Page 5 of Riding High

‘You’ve always hated him.’

He didn’t hate the Baby Duke because he was Lysander’s son and heir, when he, the Duke’s oldest son by a few months, wasn’t.No, he hated Junior because he was acknowledged and accepted.His birth had been celebrated, not reviled.From the moment he arrived in the world, Henry had been encouraged to stand in the sunlight of his heritage, while Jed had been relegated to the darkest corner of the dungeon.

Interestingly and, frankly, conveniently, Henry hated him too.He didn’t know if Henry knew he was his half-brother– he doubted it– or if they had a personality clash, but his animosity ran as deep as Jed’s.

After a run-in as kids, one that involved knuckles and blood, they’d ended up at the same boys’ boarding school, in the same form.Henry’d been loud-mouthed and obnoxious, and Jed, born with no fucks to give, routinely called him on his BS.They both joined the school’s boxing team– a mutual excuse to beat the shit out of each other.After a particularly nasty bout– an off-the-books, no rules, mock cage fight– he broke Junior’s nose and bruised his ribs.Henry’s right hook to Jed’s temple gave him a minor concussion.

They’d both been immediately expelled–we don’t condone violence, no matter the circumstances!–but then the Duke and Troyden had hauled out their chequebooks, made massive donations to the school, and they were both reinstated.

Thankfully their paths hadn’t crossed much since they’d left school, with Henry going to uni and Jed straight into professional polo.

‘I believe life shouldn’t reward wankers.’

Troyden simply smiled and changed the subject.‘I saw the table Sally posted to your website last night,’ he said, pride in his eyes.‘Damn good job, son.’

Jed shrugged.The table, made from a piece of driftwood he’d found on an extremely southern New Zealand beach and had shipped home, was one of his favourite pieces.The price tag Sally decided on made his eyes water.But, as she told him, it was a J.Barkly piece– Barkly was a name he sucked from the air– and collectors were prepared to pay huge money for his furniture.They were, he’d been informed, works of art.He didn’t see it and it didn’t make any sense to him; he just found a piece of wood, saw a shape within it, and got to work with his power tools in the silence of his workshop.

‘Are you ever going to stop imitating Banksy and reveal to the world you are J.Barkly?’Troyden demanded.Troyden thought he should take the praise and the credit, but Jed didn’t give a shit about what other people thought.He was just a guy who loved horses, played excellent polo and made furniture.

All he wanted to do was look after his family.Keep pushing back that expiry date.

The Duke’s death wouldn’t change a damn thing.

He’d make sure of it.