Page 16 of Miss Devon’s Choice

“Good morning,” the man said, pulling up his horse several paces away. “Pardon me, but are you a guest of the earl’s?”

“I am, sir.” Christian half-bowed. “Lord Easton. To whom do I have the honor of speaking?” He still took pride, even after all these years, of talking without much, if any, hint of his Italian ancestry in his words.

The man dismounted. He was shorter than Christian by nearly a full head, but he carried himself as one used to sporting would. They were likely near in age, as well.

“Thomas Gilbert,” the man said, offering his own abbreviated bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Lord Easton. The family has been speaking of little else. My wife will be put out that I met you before she did.” He grinned and took off his right glove, offering his hand. “I’m to be your brother-in-law. I married the middle Devon sister.”

Hesitating only briefly, Christian stripped off his own glove and shook the man’s hand. “Then you are the one who raises horses.”

“Indeed. A dream of mine for many years, and finally starting to show fruits for my efforts.” He reached up and gave his horse a pat. Christian glanced at the animal politely, then paused and took in the lines of the beast more carefully. “This is Farfalla. She’s one of my favorites and between foals.”

“Italian stock, if I’m not mistaken,” Christian said, stepping closer to lay his hand against the mare’s neck. “Beautiful.”

“You have a good eye.” Gilbert grinned and pulled his glove back on. “Would you come riding with us this morning?”

“Us?” Christian raised his eyebrows. “I admit my surprise to finding one gentleman up as early as I am, but you imply there are more.”

“We don’t keep London hours here.” Gilbert chuckled and took the reins of the horse. “I ride with the earl twice a week. I was on my way to meet Lucas when I saw you and thought to introduce myself. Since you are to be family, the invitation is especially sincere.”

The man spoke plainly, which Christian found refreshing. He considered the offer. While knowing Thomas Gilbert likely would do little for him socially or politically, getting to know connections to the Devon family and earl was likely wise. “If it would not be an intrusion, I could use the exercise.”

“Excellent.” Gilbert started walking uphill with Christian. The conversation went to horses and riding, which Christian didn’t mind. It wasn’t personal, after all, and a subject in which he felt competent. Rowing and swimming were his preferred sports, but he’d grown up with horses. By the time they reached the house, Christian anticipated the ride almost cheerfully.

“Ajax, sieda,” he commanded, without thought, intending for the dog to wait at the door while he changed into riding clothes.

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. “Sieda?Parli Italiano?” The Englishman’s accent wasn’t perfect, but Christian’s heart rose to hear even that much of his beloved language.

“Sì. Of course. You didn’t know? I thought the family was speaking of nothing but me.” He forced a smile.

“If they said anything about you knowing Italian, I never heard. It’s mostly been my wife and she’s not— But never mind that. I lived in Italy for two years. How do you come by the language?” He crossed his arms, his eyebrows raised with his question.

“My mother was Italian. I lived there for a decade, before all the wars.” Christian lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“I would never have known. You have no discernible accent. I couldn’t say the same about myself. The families I stayed with in Italy, they were constantly laughing at my British inflections.” Gilbert sighed, shaking his head mournfully.

“I came back to England when I was fifteen. It didn’t take long for me to realize the accent was detrimental to my scholarship in English schools.” Christian realized he had said more than he meant to and stepped closer to the door. “I will meet you at the stables, Mr. Gilbert.” The other man only tipped his hat in reply and Christian went inside.

How was it a few words spoken in his mother’s tongue had loosened his own to such an extent? He had no wish to lay his past out before strangers. He was more addled than he’d thought by his situation. More care must be exercised in the future. Sharing any amount of his personal affairs weakened his defenses, making him vulnerable to more targeted attacks. Yet another lesson learned at Eton.

Yet somehow, he couldn’t picture the amiable Mr. Gilbert as someone to guard against.

Dowding was still attempting to put Christian’s wardrobe in order, the trunks having come too late in the evening for them to be dealt with the night before. The valet didn’t bother to hide his surprise at Christian’s return.

“My lord?”

“My riding things, Dowding.” While his valet could not be counted upon to be a stalwart man in the face of adversity, his efficiency at seeing to Christian’s clothing and grooming needs would be difficult to match. In hardly any time, Christian was back out the door.

The earl and Mr. Gilbert were waiting for him at the front door, already upon their mounts, while a groom held a tall, golden stallion at the ready for Christian. The animal had good lines and would make nearly as fine a racer as a hunter.

“Ah, Easton. Glad to hear you’re joining us this morning.” Annesbury’s words were welcoming, but his expression remained fairly neutral.

“I appreciate time spent outdoors, so the invitation was most welcome.” Christian approached the horse and examined the saddle carefully. “Someone has a good eye,” he said, nodding to the stirrups’ length.

“It should be close,” the earl said with a shrug. “It’s one of my saddles, and we’re nearly the same height.”

“Easton’s taller,” Gilbert said cheerily.

The earl shot the other man a look, raising an eyebrow imperiously. “We’re both taller than you are, Thomas.”