“Very well. Diamond is proving difficult to manage. There have been several incidents in the yard. Staff injuries have been narrowly avoided, and there are concerns from the trainers that he cannot be prepared for racing under current conditions.”
“I purchased him because I was told he was exceptional,” he said. “I was told he was seen as much.”
“He was.” Harrington nodded. “But that is only in speed, apparently, and not so much in temperament.”
“Then we will fix it. It is an animal, Harrington.”
“This one is not responding to standard methods.”
Dorian walked past him without speaking, out of the study and down the corridor that led toward the stable wing. Harrington followed after a moment of hesitation.
The noise reached them before the stables did. Voices carried in sharper tones than usual, interrupted by the occasional snap of reins or the sudden shift of hooves against wood. By the time they reached the yard, Dorian could already see the disturbance before it was explained.
Diamond stood apart from the others, as seemed to be usual for him, held by two trainers who looked increasingly uncertain of their footing. He pulled against the reins again, violently enough that one of the men nearly lost his grip.
“Hold him steady,” a trainer shouted. “Don’t let him break the line.”
“He’s not listening,” the other answered. “He’s not listening to anyone.”
Dorian stopped at the edge of the yard, his eyes fixed on the animal. The horse struck the ground sharply, his head tossing and his breath harsh and uneven, refusing every attempt to settle him.
“It was fine when it first arrived.” A groom grimaced. “That has certainly changed.”
Dorian did not look away from the horse. “What changed?”
No one answered immediately.
“We do not know, Your Grace.”
Diamond pulled again, harder this time, and the reins snapped taut between the trainers’ hands.
Dorian’s expression did not change, but his focus sharpened.
“Fix it,” he ordered.
The trainers exchanged a look.
“We are trying.”
Dorian’s gaze did not move from the horse. “Then try harder.”
The yard fell into motion again, but they were still struggling. He knew they were trying. Of course, he did. But it was not enough, and he needed them to do something that was enough.
But he was not heartless.
As he looked into the horse’s eyes, he saw it. Fear. Regardless of his behavior, this animal did not belong in the condition it was in.
Despite what the trainers thought, Dorian was quite convinced that there was someone who could be of assistance.
He did not tell anyone where he was going.
The ride to Rosemere House cut through open countryside, the wind sharp against his face, the horse beneath him steady in a way he only wished that Diamond would be. By the time the estate came into view, the choice had already settled into something irreversible.
He may have asked Lady Anne to repeat what she had whispered, but he had heard her.
Rosemere House was quieter than Ashford Hall, not smaller in value so much as different in character. He slowed only at the outer drive before dismounting, ignoring the hesitation of a footman who recognized him immediately.
“Your Grace—” the man began.
