Dorian held out the last morsel of carrot to him, knowing that when he’d been his age, the only thing he’d longed to do (besides skip Latin lessons) was ride his horse. “Come on. There’s one more for you.” Quickly, Archie shook his head and retreated a step. “What is the matter?” Dorian tried to coax the boy nearer with a wiggle of his fingers, but it only sent him back further.
The perceptive older boy from earlier chimed in, saying, “That willna do any good. He’s afraid of horses.”
He knew, with sudden, terrible clarity, just as to why that was.
The boy’s father had been killed in a terrible riding accident.
Archie’s cheeks flushed bright pink; he spun on his heel and bolted. Dorian uttered a curse and hailed a groom from across the courtyard to take Maximus’s reins so he could follow Archie.
Terrifying and mortifying the boy was not a way to win his favor; not to mention, Dorian felt like an ass. How could he have forgotten such a thing? The London tabloids had recounted the tragic news that Amelia’s husband, Archie’s father, had broken his neck after his horse had spooked on a hunt. Of course, the lad would be wary of horses after such a loss.
Dorian hurried along through the kitchen entrance, startling the cook and some poor maids as he followed the small figure up the servants’ stairs. The boy didn’t turn when Dorian called his name, so he increased his pace. Archie might have had a head start and better knowledge of the castle, but Dorian had speed and length of stride on his side. He caught Archie just as he ducked through a doorway on the third floor. The boy wriggled and protested, but Dorian held fast to his collar.
“Let me go, ya cur!” Archie tried to use his best, most commanding laird voice, his burr thickening remarkably, but Dorian was undeterred.
“I wish to speak with you,” he said calmly. When he crouched down and met the child’s angry glare, he was surprised to find that tears glistened in the boy’s bright green eyes. Dorian slowly released Archie’s collar once he stopped thrashing, and he half expected him to bolt, but he did not. “I am truly sorry about what happened. It wasn’t my intention to embarrass you in front of your playmates—”
“You didna’—did not—embarrass me,” the boy grumbled, swiping at his nose.
“—or to inadvertently force you to recall…unpleasant memories.” He gave the boy a pointed look until he turned his head. “I was simply trying to be your friend.”
“Why would you do that?” Archie snapped.
“Because…” Dorian paused, not anticipating having to explain himself, “because your mother and I were once very good friends. Then, we had a falling-out of sorts, and we did not speak for a very long time. I am here trying to…make right a wrong that happened even before you were born.”
The boy finally met his eyes. “What happened?”
“That is rather complicated and unimportant at this time.”
“So, what does being my friend have to do with anything?”
“Because your mother loves you dearly, and I would like to be kind to everyone she loves. It is a lot easier to do with a friend. So,” Dorian held out his hand to the boy, “will you be my friend, then? You would be doing me a great favor.”Especially if you no longer see me as a threat, he added silently. As the boy gripped his hand, however, Dorian experienced a jolt of guilt for intending to use a child’s goodwill with untoward intentions.
He also felt unsure about which wrong he was now trying to right.
Was he still exacting his revenge and attempting to excise Amelia from his life, or was he trying to reclaim what he’d once lost to foolishness?
The boy ran off down the hall, and Dorian stood, watching his small frame retreat. He didn’t know if the interaction could be qualified as a success or a disaster.
Amelia stepped outof her hiding place to face a disheveled looking Dorian. She might have believed his conversation with Archie to be contrived for her hearing had he not looked so surprised and abashed by her appearance.
“How long have you been there?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Long enough.” She had to clear her throat before speaking again, more moved by the candid scene than she’d realized. She approached Dorian and straightened his windblown lapel. “Went for a ride, did you?” she asked gently, looking up into his handsome face.
“Yes. And I made the mistake of trying to convince Archie to go near Maximus.”
Amelia sighed sadly, and he caught her hands in his. He waited silently for her to continue. “He’d just begun his riding lessons when his father had his accident. He’d been so excited until then. Now, I cannot convince him to go near the stables. Not even his docile little pony can entice him. I don’t know what to do.” Dorian pressed her knuckles to his lips. “He’s a brave, intelligent boy in so many ways, but he was so traumatized by the loss that I don’t know how he’ll ever recover.”
“Let me try,” Dorian volunteered, much to Amelia’s surprise.
Before she could respond, however, Faye shoved her way between them with a determined grunt. Amelia giggled and scratched her head; Kempton cocked a brow and narrowed his eyes at the dog.
“She really does not care for me.”
“She’s just protective.”
“Well, I take it personally, especially when she gets to share your bed and I do not.”
