The other bidders stopped. Wykeham bid higher. As did Michael. Wykeham stepped out of the crowd near the left gallery and raised his cane as he called out one more bid. Michael increased both the volume of his voice and the bid.
Wykeham scowled and lifted the cane, just as a young boy dashed the length of the gallery, plowing into Wykeham. The duke sprawled on the ground, vulgarities lacing the air as the boy scrambled away, disappearing into the crush of men around them.
“Sold! Kennet!”
Feeling a rush of elation, Michael collected the slip from the auctioneer and looked around, searching the crowd. He found his father near the end of the right gallery and grinned as Philip nodded once and touched the brim of his top hat.
Embleton stepped up beside him. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Although that escapade will not work a second time.”
Michael stared at him.
Embleton’s smile was sly. “Do not worry. My grooms have the boy safely tucked away. Wykeham will not see him again unless he visits me at home. Which I doubt he will do.”
Michael found his voice. “That was quite a risk.”
Embleton kept his gaze on the cluster of men currently helping Wykeham off the ground. “Not entirely. Wykeham has a tendency to use that cane for emphasis, even though he needs it for balance. He is especially prone to do so in Parliament, but there are desks to hold on to. I knew if you made him angry enough, he would start waving it about.”
“Balance.”
Embleton straightened. “Broke his pelvis several years ago. No one is quite sure how. Healed well, but he is slightly off center. Not noticeable unless he stumbles.”
“Or someone bumps into him.”
“The cane helps him recover.”
“Unless it’s up in the air.”
“There are two horses before the bay gelding. The stallion will be right behind. You should prepare.” Embleton paused. “Do you still plan to—”
“Yes. This is a long game.”
Embleton nodded. “Still a risk with a fine animal.”
“But a calculated one.”
“So your stable manager is still assured—”
“No qualms. He knows his horses.”
Embleton looked Michael up and down. “As, it has become clear, do you.”
“I am flattered.”
Embleton grinned. “Not flattery if this works.”
“It will.”
The grin widened, then Embleton touched the brim of his top hat and sauntered off, calling a greeting to a group of nobles, one of whom held as much sway as Philip Ashton in Parliament.
Ally, indeed.
Michael watched a moment, then felt a large presence move in behind him.
“That was somewhat unexpected,” Philip said.
