his bronzed forearms, his appearance suggested he’d come straight from his work in the tower.

Whatever work that might be.

“No more than usual,” he said. “He’s been exceptionally generous. And I can’t claim we wouldn’t benefit from an extra pair of hands about the place—and an extra pair of horses.”